Dating child alcoholics
“My career is non-existent, I can’t find a decent guy to date…. ” Without missing a beat, my friend turned from the lumps of clothes in her suitcase and said, “In all the years I’ve know you Dawn, I’ve never seen you finish anything you start.
Maybe that’s your problem.” Growing up, my parents’ addictions took priority over every thing else.
Her advice was simple, “Dawn, you’ve just got to fight through it and make a deliberate effort to choose fun as often as possible.” I’m still working on this one and every now and again I fall back into my old patterns but at least now I know that I have a choice and that it is indeed okay and even necessary for me to choose fun. Adult children of alcoholics judge themselves without mercy Organization is not a strength of mine.
Sure, I know where all of my fitted sheets are stashed in the closet but when it comes to paperwork and instruction manuals for electronic devices I am a first class mess.
So not only was I back to feeling different but thanks to a couple of catty preteen girls I was also labeled a liar.
It wasn’t until I started regularly attending Al-Anon meetings in my 20’s that I was able to connect with other people who had also been affected by addiction.
Eventually I realized that I didn’t owe this guy anything and I certainly didn't need to put up with his verbal abuse just because his massive ego had been bruised.Janet was the first to list and describe the 13 most common characteristics of Adult Children of Alcoholics or ACOAs.Below, I have listed the five characteristics out of Janet’s original list of 13 that I identify with the most and I have considered how each one has played out in my adult life. Adult children of alcoholics have difficulty having fun I took my first trip abroad, with my husband, back in 2011.A few months ago, I flat out forgot my debit card’s pin number and after tearing through every drawer in the house, several times over, I couldn’t find the slip of paper I wrote it on.
I could have easily solved the problem by calling my bank and setting up a new pin but instead I sat crossed legged on my living room floor, buried in a pile of random papers, and proceeded to berate and mercilessly judge myself.
Unfortunately, he used the call as his opportunity to berate and shame me.