Final Essay

Jackie Plevelich

ENG 3060J

April 29, 2014

Daddy’s Girl

            Looking back at pictures from when I was just a little girl, I knew that without even being told I was a daddy’s girl. One day, I was going through old pictures with my mom in preparation for my high school graduation party and I found a photograph that seemed so unfamiliar: I was probably two years old with my blonde, curly hair, lying on my dad’s broad chest, and he was smiling down on me as I gazed towards the camera. As I glared at the photo, my mom began telling me how I would have the most frantic temper tantrums with her, but that when I was with my dad I was always happy and content. No matter how much I want to deny it sometimes, I am my father’s daughter. As I get older, I learn more and more about myself just by thinking about my dad. I’ve not only inherited his genes, but also his insanely annoying obsessive compulsive disorder, his love, generosity, and loyalty for his family and friends, his work ethic, and most importantly his kind heart. There have been times where I didn’t want to admit how much I was like my dad because when I became old enough to understand, I learned that he was a very sick person. It wasn’t that I was afraid of physically losing him, but I realized that his illness would affect my family in one way or another.

            The first time I was ever affected by my dad’s alcoholism was in the third grade. A lot happened during this year. I transferred from catholic to public school, there was a death in the family, and in the midst of it all, I was trying to make new friends and adjust to my new surroundings. And this was when I began learning what an alcoholic was. Most third graders would never understand what it really is or how it could develop into something so prominent. To be honest, I didn’t fully understand it at the time, which was probably best for the time being. Things at home were never out of the ordinary to me because everything was so regular and in a sense, normal in our house. My mom would be waiting for me as I got off the bus from school, then my dad would come home an hour or so later from work and get a beer out of the refrigerator while we waited for dinner to be ready. My parents never fought in front of me, so if they were ever arguing, I never knew about it. Something must have happened though, because all of a sudden, my best friend was going away for a whole month. From what my mom tells me now, it was a mutual decision between my parents for my dad to go to a rehabilitation center. But like I said before, I still didn’t completely understand what was happening to him, but I could tell that it was destroying my mom inside. When I would ask her, “Where’s daddy? When will he be home?” she could only reply with, “He’s sick, he’s going to get better.” At the time I thought a month was equivalent to forever, but now I realize that a month in rehab didn’t help him at all.

            My mom would take me every weekend to go visit my dad. I vaguely remember what we did while we were there, but I remember how much I looked forward to making the long drive just to see him. I can hardly remember what his house looked like, but from what I can recall, he had two or three roommates and a dog. I’m not sure if the dog belonged to one of his roommates or if he was part of the facility as a whole, but that dog was one of my favorite parts about visiting my dad. I remember bringing my dad his favorite snacks from home, which I could tell took some of the stress off his shoulders. We would sit outside, take walks, and go to a nearby playground where we would enjoy each other’s company. When it began to get cooler and a little bit darker, I knew I was running out of time with him. So after we said our goodbyes, my mom and I would make the long drive back home where I would wait until the next time I could see him. After what seemed like an eternity, my dad came home a month later where he would continue to practice sobriety. From the time he came home up through the beginning of my high school career, he remained sober. Then, one Saturday, we were at a family gathering at my mom’s sister’s house for a birthday celebration. It was a sunny day with clear blue skies with an occasional wisp of air, blowing over empty cups and thin napkins. All of the girls were sitting on the patio while the boys were playing corn hole in the yard. Suddenly, we all realized that my dad was holding a beer. I knew after this point that things were probably not going to be the same because according to the National Council on Alcoholism, “Addiction is a family disease that stresses the family to the breaking point, impacts the stability of the home, the family’s unity, mental health, physical health, finances, and overall family dynamics.” He was only sober for about four years before our family would deteriorate and my relationship with my dad would inevitably fade.

            It got really bad when I was in high school. His drinking was no longer casual; it was his way of escaping from the world. Whether he had a good day or a bad day, he would go to the bar directly after work. Now, if he was having a good day, he wasn’t necessarily a happy drunk, but my mom and I could still communicate with him and he would be pleasant in responding towards us. But, if he had a bad day, he was mean and would get aggravated at very miniscule things. There were times when my mom and I would go hide out at my grandma’s house before he came home from work until we knew it was safe to return. My dad’s schedule is like clock work: he gets up at five, goes to work until four, and comes home from the bar between five thirty and six, then is usually in bed and asleep by eight. My dad was like what some people might refer to as the elephant in the room. According to a support center for families of problem drinkers, “It has been said that alcoholism is like an elephant in the living room that no one acknowledges is there. The elephant dominates the room; everyone steps around it carefully, afraid to disturb it.” We never thought we were in any kind of dangerous situation when my dad came home drunk, but we just preferred to avoid contact with him when we knew he had been drinking. This ultimately deteriorated my relationship with my dad. It has been this way for so long now, I can hardly remember ever being a “daddy’s girl.” Even though he’s my dad, there were times when I would consider him a complete stranger. Even though my dad was suffering from an uncontrollable disease, which caused him to treat my mom and I more poorly than how fathers are supposed to treat their families, he loved me unconditionally.

            As I was preparing to graduate high school, I was unsure how it was going to affect my relationship with my dad. He was always supportive of my choice to go away for school, but at the same time I knew he was sad to see his only little girl go out into the world on her own. Towards the end of my senior year, nothing seemed to have gotten or worse between my dad and I, which I think made me even more excited to leave home for a while. I honestly felt like it was a weight lifted off of my shoulders. I didn’t have to worry about avoiding my dad after school, I didn’t have to think about the next time an argument would break out, but I did have to worry about something while I was gone. Although I was excited about this next chapter in my life, I was really worried about leaving my mom. She had become my best friend through all of this. I don’t have siblings who I could turn to when I was feeling sad or scared through all of this, it was my mom who I always turned to. And she would come to me too. Not only had my dad’s problem affected his relationship with me, but it also affected my parent’s marriage in more than one way. There was a point when my mom was seriously considering leaving my dad once I went off to school, but I didn’t think she was emotionally prepared to actually go through it. My relationship with my mom is one of the strongest relationships I have in my life, because we understand things about each other more than anyone could.

              After a long summer, it was finally time for me to start my journey to Ohio University. The day I arrived was one of the happiest days of my life. I can still remember it like it happened yesterday. Moving into my dorm on one of the warmest days in August was an adventure in itself. I could tell how excited my parents were for me, but I also knew how much they were going to miss me. They realized that our house that we called home would become very quite and empty. After we had hauled everything from the car up four flights of stairs to my room, we said our goodbyes and I told them I would see them in a few months. At first, it didn’t really hit me that this was actually happening, but I was so relieved to be out of that house. The first time I came home was a great feeling, but I was really nervous to see how things had changed since I had left. Before I came home, my mom would tell me about my dad and his ongoing problem, so I didn’t expect things had changed at all. To my surprise, things were pretty calm that weekend, but I could still see how much my dad was suffering. When I returned back to school after my short visit home, I finally came to the realization that this is how things were probably going to be for the rest of my life. As I got older, I had an easier time with accepting this. Throughout college, my relationship with my dad got a little better. I felt like I could talk to him about more than I used to. I tell my mom everything, so sometimes I felt like my dad was a stranger to me because we just didn’t have that connection like my mom and I. But I was relieved to know that some of the tension in our house had faded while I was gone.

Despite all of the negative memories and the heated arguments that my dad’s drinking has caused within our household, he was always a good dad. As I got older, I started to understand the severity of his condition and that it wasn’t necessarily his fault that he was like this. There were times when I used to blame myself for the way my dad was. I thought that I was the source of his problem. I like to believe that my dad’s drinking progressed because of financial stress because I mean, why else would he start drinking himself to death? I didn’t know enough about other things that were happening in his life to understand how and why this happened to him, but one thing I do know is that I will love my dad no matter what. Aside from the problems that his illness caused within our family, he has always been a good dad to me. Now, as I’m getting ready to turn twenty-one, I’m very cautious about this disease and how runs in my family. So far, it hasn’t been a problem for me, but I know it could easily develop into one solely because of my family’s history with alcoholism. I know that when I become a parent I would never want my children to experience what I have because, as a licensed clinical addictions specialist claims, “family members follow the same downward spiral as an alcoholic or addict.” Although my dad still drinks, I think he has become more conscious of how it has affected our family. Lately, he seems happier and less stressed, but I still worry about him every day because that’s what daddy’s girls do.

 Works Cited

Haaken, Janice. "From Al-Anon To ACOA: Codependence And The Reconstruction Of

Caregiving." Signs: Journal Of Women In Culture & Society 18.(1993): 321-345.

Social Sciences Abstracts (H.W. Wilson). Web. 29 Apr. 2014.

Krishnan, Mya, et al. "Drug And Alcohol Problems: The Users' Perspective On Family

Members' Coping." Drug & Alcohol Review 20.4 (2001): 385-393. Academic

Search Complete. Web. 29 Apr. 2014.

"NCADD Celebrates 60 Years Of Leadership And Service... National Council On

Alcoholism And Drug Dependence." Alcoholism & Drug Abuse Weekly 16.44

(2004): 1-4. CINAHL Plus with Full Text. Web. 29 Apr. 2014.