I am sure everyone has something better to do than read a 15 year old girl's blog, yet I am not typing for anyone to see it (they can if they want to, I don’t mind), but it is more for myself; To type out what is bothering me and perhaps there is someone out there who will listen (well really read).
Well to start off, I guess you should know a little bit about myself. I am 15 and am going to be a sophomore in High school. I live in California with my parents, two dogs, and a ferret. My brother who is about to get marries in November has long since moved away. I was adopted when I was two and had ever since been a part of the family. I am not the best at writing; I am dyslexic; so there will be spelling and grammar errors in this, so if you are a perfectionist, you may hate me. My main thing i am going to talk about is my life with my family. Maybe as a parent you will see things from my point of view and perhaps understand things about your child that you have never understood before, or maybe you are a teenager and can relate. I personally do not know of any other teenager goes through the things that i have gone through and perhaps that is why I am making this blog; to see if I am not alone.
My family has been effected my alcohol. On my mom's side, my grandpa drinks and is an alcoholic. On my dad's side my great grandfather was also an alcoholic and my uncle was a big time drug abuser. He died in about 2001, but my parents did not want me to see him when he was still alive. So both sides have been affected by it. No one realizes that family's that have been affected, weather they drink or not they can and probably have the alcoholic disease.
There are two types of it that I have seen. One type, the person can manipulate other's words and twist them around, they like to put the blame and spotlight on others, but themselves. They also like to be very well in control and have everything be about them unless they do something wrong and will make it all about the other person. The second type is the non-dominant one. They tend to loose themselves, everything becomes all about the other person. "Oh, I hope I can make this person happy so that way I can be happy".
This is what my grandma tells me (the one with the alcoholic husband). She has been going to Alanon for help in dealing with it. She tells me these things. My dad does act like the first one, while my mom the second. I wonder if this isn't about the alcohol and drugs in my family or if every family is like this.
I got this from a website- http://allpsych.com/journal/alcoholism.html
"Parental alcoholism also has severe effects on normal children of alcoholics. Many of these children have common symptoms such as low self-esteem, loneliness, guilt, feelings of helplessness, fears of abandonment, and chronic depression (Berger, 1993). Children of alcoholics (COAs) may feel responsible for the problems of the alcoholic and may think they created the problem. COAs often experience high levels of tension and stress. Young children of alcoholics may have frequent nightmares, bed wetting, and crying. They also may not have friends and may be afraid to go to school. Older children of alcoholics may show such depressive symptoms as obsessive perfectionism, hoarding, staying by themselves, or being excessively self-conscious. Studies have shown that because children of alcoholics feel that they are different from other people, they develop a poor self-image, in which they closely resemble their alcoholic parents (Silverstein, 1990, p.75). Also, teenage children of alcoholics may develop phobias."
And I have highlighted what I have felt in my childhood. Perhaps that what my grandma says is true. I do sometimes forget to think about myself and people have told me that I need to stop worrying about other people and start to stand up for myself. Yet I am not allowed to stand up for myself at home, why should school be any different? For this is what I do not understand. I used to feel alone and helpless, yes I have my grandma to talk to, but she couldn’t do much. She couldn’t say anything to my parents otherwise they could take me away from them. Also for his job he is a cop, who has to be assertive and in control and also the dominate one. Yet it is hard to separate being a dad and being that way for work.
My dad would yell at me about two times a week. Yet, I tried to be the best daughter I could be. I never tried to do anything wrong, it just seemed that I could never do anything right, and could never please and have my father think of me as at least descent. My mom was too afraid to stand up for me and when she did, I could hear them fight from their bedroom while I was in mine. I felt terrible and guilty for the fact that I did not involve her, yet she was getting yelled at by dad because she was standing up for me. Once I tried to tell her about dad and she said "I do not want to hear it. I am done with the two of you fighting and I will not be in the middle of it". I felt guilty that I made her feel like that, so I bottled it up. I didn't tell her what it was doing to me. His yelling at me made me feel terrible about myself because I never could please him, no matter how hard I tried. I ended up staying in my room, cutting myself and listening to music.
One night my mom got so furious at me because I refused to tell her why I was so depressed. She started yelling at me to tell her. I still didn't. Dad ended up getting in the middle of it when she yelled at me "you’re acting like a bitch". I was upset and I yelled "sometimes I don’t want to live here anymore". That got my dad mad at me because he thought that I did not appreciate everything that I have. He opened the door and said “then pack your suitcase and get out of my house”. I was so upset I ran upstairs to call my grandma. I could tell then, that it was getting really ugly and I needed to tell her because i was so scared. I had no intent of running away, I just needed to call her and ask her what to do. My dad came up stairs and saw that I had the phone in my hand that was still ringing. He took away my phone and said "and you’re not running away to grandma's either" He then repeatedly asked me "why do you not want to live here anymore". I started to hypervenalate, so I couldn't talk. He repeated the question, yelling at my face. As you know that did not help my breathing and so therefore I was not able to answer. He then put both hands on the sides of my head so I had to look at him and he asked again, when I did not answer, he took my and threw me on my bed and was two inches from my face. By then my mom had come upstairs and had saw this. She yelled at him "*his name* stop!" (I'm sorry; I will not give out names). He stared at me for a few seconds and then left, but not without kicking and breaking my wicker trash basket. My mom grabbed me a small brown bag to get my breathing back to normal so that way I could talk. I told her everything from me cutting myself to the way I was treated. We then decided it was time for a family councilor.
We were in counseling for about a year. My dad did not come to many sessions and when he did, he would argue with the therapist. He was not willing to change, even if it was to help his daughter and wife. Yet, things were getting better. My dad did not yell at me as much. It started to slow to a once a month. Our communication was better; over all it was really good. I started to have trust in them again and trusted them with being able to not be defensive if I told them how I felt. Before if I did, I was told I was a drama queen and I would be interrupted because he wouldn't agree with it. I was not able to speak up. So since everything was going well, we stopped counseling
Last month my dad went on sick time for his job. His back and his knee were killing him (major injuries he has had and were getting the best of him). And in September he will be officially retired. We had three dogs, but the work dog is too young to retire, so we have to give him to the man who will take my dad's place in work. So he is at home a lot of the time...... See how this becomes an issue????
At the beginning of this month, I had a boyfriend who did pot. He had told me two months earlier to this that he was doing it at that time for two months i had been contemplating on whether I should say something. I ended up telling his parents and then I told my own (now I do realize that I should have told my parents first, but I did at the time I thought was right). It was a hard thing to do. I mean, he was the first person that I had ever had sex with. He surprisingly was not mad at me for telling. He knew I had done the right thing, so he wasn’t going to be mad at me for that. Yet, he did not trust me anymore about him and drugs. He promised not to do them again (not like he has a choice with his parents knowing now anyway). He said if it would mean losing me, he would not. He has kept that promise for awhile now, so yes we are back together, but if he does do it again, he knows for sure that I will leave. I warned him.
Also at the beginning of this month, my dad congratulated me on being more grown up and telling them about it. Yet after that, he started not to talk to me, only if i had done something wrong. Like if I forgot to rinse a dish. He would jump all over me for that, yet he wouldn’t talk to me; wouldn’t say good morning or anything. And what was strange is that right after he got mad at me he would acknowledge the dog and be all sweet and kind to her, yet not me. and stranger yet, after he would get mad, a little time would pass and he would ask as though he wasn’t mad at me at all. There was one incident where mom and dad took me to play volleyball, just to practice and my dad told me to bend my knees as I served. So I did, yet he told me (in a harsher tone) to bend my knees; so I was trying to explain to him that I was. Well in his mind apparently I was giving attitude, yet I wasn’t trying to at all. I was trying to show him that I was. But anyway he stormed off and watched mom help me practice while he walked around the park. As time grew by I realized that I did not make the volleyball team and this was still during the time that me and my boyfriend were not back together, so I had a lot of negative things going on, so I did not need dad to add on top of it. I decided to not get involved with him, only when he decided to play nice. Yet when he would get mad, I would not engage in that game and fight with him. He still would ignore me, unless I did something not perfect. So I decided not to talk to him still. This went on until yesterday.
I was in my room and he opened the door and started yelling at me, that I was treating him like crap and don't respect him. He also had the indecency of calling his daughter a bitch and an ass (sorry but that is what he said, I will only cuss if that is what was said). I started to get fed up with his negative behavior and I started yelling at him. He then leaves my room for awhile, and two minutes later yells at me to come down stairs (by the way, mom is upstairs in the office while he is in my room yelling and the rooms are right next to each other and is still up there during this). He still yells at me saying how since I started to talk back to him while he was trying to help me in volleyball, he has treated me the same way I have been treating him. We end up screaming at each other because I wanted myself to be heard and whenever I try either he’s happy or not, it doesn't matter. He doesn't want to listen to my feelings. And as I try to be heard, He screams at me to shut up. He then gets up from his chair and slaps me and then sits back down and yells at me his side. Enough to where in a matter of a few minutes and seconds, my lip starts to swell. I reached for my lip because it tasted like blood. Yes, it was bleeding. He yelled at me "damn right I slapped you". A few seconds of him yelling, my mom comes down stairs and says "stop yelling both of you!!! I have been walking on egg shells the past few weeks" and my dad yells back as they are face to face "I don’t care that you have been walking on egg shells". They started yelling and by then I felt that it was my entire fault that they were fighting. I started to cry and yell "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry'. My dad said not everything is about you.... I forget exactly what was said with this sentence, yet I do remember hearing "this little bitch" as he pointed at me. After mom got fed up with dad, she sat on the coach and watched me and dad fight. I tried to say my feelings and even when he finally gave me a chance to speak, he would interrupt and say, "Bullshit" and even say that I was being dramatic. But this was how I, me, myself felt. He didn't give a rip about my opinion and about what I had to say, even when he let me speak, he would interrupt and.... just it pisses me off. I finally got so pissed to the point where I said "I hate you. I’m done". He said "you better watch what you say. You be careful" and I said "oh I will". I went upstairs to my room and I heard him say, so she hates me well I can show her hell then. He got up stairs and said to vacuum the upstairs, then dust, then vacuum the downstairs, and lastly clean the bathroom. In-between each he would ask "do you hate me less, more, or the same". I knew he just wanted me give up, but I said the same. Each. And. Every. Time. After I was done and there was nothing more to do, he let me eat and then go find him. Mind you that he hit me at around 2:30pm and it was 4 or 4:30pm at around this time. I had something quick to eat and then went to find him. We had a good chat, with communication skills and everything. Yet he still said that I treated him like shit and that he wasn't going to treat me like a little princess. That is not the way life works. He said that he was mad that I spend so much time in my room (well I’d be glad to come down, yet every time i do I get told that I'm doing something wrong). He said that I was not a contributing member of the family. After that chat he said that I was free to go to my room.
later that night, I asked my mom if I should put ice on my lip (by then the swelling had gone down a lot, but the colors of red and blackish purple are still there, but on the inside). She asked me what I meant, I told her that dad slapped me; I was surprised she didn't know, but at least she knows now. She apologized and said that I did not deserve that, and that things got out of hand. I told her not to apologize and that it wasn’t her actions that did that to me, I also apologized saying that she should not have had to witness that.
Well to start off, I guess you should know a little bit about myself. I am 15 and am going to be a sophomore in High school. I live in California with my parents, two dogs, and a ferret. My brother who is about to get marries in November has long since moved away. I was adopted when I was two and had ever since been a part of the family. I am not the best at writing; I am dyslexic; so there will be spelling and grammar errors in this, so if you are a perfectionist, you may hate me. My main thing i am going to talk about is my life with my family. Maybe as a parent you will see things from my point of view and perhaps understand things about your child that you have never understood before, or maybe you are a teenager and can relate. I personally do not know of any other teenager goes through the things that i have gone through and perhaps that is why I am making this blog; to see if I am not alone.
My family has been effected my alcohol. On my mom's side, my grandpa drinks and is an alcoholic. On my dad's side my great grandfather was also an alcoholic and my uncle was a big time drug abuser. He died in about 2001, but my parents did not want me to see him when he was still alive. So both sides have been affected by it. No one realizes that family's that have been affected, weather they drink or not they can and probably have the alcoholic disease.
There are two types of it that I have seen. One type, the person can manipulate other's words and twist them around, they like to put the blame and spotlight on others, but themselves. They also like to be very well in control and have everything be about them unless they do something wrong and will make it all about the other person. The second type is the non-dominant one. They tend to loose themselves, everything becomes all about the other person. "Oh, I hope I can make this person happy so that way I can be happy".
This is what my grandma tells me (the one with the alcoholic husband). She has been going to Alanon for help in dealing with it. She tells me these things. My dad does act like the first one, while my mom the second. I wonder if this isn't about the alcohol and drugs in my family or if every family is like this.
I got this from a website- http://allpsych.com/journal/alcoholism.html
"Parental alcoholism also has severe effects on normal children of alcoholics. Many of these children have common symptoms such as low self-esteem, loneliness, guilt, feelings of helplessness, fears of abandonment, and chronic depression (Berger, 1993). Children of alcoholics (COAs) may feel responsible for the problems of the alcoholic and may think they created the problem. COAs often experience high levels of tension and stress. Young children of alcoholics may have frequent nightmares, bed wetting, and crying. They also may not have friends and may be afraid to go to school. Older children of alcoholics may show such depressive symptoms as obsessive perfectionism, hoarding, staying by themselves, or being excessively self-conscious. Studies have shown that because children of alcoholics feel that they are different from other people, they develop a poor self-image, in which they closely resemble their alcoholic parents (Silverstein, 1990, p.75). Also, teenage children of alcoholics may develop phobias."
And I have highlighted what I have felt in my childhood. Perhaps that what my grandma says is true. I do sometimes forget to think about myself and people have told me that I need to stop worrying about other people and start to stand up for myself. Yet I am not allowed to stand up for myself at home, why should school be any different? For this is what I do not understand. I used to feel alone and helpless, yes I have my grandma to talk to, but she couldn’t do much. She couldn’t say anything to my parents otherwise they could take me away from them. Also for his job he is a cop, who has to be assertive and in control and also the dominate one. Yet it is hard to separate being a dad and being that way for work.
My dad would yell at me about two times a week. Yet, I tried to be the best daughter I could be. I never tried to do anything wrong, it just seemed that I could never do anything right, and could never please and have my father think of me as at least descent. My mom was too afraid to stand up for me and when she did, I could hear them fight from their bedroom while I was in mine. I felt terrible and guilty for the fact that I did not involve her, yet she was getting yelled at by dad because she was standing up for me. Once I tried to tell her about dad and she said "I do not want to hear it. I am done with the two of you fighting and I will not be in the middle of it". I felt guilty that I made her feel like that, so I bottled it up. I didn't tell her what it was doing to me. His yelling at me made me feel terrible about myself because I never could please him, no matter how hard I tried. I ended up staying in my room, cutting myself and listening to music.
One night my mom got so furious at me because I refused to tell her why I was so depressed. She started yelling at me to tell her. I still didn't. Dad ended up getting in the middle of it when she yelled at me "you’re acting like a bitch". I was upset and I yelled "sometimes I don’t want to live here anymore". That got my dad mad at me because he thought that I did not appreciate everything that I have. He opened the door and said “then pack your suitcase and get out of my house”. I was so upset I ran upstairs to call my grandma. I could tell then, that it was getting really ugly and I needed to tell her because i was so scared. I had no intent of running away, I just needed to call her and ask her what to do. My dad came up stairs and saw that I had the phone in my hand that was still ringing. He took away my phone and said "and you’re not running away to grandma's either" He then repeatedly asked me "why do you not want to live here anymore". I started to hypervenalate, so I couldn't talk. He repeated the question, yelling at my face. As you know that did not help my breathing and so therefore I was not able to answer. He then put both hands on the sides of my head so I had to look at him and he asked again, when I did not answer, he took my and threw me on my bed and was two inches from my face. By then my mom had come upstairs and had saw this. She yelled at him "*his name* stop!" (I'm sorry; I will not give out names). He stared at me for a few seconds and then left, but not without kicking and breaking my wicker trash basket. My mom grabbed me a small brown bag to get my breathing back to normal so that way I could talk. I told her everything from me cutting myself to the way I was treated. We then decided it was time for a family councilor.
We were in counseling for about a year. My dad did not come to many sessions and when he did, he would argue with the therapist. He was not willing to change, even if it was to help his daughter and wife. Yet, things were getting better. My dad did not yell at me as much. It started to slow to a once a month. Our communication was better; over all it was really good. I started to have trust in them again and trusted them with being able to not be defensive if I told them how I felt. Before if I did, I was told I was a drama queen and I would be interrupted because he wouldn't agree with it. I was not able to speak up. So since everything was going well, we stopped counseling
Last month my dad went on sick time for his job. His back and his knee were killing him (major injuries he has had and were getting the best of him). And in September he will be officially retired. We had three dogs, but the work dog is too young to retire, so we have to give him to the man who will take my dad's place in work. So he is at home a lot of the time...... See how this becomes an issue????
At the beginning of this month, I had a boyfriend who did pot. He had told me two months earlier to this that he was doing it at that time for two months i had been contemplating on whether I should say something. I ended up telling his parents and then I told my own (now I do realize that I should have told my parents first, but I did at the time I thought was right). It was a hard thing to do. I mean, he was the first person that I had ever had sex with. He surprisingly was not mad at me for telling. He knew I had done the right thing, so he wasn’t going to be mad at me for that. Yet, he did not trust me anymore about him and drugs. He promised not to do them again (not like he has a choice with his parents knowing now anyway). He said if it would mean losing me, he would not. He has kept that promise for awhile now, so yes we are back together, but if he does do it again, he knows for sure that I will leave. I warned him.
Also at the beginning of this month, my dad congratulated me on being more grown up and telling them about it. Yet after that, he started not to talk to me, only if i had done something wrong. Like if I forgot to rinse a dish. He would jump all over me for that, yet he wouldn’t talk to me; wouldn’t say good morning or anything. And what was strange is that right after he got mad at me he would acknowledge the dog and be all sweet and kind to her, yet not me. and stranger yet, after he would get mad, a little time would pass and he would ask as though he wasn’t mad at me at all. There was one incident where mom and dad took me to play volleyball, just to practice and my dad told me to bend my knees as I served. So I did, yet he told me (in a harsher tone) to bend my knees; so I was trying to explain to him that I was. Well in his mind apparently I was giving attitude, yet I wasn’t trying to at all. I was trying to show him that I was. But anyway he stormed off and watched mom help me practice while he walked around the park. As time grew by I realized that I did not make the volleyball team and this was still during the time that me and my boyfriend were not back together, so I had a lot of negative things going on, so I did not need dad to add on top of it. I decided to not get involved with him, only when he decided to play nice. Yet when he would get mad, I would not engage in that game and fight with him. He still would ignore me, unless I did something not perfect. So I decided not to talk to him still. This went on until yesterday.
I was in my room and he opened the door and started yelling at me, that I was treating him like crap and don't respect him. He also had the indecency of calling his daughter a bitch and an ass (sorry but that is what he said, I will only cuss if that is what was said). I started to get fed up with his negative behavior and I started yelling at him. He then leaves my room for awhile, and two minutes later yells at me to come down stairs (by the way, mom is upstairs in the office while he is in my room yelling and the rooms are right next to each other and is still up there during this). He still yells at me saying how since I started to talk back to him while he was trying to help me in volleyball, he has treated me the same way I have been treating him. We end up screaming at each other because I wanted myself to be heard and whenever I try either he’s happy or not, it doesn't matter. He doesn't want to listen to my feelings. And as I try to be heard, He screams at me to shut up. He then gets up from his chair and slaps me and then sits back down and yells at me his side. Enough to where in a matter of a few minutes and seconds, my lip starts to swell. I reached for my lip because it tasted like blood. Yes, it was bleeding. He yelled at me "damn right I slapped you". A few seconds of him yelling, my mom comes down stairs and says "stop yelling both of you!!! I have been walking on egg shells the past few weeks" and my dad yells back as they are face to face "I don’t care that you have been walking on egg shells". They started yelling and by then I felt that it was my entire fault that they were fighting. I started to cry and yell "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry'. My dad said not everything is about you.... I forget exactly what was said with this sentence, yet I do remember hearing "this little bitch" as he pointed at me. After mom got fed up with dad, she sat on the coach and watched me and dad fight. I tried to say my feelings and even when he finally gave me a chance to speak, he would interrupt and say, "Bullshit" and even say that I was being dramatic. But this was how I, me, myself felt. He didn't give a rip about my opinion and about what I had to say, even when he let me speak, he would interrupt and.... just it pisses me off. I finally got so pissed to the point where I said "I hate you. I’m done". He said "you better watch what you say. You be careful" and I said "oh I will". I went upstairs to my room and I heard him say, so she hates me well I can show her hell then. He got up stairs and said to vacuum the upstairs, then dust, then vacuum the downstairs, and lastly clean the bathroom. In-between each he would ask "do you hate me less, more, or the same". I knew he just wanted me give up, but I said the same. Each. And. Every. Time. After I was done and there was nothing more to do, he let me eat and then go find him. Mind you that he hit me at around 2:30pm and it was 4 or 4:30pm at around this time. I had something quick to eat and then went to find him. We had a good chat, with communication skills and everything. Yet he still said that I treated him like shit and that he wasn't going to treat me like a little princess. That is not the way life works. He said that he was mad that I spend so much time in my room (well I’d be glad to come down, yet every time i do I get told that I'm doing something wrong). He said that I was not a contributing member of the family. After that chat he said that I was free to go to my room.
later that night, I asked my mom if I should put ice on my lip (by then the swelling had gone down a lot, but the colors of red and blackish purple are still there, but on the inside). She asked me what I meant, I told her that dad slapped me; I was surprised she didn't know, but at least she knows now. She apologized and said that I did not deserve that, and that things got out of hand. I told her not to apologize and that it wasn’t her actions that did that to me, I also apologized saying that she should not have had to witness that.
I called my grandma and we talked. She was going to talk to my mom in the morning and tell her that her main job is to protect me and that we should leave if it gets out of hand again, for my safety and hers. She talked to my mom like she said she would. Mom agreed that yes, she needed to do that and will in the future and that we will try a different councilor. My grandma had also said that there is a high chance that my parents could loose custody over me because of the fact that he slapped me (I have proof since I took a picture of my lip) and then just to prove that he verbally abuses me (which he does). That thought scares me. I have already lost a family once and then I was blessed to be adopted, I don't want this one to fall apart from me as well.
Now you are caught up in my life. There are still things in the future to say...... Like about letting Rocky (our work dog) go in a few days, the work situation, like is my mom going to go off to a part time job or is dad going to work again, and also things about my boyfriend and how that turns out, and just many things. So I just hope that this wasn't too long for one post and that I didn't bore anyone to death. I am new to this so I do not know if you can comment on this or not, if you can't I'll be sure to set up an email so anyone can give feedback. I'd also really like to know if anything similar goes on in your home. I'd really like to know if this is normal or not, and if this does have a lot to do with me.... If it does, I want to fix it, if not than who is at blame and can I help?? I do wonder if this is my entire fault. My dad was mad at me because I ignored him and then he confronted me about it and I had the indecency to yell at my dad like that. I wonder if I deserved to get slapped like that. I was just trying to be heard. I do not feel validated nor respected as a human being. Yet, am I just being dramatic. Or should I feel this way.... I am confessed. Yet I will try my best to stay strong for my mom and for the rest of the family.
Now you are caught up in my life. There are still things in the future to say...... Like about letting Rocky (our work dog) go in a few days, the work situation, like is my mom going to go off to a part time job or is dad going to work again, and also things about my boyfriend and how that turns out, and just many things. So I just hope that this wasn't too long for one post and that I didn't bore anyone to death. I am new to this so I do not know if you can comment on this or not, if you can't I'll be sure to set up an email so anyone can give feedback. I'd also really like to know if anything similar goes on in your home. I'd really like to know if this is normal or not, and if this does have a lot to do with me.... If it does, I want to fix it, if not than who is at blame and can I help?? I do wonder if this is my entire fault. My dad was mad at me because I ignored him and then he confronted me about it and I had the indecency to yell at my dad like that. I wonder if I deserved to get slapped like that. I was just trying to be heard. I do not feel validated nor respected as a human being. Yet, am I just being dramatic. Or should I feel this way.... I am confessed. Yet I will try my best to stay strong for my mom and for the rest of the family.
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