My dad was an alcoholic.
I can't imagine how difficult it would have been if my mother were one too.
I am the oldest of 3.

I knew things weren't right in our home. I had voices that talked to me in my head... they were voices that I now know were the result of my stress as the oldest child protecting her younger sister and brother...

My mom took us away from our dad when I was 10.... 500 miles away. Nothing was explained to us - we just went on a "holiday" ... which lasted the rest of our lives...

we were then children of divorce in a small town in the 60's...

I was always that little girl who hoped to cure her alcoholic daddy. I never did succeed.

I grew up and married (for all the wrong reasons).. my dad gave me away at my wedding... he was drunk.

He phoned a lot... he was always drunk.... I hated it...

I lived far away... and couldn't escape... and I would lie when he asked for my brother or sisters phone number... so that he wouldn't hurt them, too...

One day... he died.. of his alcoholism...
and the squalor and hell hole that we found when he died is like a nightmare.... my sister and I took photos .... our brother ridiculed us... but we knew... maybe... just maybe someday... we could come out of this strong ... and those pictures may help someone else...

they are still hidden

I can't write anymore.. I am not sad... I am just tired.....

And I simply write to share with you all that in spite of it all... we share and grow...

bless you all

((hugs))