![]() ![]() To me, psychologically at least, my dad died 1000 times before he physically died. The love, care, and attention he had showed me up until that point slowly and increasingly withered away as he was swallowed up by the addiction that had plagued him all his adult life, except for the several years he achieved abstinence when I was born.Īt 16 years old, my dad, aged 49, died. ![]() My life before his demise into self-sabotage, self-loathing, shame, and addiction was characterised by love, stability, and innocence.Įvents following my dad’s relapse would change that. My dad relapsed and began using drugs and drinking alcohol when I was 8 or 9 years old. However, that isn’t to say that his drug use didn’t affect me. It was simply what my dad did and I didn’t have a judgement about it. Despite this, I didn’t explicitly understand the morality or legality of it. Growing up with my dad, I witnessed my dad purchase, prepare, and consume drugs. He spent the second half of my childhood misusing Alcohol, Cannabis, Heroin, Methadone, Valium, and Diazepam. This was an entry from my dad’s journal, written at some point during my childhood. ![]() ‘Woke up feeling very scared, was very emotional and anxious for over one hour, then I remembered I had a can of beer, drank that and it receded my fears long enough to get to the chemist to pick up Valium’. By Richard Devine, Social Worker and Bath and North East Somerset Council ![]()
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