“The journey of a perfect daughter is not perfect. It is to find the courage to be imperfect, to be human.” ~Robert Ackerman, the perfect daughter
Growing up in a shadowy home due to addiction is like living in a home without a foundation. The ground below you is unstable, the walls are prone to breaking, and the roof can collapse at any time. For me, this was my reality. My first memories of my mother’s alcoholism are linked to confusion and worry. This is a child’s attempt to understand an adult world filled with unpredictability and silence.
Her mood was unstable, swaying from one extreme to another, I recall. I remember one night. She came to my room and woke me up and told me not to worry, but she was back to work. The way she spoke, her whole existence was off. It wasn’t her usual self. I didn’t understand that she was drunk. I just felt pure and childlike concerns.
This confusion was just the beginning. As I got older, the challenges increased. The embarrassment of comparing my family life with my friends, the isolation of my family who never talked about the elephants in the room, and the lack of safety in my own home made me feel completely alone.
I wasn’t comfortable reaching out to any adult. My dad was not friendly and my mother was emotionally unavailable. I felt like I had to solve everything myself.
The role we play
In addiction confusion, children often assume roles to survive. For me, these roles became my identity. I became a Peacemaker and brokered between my mother and my sister. I became my second mother and led my sister in ways my mother couldn’t. And I believed that if I became a “good daughter” and loved her enough, I could save her.
I thought I could make her feel better by loving her more, investing my attention in her needs and avoiding conflict. But that was an impossible burden.
My relationship with my father was also suffering. I accused him of allowing my mother to continue her actions and doing nothing for us. He became an enemy and I drove him out of my life.
Long shadows of childhood trauma
The effects of my mother’s alcoholism didn’t end as a child. As an adult, I have found myself repeating patterns of friendship and romantic relationships. I have struggled with issues of codependency, boundaries and trust. I have a manipulative partner and I found myself attracted to selfish and narcissistic people.
But my journey to healing began when I hit the bottom of a rock. I was drinking too much, showing up to work after a long night and driving drunk. I dated my partner who was emotionally abusive and almost physically violent, but my parents didn’t know.
A pivotal moment came during a surprise party my sister organized before I went to study abroad. I arrived with a hangover, exhausted, and there was an uneasy attack when everyone cried out “Surprise!” How many emotions I have buried, including the number of emotions I have buried, is a deep, overwhelming sadness that I have never felt myself.
The path to healing
The healing didn’t happen overnight. It started with treatment – my first experience was far from ideal. The therapist is deeply narcissistic, reflecting the type of people I’ve been attracted to forever. But I didn’t give up. I found another therapist and she was my stable guide for 7 years.
Through our work, I have learned that I can reach out to help, not alone. I also learned to recognize how trust feels, to separate from the extremes, to distinguish love from codependent relationships, to take on my role in my experiences. At the age of 27, I was finally ready to stop criticizing others and take accountability. I began to reconstruct my past not through the lens of the victim, but from the adult perspective of the self-awareness I become.
One of the deepest breakthroughs came when I decided I was ready to stand up to my mother. Preparation for that moment changed everything. It marked the beginning of regaining my voice and stepping into my own strength.
Support groups like Al-Anon also played an important role. When I arrived at Al Anon, I began to cry within minutes. For the first time I’ve heard people frequently openly say that they have alcoholics and loved ones. I have never experienced such openness in such a “normal” environment.
Hearing the speakers shared their stories, I realized I wasn’t alone. We all had the same sadness, frustration, helplessness. In that room I felt like I had seen it. I felt like I belonged to.
Through treatment, meditation, exercise, and books, I began to reconstruct my senses. I have learned to be with myself in a peaceful and calm way. I stopped making my mother look strange and lost, and started seeing her as a sick person. I took off the impossible burden of having to save her.
Suspension to hope
One of the deepest lessons I learned was the power of surrender. For me, surrender meant I admitted I needed help. My own resources were not enough to deal with the situation I was facing at home. That meant I was humble enough to admit that this was bigger than me.
In my daily life, surrender meant moving away from the discussion. I let go of my exhausted mission to make her happy, especially when my mother was drinking, and accepted that her happiness was not something I could guarantee.
Al-Anon has the phrase “I didn’t cause it. I can’t control it.” I surrendered my expectations of who my mother wanted to be and allowed me to grieve my mother, which I had no. That surrender saved my life.
My journey is a testament to the resilience of the human mind. If you choose to surrender, everything starts to feel better. It is a leap of faith, trust me, you are not alone.
Today I’m still on a healing journey, but I’m no longer defined in my past. I’m learning to trust myself, set boundaries, and embrace my values. My story reminds me that even in the darkest moments there is hope.
About Teresa Lopez
Tele is a journalist and advocate for mental health. Through her personal journey of healing from childhood trauma, she found comfort in treatment, meditation and support groups. She hopes her story will encourage others to seek help and embrace their own path to peace. Connect with her on Instagram @terelandia.
