To the One Who Was Raised by a Parent Who Wasn’t Sober,
You didn’t get the version of childhood you deserved.
You got the kind where the air in the room shifted depending on how many drinks/substances they had. Where you learned to read slurred words like a second language. Where you memorized the creak of the floorboards and the timing of moods.
You became responsible too early.
Too quiet. Too careful. Too aware.
You kept secrets. You made excuses. You hoped they’d change. And when they didn’t—you wondered if maybe you were the problem.
But you weren’t.
You were just a kid—wanting stability, safety, and love. And what you got was inconsistency, broken promises, and emotional whiplash.
Maybe they were functioning enough to convince the outside world everything was fine. Maybe no one saw what happened behind closed doors. Maybe you still question whether it was “bad enough.”
But trauma doesn’t need to be loud to be real.
It doesn’t need to come with bruises to leave scars.
And now, you’re here—doing the work.
Trying to build a life where love doesn’t come with fear. Trying to be the kind of parent you needed.
Trying to rewire a nervous system that never got to rest.
And I just want to say:
I see you. I honor the weight you carry.
And I’m proud of the way you’re learning that peace is your birthright—not a privilege.
You didn’t deserve the chaos.
You deserved to feel safe.
And it’s okay to grieve what you never had.
You’re allowed to walk away from their pain without carrying it any longer.
You don’t owe them your healing.
But you do owe yourself your freedom.
And you’re finally allowed to have it.
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Photo credit Cunning Baffling Powerful