A life with alcohol.

[WhisperingSilence]

A life with alcohol
Anonymous by Anonymous

Since about the age of 8 I've watched my dad drink himself into a state night in night out. He would have a pint whilst playing a game with us that would be the norm for a Sunday night whilst mum cooked the dinner, it never really bothered me that much as alcohol has always been in this house and always will be, but it was around the age of eight he started drinking heavily. During the day he is sober , holding down a job, working 9-6 in an office. He's not the 'stereotypical alcoholic'. But he's still an alcoholic.

It wasn't just Sunday nights he would drink. It was and still is every night. I can remember when his drinking would get out of control and still does. I have always felt different from my friends - in school most Monday mornings or days would start with sharing what we did at the weekend, most people would say they spent time with their dad, or that they took them somewhere, when it got to me what could I say ? 'Dad just drank' No. Talking about dad and his drinking isn't something we were allowed too and are still very much not allowed to do. Usually I would just say we went to the park or dad took us for an ice cream. Sometimes we did go to my Grandma and Grandpa's and I'd say that.

It wasn't really till my bed times got later and later that I really began to notice how much my dad drinks. A pint maybe 3 pints of beer a night was all I saw aged 8. Once I got to the age of about 11 my bedtime had got later and it was then that I was seeing my dad drinking more and more and more (and still am). But it was about this age I was beginning to notice my dad passing out on the sofa and having friends round was getting hard as they would want to stay later and this would mean them seeing dad drunk! So if they came round or come round I usually make sure they are gone by 7pm. I was going to school tired and exhausted from waiting up for dad to either go to bed or pass out on the sofa and trying to wake him up. I was getting angry in school not just because of what was going on at home but also because of I was getting bullied at school it was like where ever I went I was dealing with name calling and abuse. It was like there was no escape from it at all. I was labelled as naughty and badly behaved.Threatened with suspension and isolation and put on report.
I began to bunk school. Hang around in town and bunk class.

If I did attend lessons people would irritate me and annoy me and I would get angry. No one ever asked if I was okay and simply just assumed that was how I was. The reality was at home I was trying to juggle school work and my dads drinking with the abuse and arguments and avoid getting in trouble at school. Yet I could not tell anyone at school what was happening, I couldn't find the words and really didn't know how to actually word it and I felt like telling would ruin the family and destroy the family secret. So I kept quiet. I'd fall asleep in classes, I'd get angry, yet most of the time I would act like everything was fine.

One night we had a phone-call home from a hospital. Dad had gone away on holiday with his friends, and had been drinking, he had fallen down some steps and cracked his head open and fallen unconscious. The hospital had phoned home to say what had happened, mum told me and suddenly I was worrying whether or not my dad was going to die. I had school the next day and went into school I couldn't concentrate on my work or anything like that, this time a teacher noticed and pulled me aside and asked if I was okay, I didn't really know what to say so said I didn't know and that a hospital had phoned and dad was in hospital because he'd fallen down some steps and hurt himself. I didn't say anything about the fact dad had been drinking. Nothing happened after that and no one said anything more on the matter or the subject.


(I'm gona do more later as its hard writing it all in one go)

[WhisperingSilence]

A life with alcohol
Anonymous by Anonymous

Since about the age of 8 I've watched my dad drink himself into a state night in night out. He would have a pint whilst playing a game with us that would be the norm for a Sunday night whilst mum cooked the dinner, it never really bothered me that much as alcohol has always been in this house and always will be, but it was around the age of eight he started drinking heavily. During the day he is sober , holding down a job, working 9-6 in an office. He's not the 'stereotypical alcoholic'. But he's still an alcoholic.

It wasn't just Sunday nights he would drink. It was and still is every night. I can remember when his drinking would get out of control and still does. I have always felt different from my friends - in school most Monday mornings or days would start with sharing what we did at the weekend, most people would say they spent time with their dad, or that they took them somewhere, when it got to me what could I say ? 'Dad just drank' No. Talking about dad and his drinking isn't something we were allowed to do and we still don't really talk about it.

It wasn't really till my bed times got later and later that I really began to notice how much my dad drinks. A pint maybe 3 pints of beer a night was all I saw aged 8. Once I got to the age of about 11 my bedtime had got later and it was then that I was seeing my dad drinking more and more and more (and still am). But it was about this age I was beginning to notice my dad passing out on the sofa and having friends round was getting hard as they would want to stay later and this would mean them seeing dad drunk! So if they came round or come round I usually make sure they are gone by early evening. I was going to school tired and exhausted from waiting up for dad to either go to bed or pass out on the sofa and trying to wake him up. I was getting angry in school not just because of what was going on at home but also because of I was getting bullied at school it was like where ever I went I was dealing with name calling and abuse. It was like there was no escape from it at all. I was labelled as naughty and badly behaved.Threatened with suspension and isolation and put on report.
I began to bunk class. Hang around in town and bunk school.

If I did attend lessons people would irritate me and annoy me and I would get angry. No one ever asked if I was okay and simply just assumed that was how I was. The reality was at home I was trying to juggle school work and my dads drinking with the abuse and arguments and avoid getting in trouble at school. Yet I could not tell anyone at school what was happening, I couldn't find the words and really didn't know how to actually word it and I felt like telling would ruin the family and destroy the family secret. So I kept quiet. I'd fall asleep in classes, I'd get angry, yet most of the time I would act like everything was fine.



My attendance fell from 100% attendance to like 50% attendance, again this was put down to me being a trouble maker and me just not being bothered about education, my grades slipped in year 7 and 8 I was getting my homework in on time the majority of the time , as time went on I missed deadlines, didn't bother with handing it in, if I did do homework it would be sloppy, rushed sometimes done on the bus or the train on the way to school. There were times where I was getting A* on projects in years 7-8. Years 9-11 homework was not something I would consider important or have the time to do I would come home from school and run up to my room and just lie on my bed and cry, calm down, tidy my room, and then I would watch TV, have dinner and by then dad was home and then it was all about dealing with dad - arguments were a nightly event, sometimes we would have three to four arguments in one night.
If it was a ''good'' night and we only had one or two arguments I would manage to get some homework done before having to deal with dad and wake him up off the sofa etc.


I got the grades I needed for college - but college proved to be just as hard - though my attendance did seem to be better - I would sometimes turn up late - I was getting angrier and angrier it got to the point where the smallest thing could set me off if some one said something to me I did not like I would be up out of my seat and shouting, other times I would completely shut down and just stop talking - my tutor noticed and took me aside and asked me what was going I said nothing at first, I had a few friends and one of my friends did find out about my dad - this friend became my rock - they phoned me most nights to make sure I was ok and that dad was not getting violent, they offered me a place at their house if I ever needed it, they gave me a card with numbers on it to call for if I was ever to be picked out, they spoke to the police for me but made it out it was a friend of a friend. I don't think I would have made it through the first year of college without that friend. This friend is also the friend who encouraged me to contact Child-line.
I did phone up Child-line. They became a safe place for me. I talked about dad, the bullying, the self harming ( by now I was self harming many times a day) there'd be times where I would ring child-line crying my eyes out.
College was also the first time I had any type of involvement with socials services - I was taken to a little room where there was a college counsellor and a child protection officer and my course team leader and another person, they told me social services were going to be involved whether I wanted them to be or not - someone had told them about my dad - panic went through me - was he going to get arrested , what was going to happen to my family. A social worker came out to see me at college the next day and again I was shut in a room with some people and was forced to talk. They closed the case. I learned to not trust social services.

I was left to muddle on through, I moved colleges after. It was at this college that my tutor first saw the cuts on my arms and asked me about them - pointing to them and saying what are those on your arms , she asked me this in front of the whole class, I pulled my sleeves down and told her it was nothing when really the night before I had used a safety pin to cut myself with.

It was like I was smiling on the outside but on the inside screaming out for someone to help me and notice me and offer me some sort of way out. No one who I saw on a daily basis at college etc did this.

I began to look for help myself and found a few places most of these were websites - some websites were less helpful than others - there's two websites I use on a regular basis.
I grew to old for child-line.
I now use another help-line this helpline along with the websites have become a safe place for me, somewhere where I can talk about things and be understood.

Talking hasn't solved my dad and it has not helped him stop drinking - but I do now know that I cannot stop my dad from drinking and that is something has to do himself.
I still look after my dad and wake him up off the sofa on a weekly basis.
Talking might not stop him drinking but talking about it really does help as keeping it inside does not do anyone any good.

[WhisperingSilence]

I decided to remove the bit about the hospital for fear it may identify me if a family member or a friend of mine who does not use this site was to see it. Also if anyone can edit this so it does not identify me in anyway what so ever that would also be useful - also is there a way for this to just be posted on TH itself like not publically for guests etc to this site to see (did not realise articles were visable to guests) as if it is I fear someone from my family may read it and trace it back to me. If that's not possible - could it be editied in a way that does not sound like me if that makes sense sorry if this sounds like I'm being difficult. . I'm just abit scared that my family etc could see it and that it could be traced back to me.

[MsNobleEleanor]

A life with alcohol
Anonymous by Anonymous

Since about the age of 8 I've watched my dad drink himself into a state night in night out. He would have a pint (20 ounces) whilst (while) playing a game with us that would be the norm for a Sunday night whilst (while) mum (mom) cooked the dinner, it never really bothered me that much as alcohol has always been in this house and always will be, but it was around the age of eight he started drinking heavily. During the day he is sober, holding down a job, working 9-6 in an office. He's not the 'stereotypical alcoholic'. But he's still an alcoholic.

It wasn't just Sunday nights he would drink. It was and still is every night. I can remember when his drinking would get out of control and still does. I have always felt different from my friends - in school most Monday mornings or days would start with sharing what we did at the weekend, most people would say they spent time with their dad, or that they took them somewhere, when it got to me what could I say? 'Dad just drank' No. Talking about dad and his drinking isn't something we were allowed to do and we still don't really talk about it.

It wasn't really till my bed times got later and later that I really began to notice how much my dad drinks. A pint maybe 3 pints (if this should be changed to oucnes which would be, “20 ounces maybe 60 ounces") of beer a night was all I saw aged 8. Once I got to the age of about 11 my bedtime had got later and it was then that I was seeing my dad drinking more and more and more (and still am). But it was about this age I was beginning to notice my dad passing out on the sofa and having friends round was getting hard as they would want to stay later and this would mean them seeing dad drunk! So if they came round or come round I usually make sure they are gone by early evening. I was going to school tired and exhausted from waiting up for dad to either go to bed or pass out on the sofa and trying to wake him up. I was getting angry in school not just because of what was going on at home but also because of I was getting bullied at school it was like where ever I went I was dealing with name calling and abuse. It was like there was no escape from it at all. I was labelled as naughty and badly behaved. (behaved and threatened needed a space after the period, there wasn’t one) Threatened with suspension and isolation and put on report.
I began to bunk (skip) class. Hang around in town and bunk (skip) school.

If I did attend lessons people would irritate me and annoy me and I would get angry. No one ever asked if I was okay and simply just assumed that was how I was. The reality was at home I was trying to juggle school work and my dads drinking with the abuse and arguments and avoid getting in trouble at school. Yet I could not tell anyone at school what was happening, I couldn't find the words and really didn't know how to actually word it and I felt like telling would ruin the family and destroy the family secret. So I kept quiet. I'd fall asleep in classes, I'd get angry, yet most of the time I would act like everything was fine.



My attendance fell from 100% attendance to like 50% attendance, again this was put down to me being a trouble maker and me just not being bothered about education, my grades slipped in year 7 and 8 (in grade 6 and 7) I was getting my homework in on time the majority of the time , as time went on I missed deadlines, didn't bother with handing it in, if I did do homework it would be sloppy, rushed sometimes done on the bus or the train (not sure if you would like to use something different for train or not) on the way to school. There were times where I was getting A* (do you mean As?) on projects in years 7-8. Years 9-11 (in grade 6-7. Grade 8-10) (I’ve changed this information to protect the location, see below for more information please) homework was not something I would consider important or have the time to do I would come home from school and run up to my room and just lie on my bed and cry, calm down, tidy my room, and then I would watch TV, have dinner and by then dad was home and then it was all about dealing with dad - arguments were a nightly event, sometimes we would have three to four arguments in one night.
If it was a ''good'' night and we only had one or two arguments I would manage to get some homework done before having to deal with dad and wake him up off the sofa etc.


I got the grades I needed for college - but college proved to be just as hard - though my attendance did seem to be better - I would sometimes turn up late (arrive late to class) (is this what you are referring to as “turn up late”?)- I was getting angrier and angrier it got to the point where the smallest thing could set me off if some one said something to me I did not like I would be up out of my seat and shouting, other times I would completely shut down and just stop talking - my tutor noticed and took me aside and asked me what was going I said nothing at first, I had a few friends and one of my friends did find out about my dad - this friend became my rock - they phoned (called) me most nights to make sure I was ok and that dad was not getting violent, they offered me a place at their house if I ever needed it, they gave me a card with numbers on it to call for if I was ever to be picked out, they spoke to the police for me but made it out it was a friend of a friend. I don't think I would have made it through the first year of college without that friend. This friend is also the friend who encouraged me to contact Child-line (Kids Help Phone) (please refer to bottom where it will be explained).
I did phone up Child-line (Kids Help Phone). They became a safe place for me. I talked about dad, the bullying, the self harming (by now I was self harming many times a day) there'd be times where I would ring child-line (call Kids Help Phone) crying my eyes out.
College was also the first time I had any type of involvement with socials services - I was taken to a little room where there was a college counsellor and a child protection officer and my course team leader (program coordinator) (please refer to bottom where it will be explained)and another person, they told me social services were going to be involved whether I wanted them to be or not - someone had told them about my dad - panic went through me - was he going to get arrested , what was going to happen to my family. A social worker came out to see me at college the next day and again I was shut in a room with some people and was forced to talk. They closed the case. I learned to not trust social services.

I was left to muddle on through, I moved colleges after. It was at this college that my tutor first saw the cuts on my arms and asked me about them - pointing to them and saying what are those on your arms, she asked me this in front of the whole class, I pulled my sleeves down and told her it was nothing when really the night before I had used a safety pin to cut myself with.

It was like I was smiling on the outside but on the inside screaming out for someone to help me and notice me and offer me some sort of way out. No one who I saw on a daily basis at college etc did this.

I began to look for help myself and found a few places most of these were websites - some websites were less helpful than others - there's two websites I use on a regular basis.
I grew to old for child-line (Kids Help Phone).
I now use another help-line this helpline along with the websites have become a safe place for me, somewhere where I can talk about things and be understood.

Talking hasn't solved my dad and it has not helped him stop drinking - but I do now know that I cannot stop my dad from drinking and that is something has to do himself.
I still look after my dad and wake him up off the sofa on a weekly basis.
Talking might not stop him drinking but talking about it really does help as keeping it inside does not do anyone any good.

Below are the reasons for my edits and questions:

In the red should be changed to what the green implies.

I went ahead and changed a few things so the anonymity is protected 100%. The green areas are wording changes to North American English and how we say things. This is a biggie in identifying where this information is coming from. So by changing the tone of the words but keep the same meaning will have readers/viewers think it’s coming from North America. I changed up the grades to proper North American language that I looked up so I have the correct grades/ages. Instead of saying year, it’s grades, which I looked up what year that is to the correct grade. You can find this here.

I also used Kids Help Phone to replace “child-line” Kids Help Phone is a Canadian only number for youth up to age 20 (so this I found would be appropriate to how you explained later on about your reached there age limit)

I also found some spacing from periods and not spacing afterwards. I just went ahead and fixed that buy hitting the space key.

Also with the beer for pints to ounces, I’m unsure if you would like to change that or not, my reasoning is pint isn’t used much in Canada (or that I haven’t heard of) however ounces are, found here. So, I basically based this to have came from Canada.

Please Note: I may have missed a few wordings and if I see any that need to be changed to North American Language I will do that. I know you don't want any of this to trace back to you, so that is why I made it sound like it came from Canada (hence used Kids Help Phone which is Canadian only)

[WhisperingSilence]

Originally Posted by Alergnon

A life with alcohol
Anonymous by Anonymous

Since about the age of 8 I've watched my dad drink himself into a state night in night out. He would have a pint (20 ounces) whilst (while) playing a game with us that would be the norm for a Sunday night whilst (while) mum (mom) cooked the dinner, it never really bothered me that much as alcohol has always been in this house and always will be, but it was around the age of eight he started drinking heavily. During the day he is sober, holding down a job, working 9-6 in an office. He's not the 'stereotypical alcoholic'. But he's still an alcoholic.

It wasn't just Sunday nights he would drink. It was and still is every night. I can remember when his drinking would get out of control and still does. I have always felt different from my friends - in school most Monday mornings or days would start with sharing what we did at the weekend, most people would say they spent time with their dad, or that they took them somewhere, when it got to me what could I say? 'Dad just drank' No. Talking about dad and his drinking isn't something we were allowed to do and we still don't really talk about it.

It wasn't really till my bed times got later and later that I really began to notice how much my dad drinks. A pint maybe 3 pints (if this should be changed to oucnes which would be, “20 ounces maybe 60 ounces") of beer a night was all I saw aged 8. Once I got to the age of about 11 my bedtime had got later and it was then that I was seeing my dad drinking more and more and more (and still am). But it was about this age I was beginning to notice my dad passing out on the sofa and having friends round was getting hard as they would want to stay later and this would mean them seeing dad drunk! So if they came round or come round I usually make sure they are gone by early evening. I was going to school tired and exhausted from waiting up for dad to either go to bed or pass out on the sofa and trying to wake him up. I was getting angry in school not just because of what was going on at home but also because of I was getting bullied at school it was like where ever I went I was dealing with name calling and abuse. It was like there was no escape from it at all. I was labelled as naughty and badly behaved. (behaved and threatened needed a space after the period, there wasn’t one) Threatened with suspension and isolation and put on report.
I began to bunk (skip) class. Hang around in town and bunk (skip) school.

If I did attend lessons people would irritate me and annoy me and I would get angry. No one ever asked if I was okay and simply just assumed that was how I was. The reality was at home I was trying to juggle school work and my dads drinking with the abuse and arguments and avoid getting in trouble at school. Yet I could not tell anyone at school what was happening, I couldn't find the words and really didn't know how to actually word it and I felt like telling would ruin the family and destroy the family secret. So I kept quiet. I'd fall asleep in classes, I'd get angry, yet most of the time I would act like everything was fine.



My attendance fell from 100% attendance to like 50% attendance, again this was put down to me being a trouble maker and me just not being bothered about education, my grades slipped in year 7 and 8 (in grade 6 and 7) I was getting my homework in on time the majority of the time , as time went on I missed deadlines, didn't bother with handing it in, if I did do homework it would be sloppy, rushed sometimes done on the bus or the train (not sure if you would like to use something different for train or not) on the way to school. There were times where I was getting A* (do you mean As?) on projects in years 7-8. Years 9-11 (in grade 6-7. Grade 8-10) (I’ve changed this information to protect the location, see below for more information please) homework was not something I would consider important or have the time to do I would come home from school and run up to my room and just lie on my bed and cry, calm down, tidy my room, and then I would watch TV, have dinner and by then dad was home and then it was all about dealing with dad - arguments were a nightly event, sometimes we would have three to four arguments in one night.
If it was a ''good'' night and we only had one or two arguments I would manage to get some homework done before having to deal with dad and wake him up off the sofa etc.


I got the grades I needed for college - but college proved to be just as hard - though my attendance did seem to be better - I would sometimes turn up late (arrive late to class) (is this what you are referring to as “turn up late”?)- I was getting angrier and angrier it got to the point where the smallest thing could set me off if some one said something to me I did not like I would be up out of my seat and shouting, other times I would completely shut down and just stop talking - my tutor noticed and took me aside and asked me what was going I said nothing at first, I had a few friends and one of my friends did find out about my dad - this friend became my rock - they phoned (called) me most nights to make sure I was ok and that dad was not getting violent, they offered me a place at their house if I ever needed it, they gave me a card with numbers on it to call for if I was ever to be kicked out, they spoke to the police for me but made it out it was a friend of a friend. I don't think I would have made it through the first year of college without that friend. This friend is also the friend who encouraged me to contact Child-line (Kids Help Phone) (please refer to bottom where it will be explained).
I did phone up Child-line (Kids Help Phone). They became a safe place for me. I talked about dad, the bullying, the self harming (by now I was self harming many times a day) there'd be times where I would ring child-line (call Kids Help Phone) crying my eyes out.
College was also the first time I had any type of involvement with socials services - I was taken to a little room where there was a college counsellor and a child protection officer and my course team leader (program coordinator) (please refer to bottom where it will be explained)and another person, they told me social services were going to be involved whether I wanted them to be or not - someone had told them about my dad - panic went through me - was he going to get arrested , what was going to happen to my family. A social worker came out to see me at college the next day and again I was shut in a room with some people and was forced to talk. They closed the case. I learned to not trust social services.

I was left to muddle on through, I moved colleges after. It was at this college that my tutor first saw the cuts on my arms and asked me about them - pointing to them and saying what are those on your arms, she asked me this in front of the whole class, I pulled my sleeves down and told her it was nothing when really the night before I had used a safety pin to cut myself with.

It was like I was smiling on the outside but on the inside screaming out for someone to help me and notice me and offer me some sort of way out. No one who I saw on a daily basis at college etc did this.

I began to look for help myself and found a few places most of these were websites - some websites were less helpful than others - there's two websites I use on a regular basis.
I grew to old for child-line (Kids Help Phone).
I now use another help-line this helpline along with the websites have become a safe place for me, somewhere where I can talk about things and be understood.

Talking hasn't solved my dad and it has not helped him stop drinking - but I do now know that I cannot stop my dad from drinking and that is something has to do himself.
I still look after my dad and wake him up off the sofa on a weekly basis.
Talking might not stop him drinking but talking about it really does help as keeping it inside does not do anyone any good.

Below are the reasons for my edits and questions:

In the red should be changed to what the green implies.

I went ahead and changed a few things so the anonymity is protected 100%. The green areas are wording changes to North American English and how we say things. This is a biggie in identifying where this information is coming from. So by changing the tone of the words but keep the same meaning will have readers/viewers think it’s coming from North America. I changed up the grades to proper North American language that I looked up so I have the correct grades/ages. Instead of saying year, it’s grades, which I looked up what year that is to the correct grade. You can find this here.

I also used Kids Help Phone to replace “child-line” Kids Help Phone is a Canadian only number for youth up to age 20 (so this I found would be appropriate to how you explained later on about your reached there age limit)

I also found some spacing from periods and not spacing afterwards. I just went ahead and fixed that buy hitting the space key.

Also with the beer for pints to ounces, I’m unsure if you would like to change that or not, my reasoning is pint isn’t used much in Canada (or that I haven’t heard of) however ounces are, found here. So, I basically based this to have came from Canada.

Please Note: I may have missed a few wordings and if I see any that need to be changed to North American Language I will do that. I know you don't want any of this to trace back to you, so that is why I made it sound like it came from Canada (hence used Kids Help Phone which is Canadian only)

I like the idea of changing it to Mom and the grades but maybe we could put the year bit in brackets and the same with the pints - could we put the pints in brackets ? I changed 'picked out ' to kicked out as I realized that was a typo on my half which I noticed when I was reading through the edits .

[MsNobleEleanor]

Okay. Did you want me to make the changes and post it back in the black colour for changing, "mum" to "mom" and put the "pint" and "year" in brackets?

I can fix it up if this is what you want.

Also did you want to leave child-line the same or change it to Kids Help Phone or another place?

I was more concerned for making it not identify you because you stated it very well. However, I don't think there is much "bad grammar" because this is your story and how you present yourself in telling it.

[WhisperingSilence]

Yeah -unless we just the helpline to a helpline, I think Robin and Chess are going to do some final edits at some point to, yeah because I was thinking like with the pint and year thing to add it in as its like then sort of covered both countries and it might just look like someone has converted it into both or something like that

[PSY]

Lydia, thank you for writing this article so quickly! Chantal, thank you for editing this article so quickly! =) I was only able to edit part of this article due to time constraints. Later this week, I will take another look at the article and focus on restructuring it, in addition to making spelling/grammar/punctuation edits. (Lydia, if you apply these edits, please be sure to remove all formatting afterward. That way, we won't have to worry about the font type and color. You can do this by selecting everything and clicking on the icon in the upper-left corner of the editing area [it looks like two A's with an "X" through them] after you have applied all of the edits. If you do it before applying all of the edits, then you won't know what needs to be removed/added/etc.)

One thing I noticed is that you frequently switch between the past and present tense. It might be easier if you just stick with one at a time. For example, when you're talking about your childhood experiences, it might help to just talk about what happened in the past. Later in the article, you can switch to the present day and what you're struggling with now, vs. what you were struggling with at the ages of eight and eleven. I understand that many of your past struggles are the same as your present struggles, but there are ways to discuss the past and present without being repetitive. I can provide some suggestions later this week. =)

A life with alcohol
Anonymous By Anonymous

Since about the age of 8 eight, I've watched my dad drink himself into a state night in night out [Robin: I'd like to avoid these sorts of vague statements... some users may not know what you mean by "into a state night in night out," so how about, "to the point of intoxication almost every night"?]. He would have 20 ounces while playing a game with us, and that would be the norm for a Sunday night while Mom cooked the dinner,. iIt never really bothered me that much when I was younger, as alcohol has always been in this house and always will be, but it was around the age of eight he started drinking heavily [Robin: This statement seems repetitive, so I'd remove it.]. During the day he is sober, holdsing down a job, and worksing from 9 A.M. to -6 P.M. in an office setting. He's not the a 'stereotypical alcoholic,'. Bbut he's still an alcoholic.

It wasn't just Sunday nights he would drink. It was and still is every night. [Robin: Again, this statement seems repetitive to me.] I can remember when his drinking would get out of control, and it still does.I have always felt different from my friends. - iIn school, most Monday mornings or days would start with sharing about what we did at over the weekend,. most Many people would say they spent time with their dad, or that they their dad took them somewhere,. wWhen it got to me, what could I say? 'Dad just drank'? No. Talking about dDad and his drinking isn't wasn't something we were allowed to do, and we still don't really talk about it.

It wasn't really untill my bed times got became later and later that I really began to notice how much my dad drinks. 20 to 60 ounces of beer a per night was all I saw up until the age of eleven aged 8. Once I got to the age of about 11 my bedtime had got later and it was then that I was seeing my dad drinking more and more and more (and still am). [Robin: Again, repetitive statement.] But iIt was about this age I was beginning that I began to notice my dad passing out on the sofa. and having friends round was getting hard as they would want to stay later and this would mean them seeing dad drunk! Inviting friends to my house became problematic, because the later they stayed, the more likely it was that they would see my dad when he was drunk! So if they came round or come round To keep this from happening, I usually would make sure they are were gone by early evening. I was going to school tired and exhausted from waiting up for dad to either go to bed or pass out on the sofa and trying to wake him up. I was getting angry in school not just because of what was going on at home but also because of I was getting bullied at school it was like where ever I went I was dealing with name calling and abuse. It was like there was no escape from it at all. I was labelled as naughty and badly behaved. (behaved and threatened needed a space after the period, there wasn’t one) Threatened with suspension and isolation and put on report.
I began to bunk (skip) class. Hang around in town and bunk (skip) school.

If I did attend lessons people would irritate me and annoy me and I would get angry. No one ever asked if I was okay and simply just assumed that was how I was. The reality was at home I was trying to juggle school work and my dads drinking with the abuse and arguments and avoid getting in trouble at school. Yet I could not tell anyone at school what was happening, I couldn't find the words and really didn't know how to actually word it and I felt like telling would ruin the family and destroy the family secret. So I kept quiet. I'd fall asleep in classes, I'd get angry, yet most of the time I would act like everything was fine.



My attendance fell from 100% attendance to like 50% attendance, again this was put down to me being a trouble maker and me just not being bothered about education, my grades slipped in year 7 and 8 (in grade 6 and 7) I was getting my homework in on time the majority of the time , as time went on I missed deadlines, didn't bother with handing it in, if I did do homework it would be sloppy, rushed sometimes done on the bus or the train (not sure if you would like to use something different for train or not) on the way to school. There were times where I was getting A* (do you mean As?) on projects in years 7-8. Years 9-11 (in grade 6-7. Grade 8-10) (I’ve changed this information to protect the location, see below for more information please) homework was not something I would consider important or have the time to do I would come home from school and run up to my room and just lie on my bed and cry, calm down, tidy my room, and then I would watch TV, have dinner and by then dad was home and then it was all about dealing with dad - arguments were a nightly event, sometimes we would have three to four arguments in one night.
If it was a ''good'' night and we only had one or two arguments I would manage to get some homework done before having to deal with dad and wake him up off the sofa etc.


I got the grades I needed for college - but college proved to be just as hard - though my attendance did seem to be better - I would sometimes turn up late (arrive late to class) (is this what you are referring to as “turn up late”?)- I was getting angrier and angrier it got to the point where the smallest thing could set me off if some one said something to me I did not like I would be up out of my seat and shouting, other times I would completely shut down and just stop talking - my tutor noticed and took me aside and asked me what was going I said nothing at first, I had a few friends and one of my friends did find out about my dad - this friend became my rock - they phoned (called) me most nights to make sure I was ok and that dad was not getting violent, they offered me a place at their house if I ever needed it, they gave me a card with numbers on it to call for if I was ever to be picked out, they spoke to the police for me but made it out it was a friend of a friend. I don't think I would have made it through the first year of college without that friend. This friend is also the friend who encouraged me to contact Child-line (Kids Help Phone) (please refer to bottom where it will be explained).
I did phone up Child-line (Kids Help Phone). They became a safe place for me. I talked about dad, the bullying, the self harming (by now I was self harming many times a day) there'd be times where I would ring child-line (call Kids Help Phone) crying my eyes out.
College was also the first time I had any type of involvement with socials services - I was taken to a little room where there was a college counsellor and a child protection officer and my course team leader (program coordinator) (please refer to bottom where it will be explained)and another person, they told me social services were going to be involved whether I wanted them to be or not - someone had told them about my dad - panic went through me - was he going to get arrested , what was going to happen to my family. A social worker came out to see me at college the next day and again I was shut in a room with some people and was forced to talk. They closed the case. I learned to not trust social services.

I was left to muddle on through, I moved colleges after. It was at this college that my tutor first saw the cuts on my arms and asked me about them - pointing to them and saying what are those on your arms, she asked me this in front of the whole class, I pulled my sleeves down and told her it was nothing when really the night before I had used a safety pin to cut myself with.

It was like I was smiling on the outside but on the inside screaming out for someone to help me and notice me and offer me some sort of way out. No one who I saw on a daily basis at college etc did this.

I began to look for help myself and found a few places most of these were websites - some websites were less helpful than others - there's two websites I use on a regular basis.
I grew to old for child-line (Kids Help Phone).
I now use another help-line this helpline along with the websites have become a safe place for me, somewhere where I can talk about things and be understood.

Talking hasn't solved my dad and it has not helped him stop drinking - but I do now know that I cannot stop my dad from drinking and that is something has to do himself.
I still look after my dad and wake him up off the sofa on a weekly basis.
Talking might not stop him drinking but talking about it really does help as keeping it inside does not do anyone any good.

[Adam the Fish]

I'll leave this until you complete your edits, Robin, but if you want a hand editing, please give me a shout.

[PSY]

Here are my edits, combined with Chantal's. Important note to everyone: when you apply edits, please remember to remove your default font formatting (e.g., my default formatting is Georgia font with dimgray color, and this should always be removed when editing articles). It's very time-consuming for me to selectively remove default font formatting. The Articles Team guidelines and my thread should help clear things up, but if you're still confused, please let me know before you begin to apply edits! =)

(P.S. - I had to use two posts for the article because I exceeded the character limit. This shouldn't be a problem once you apply the edits, since the color tags will go away. =P)

A life with alcohol [Robin: This title may be misleading, as it sounds like you struggled with alcoholism. Perhaps "Life with an alcoholic parent"?]
Anonymous By Anonymous

Since about the age of 8 eight, I've watched my dad drink himself into a state night in night out [Robin: I'd like to avoid these sorts of vague statements... some users may not know what you mean by "into a state night in night out," so how about, "to the point of intoxication almost every night"?]. He would have 20 ounces while playing a game with us, and that would be the norm for a Sunday night while Mom cooked the dinner,. iIt never really bothered me that much when I was younger, as alcohol has always been in this house and always will be, but it was around the age of eight he started drinking heavily [Robin: This statement seems repetitive, so I'd remove it.]. During the day he is sober, holdsing down a job, and worksing from 9 A.M. to -6 P.M. in an office setting. He's not the a 'stereotypical alcoholic,'. Bbut he's still an alcoholic.

It wasn't just Sunday nights he would drink. It was and still is every night. [Robin: Again, this statement seems repetitive to me.] I can remember when his drinking would get out of control, and it still does.I have always felt different from my friends. - iIn school, most Monday mornings or days would start with sharing about what we did at over the weekend,. most Many people would say they spent time with their dad, or that they their dad took them somewhere,. wWhen it got to me, what could I say? 'Dad just drank'? No. Talking about dDad and his drinking isn't wasn't something we were allowed to do, and we still don't really talk about it.

It wasn't really untill my bed times got became later and later that I really began to notice how much my dad drinks. 20 to 60 ounces of beer a per night was all I saw up until the age of eleven aged 8. Once I got to the age of about 11 my bedtime had got later and it was then that I was seeing my dad drinking more and more and more (and still am). [Robin: Again, repetitive statement.] But iIt was about this age I was beginning that I began to notice my dad passing out on the sofa. and having friends round was getting hard as they would want to stay later and this would mean them seeing dad drunk! Inviting friends to my house became problematic, because the later they stayed, the more likely it was that they would see my dad when he was drunk! So if they came round or come round To keep this from happening, I usually would make sure they are were gone by early evening.I was going to school tired and exhausted from waiting up for my dad to either go to bed or pass out on the sofa, and trying to wake him up the following morning. I was getting angry in school, not just because of what was going on at home, but also because of I was getting bullied at school. it was like where Wherever I went, I was dealing with name-calling and abuse. It was like there was no escape from it at all. I was labelled as naughty and badly behaved. (behaved and threatened needed a space after the period, there wasn’t one) Threatened with suspension and isolation and put on report. I began to bunk (skip) class. Hang around in town and bunk (skip) school. [Robin: Perhaps "I was threatened with suspension due to my behavior, and I began to skip classes" to make those statements more concise.]

If I did attend lessons, people would irritate me and annoy me and I would get become angry. No one ever asked if I was okay and simply just assumed "that was how I was." The reality was at home that I was trying to juggle schoolwork and my dad's drinking with the abuse and arguments and avoid getting in trouble at school. Yet I could not tell anyone at school what was happening, I couldn't find the words to say and really didn't know how to actually word it and I felt like telling the truth would ruin the family and destroy the family secret. So I kept quiet. I'd fall asleep in classes, I'd get angry, yet most of the time I would act like everything was fine.

My attendance fell from 100% attendance to like 50% attendance, again this which was put down attributed to me being a troublemaker and me just not being bothered about education,. my grades slipped in year 7 and 8 (in grade 6 and 7) I was getting my homework in on time the majority of the time , aAs time went on, I missed deadlines, and didn't bother with handing it homework in,. iIf I did do homework, it would be sloppy, and rushed, sometimes done on the bus or the train (not sure if you would like to use something different for train or not) on the way to school. There were times where I was getting A* (do you mean As?) on projects in years 7-8. Years 9-11 (in grade 6-7. Grade 8-10) (I’ve changed this information to protect the location, see below for more information please) when I would get excellent grades on assignments, but overall, my grades were slipping. hHomework was not something I would considered to be important, nor did I have the time to do it. I would come home from school, and run up to my room, and just lie on my bed and cry,. After a while, I would calm down, tidy my room, and then I would watch TV, and have dinner. and bBy then, my dad was home, and then it was all about dealing with dad him. - arguments were a nightly event, sSometimes, we would have three up to four arguments in one night. If it was a ''good'' night and we only had one or two arguments, I would manage to get some homework done before having to deal with my dad passing out on the sofa and having to wake him up the following morning. and wake him up off the sofa etc

[PSY]

I got Somehow, I managed to get the grades I needed for college, [Robin: I reworded the beginning of this sentence/paragraph to emphasize how difficult yet impressive it was for you to accomplish this... but you can do away with the embellishment if you think it's too "over-the-top" or "dramatic." :P] - but college proved to be just as hard. - Although my attendance did seem to be better improved, - I would still arrive late for class. sometimes turn up late (arrive late to class) (is this what you are referring to as “turn up late”?)- I was getting angrier and angrier becoming more and more angry. iIt got to the point where the smallest thing could set me off. iIf someone said something to me that I did not like, I would be up out of rise from my seat and start shouting, other times or I would completely shut down and just stop talking. - mMy tutor took noticed and took me aside and asked me what was going on. I said nothing at first the time, but I had a few friends, and one of my friends did find out about my dad. - tThis friend became my rock - they phoned (called) me most nights to make sure I was okay and that my dad was not getting violent, they offered me a place at their house if I ever needed it, they gave me a card with emergency phone numbers on it to call for if I was ever to be picked out, and they spoke to the police for me but made it out it was a friend of a friend on my behalf. I don't think I would have made it through the first year of college without that friend. This friend is also the friend who encouraged me to contact Child-line (Kids Help Phone) (please refer to bottom where it will be explained). a hotline, or telephone help line. I did phone up Child-line (Kids Help Phone). They The hotline became a safe place for me to express myself. I talked about my dad, the bullying, and the self-harming (by now I was self-harming which I was doing many times a day). there'd There would be times where I would ring child-line (call Kids Help Phone) crying my eyes out.

College was also the first time when I had any type of involvement with socials services. - I was taken to a little room where there was a collegecounsellor [Robin: Removed the second "L" so it won't immediately be apparent that you're from the UK.], and a child protection officer, and my course team leader (program coordinator). (please refer to bottom where it will be explained)and another person, tThey told me social services were was going to be involved, regardless of whether or not I wanted them to be involved. or not - sSomeone had told them about my dad. - panic went through me - wI began to panic. Was he going to get arrested? , wWhat was going to happen to my family.? A social worker came out to see met with me at college the next day and again I was shut in a room with some people and was forced to talk. They closed the case. I learned to not trust social services. [Robin: I understand that this is your story, and I don't want to invalidate your feelings or experience with social services; however, I'm wary of sending the message that social services won't help teens with alcoholic parents. Would you be willing to make a statement that suggests social services tried to help, but for (reason), they had to close the case? Or at least a statement that suggests social services can be helpful in some cases, but unfortunately, they weren't in your case?]

I was left to muddle on through deal with the situation on my own, and I transferred to a different college., I moved colleges after. It was at this college that my tutor [Robin: Is this the same tutor you mentioned earlier? If so, then we should probably remove the earlier statement about the tutor, and this might confuse our readers.] first saw the cuts on my arms, pointed at them and asked, me about them - pointing to them and saying w"What are those on your arms?", sShe asked me this in front of the whole class,. I pulled my sleeves down and told her it was nothing, when I had actually self-harmed really the night before I had used a safety pin to cut myself with.It was like I was smiling on the outside, but on the inside, I was screaming out for someone to help me and notice me and offer me some sort of way out. No one whom I saw on a daily basis at college etc did this.

I began to look for help myself on my own and found a few places resources. mMost of these were websites, and some were more helpful than others. - some websites were less helpful than others - there's two websites I use on a regular basis.
I grew to old for child-line (Kids Help Phone).
I now use another help-line this helpline along with the websites have become a safe place for me, somewhere where I can talk about things and be understood. [Robin: We can't talk about TeenHelp's competitors (which are essentially any websites that offer services similar to TeenHelp's - forums, chat room, support chat line, articles, etc.), even if they have been helpful for you. I think it might be best to leave this part out, shorten it, OR use it as an opportunity to promote TeenHelp (I'm always a fan of doing that!).]

Talking hasn't solved "fixed" or "cured" my dad, and it has not helped him stop drinking - but I do now know that I cannot stop my dad from drinking andthat is something he has to do it for himself. I still look after my dad and wake him up off the sofa on a weekly basis. Talking might not stop him from drinking, but talking about it really does help me cope with what I'm dealing with in healthier ways. as keeping it inside does not do anyone any good.

[WhisperingSilence]

They are two different tutors.

[PSY]

Okay, thank you for the clarification. In that case, feel free to go ahead and apply the edits. Once that's done, we'll have a better idea of what else needs to be added to your article/story.

[WhisperingSilence]

Okie doke, will do so friday maybe saturday as have a busy day tomorrow

[WhisperingSilence]

Life with an alcoholic parent.
Annonymous

Since about the age of eight years old I have watched my dad get intoxicated nearly every night. He would have 20 ounces ( a pint) in the evenings whilst playing a game with us, and that would be the norm for a Sunday night while Mom cooked dinner. It never really bothered me all that much when I was younger as alcohol has always been in this house and always will be. During the day he is sober, holding down a job, works nine to six. He's not the 'stereotypical alcoholic', but he is still an alcoholic.

I can remember when his drinking would get out of control, it still does. I have always felt very different from my friends, at times I have felt alone and isolated. Monday mornings in school would always start with that question 'What did you do at the weekend'. Many people would say they spent time with their dad's and with their families or that they had been somewhere nice with their dad or their family. When it got to me what could I say ? 'Dad just drank' ? No. Talking about Dad and his drinking isn't something we were allowed to do and honestly we are still not allowed to do so. Talking about it will only bring shame on the family so we don't talk about it.

(I've added some bits so I thought I'd post this bit first then go from there the bits I've added can be removed if need be its the bits like the pint in brackets etc)

[PSY]

Hey, Lydia! =) It might be easier to apply the edits previous team members/editors have made first (so there's no color font at all), then clearly mark your additions afterward (in green font, not brackets). That way, it will be easier to keep track of what has changed, and we won't have to worry as much about whether things are grammatically correct, flowing well, etc.

[WhisperingSilence]

Ah okay I'll do that.

[Adam the Fish]

Just to add to that, you should find this thread helpful - it contains all of the editing etiquette (towards the bottom).

[WhisperingSilence]

Brought up by alcohol
By Anonymous

Since about the age of eight years old I have watched my dad drink.
He would have a can of beer whilst playing game with us and that would be the norm for a Sunday night. While Mom cooked dinner. It never really bothered me that much when I was younger as alcohol has always been in this house and always will be. During the day he is sober holding down a job nine to six in a office, he's not the stereotypical alcoholic but he's still an alcoholic.
I can remember when his drinking would get out of control and it still does. I have always felt different from my friends - In school on Monday mornings it would always start with sharing about what we did over the weekend. Many people would say that they spent time with their dad or that their dad took them somewhere. When it got to me what could I say ? 'Dad just drank'? No. Talking about Dad and his drinking is not something we were allowed to , we still do not talk about dad and his drinking.

It wasn't until my bed times became later that I really began to notice how much my dad drinks. A can or two of beer per night was all I saw up to about the age of 10 maybe 11. It was about this age I began to notice my dad passing out on the sofa. Inviting friends round to my house became problematic because the later they stayed the more chance I had of them seeing dad drunk. To keep this from happening I would make sure my friends were gone by the early evening. I was going to school tired and exhausted from waiting for my dad to either pass out or to go to bed and from trying to wake him up if he did pass out on the sofa. I was starting to get angry in school, not just because of what was going on at home , but also because I was getting bullied at school. Where ever I went, I was dealing with name calling and abuse. It was like there was no escape from it at all. I was labelled as naughty and badly behaved. Threatened with suspension and isolation, and was put on report, I began to bunk (skip class)

If I did attend lessons, people would irritate me and I would become angry. No one ever asked if I was okay and just assumed ''that was how I was''. The reality was that I was trying to juggle schoolwork, dad's drinking , the abuse and arguments and avoid getting into trouble at school. Yet I could not tell anyone what was happening,I didn't have the words to say nor could I find them, I also felt like telling them what was going on at home would destroy the family. So I kept quiet. I still do feel like telling would destroy the family. I would be falling asleep in classes, I'd get angry, yet most of the time I'd act like everything was fine.

[WhisperingSilence]

Brought up by alcohol
By Anonymous

Since about the age of eight years old I have watched my dad drink.
He would have a can of beer whilst playing game with us and that would be the norm for a Sunday night. While Mom cooked dinner. It never really bothered me that much when I was younger as alcohol has always been in this house and always will be. During the day he is sober holding down a job nine to six in a office, he's not the stereotypical alcoholic but he's still an alcoholic.
I can remember when his drinking would get out of control and it still does. I have always felt different from my friends - In school on Monday mornings it would always start with sharing about what we did over the weekend. Many people would say that they spent time with their dad or that their dad took them somewhere. When it got to me what could I say ? 'Dad just drank'? No. Talking about Dad and his drinking is not something we were allowed to , we still do not talk about dad and his drinking.

It wasn't until my bed times became later that I really began to notice how much my dad drinks. A can or two of beer per night was all I saw up to about the age of 10 maybe 11. It was about this age I began to notice my dad passing out on the sofa. Inviting friends round to my house became problematic because the later they stayed the more chance I had of them seeing dad drunk. To keep this from happening I would make sure my friends were gone by the early evening. I was going to school tired and exhausted from waiting for my dad to either pass out or to go to bed and from trying to wake him up if he did pass out on the sofa. I was starting to get angry in school, not just because of what was going on at home , but also because I was getting bullied at school. Where ever I went, I was dealing with name calling and abuse. It was like there was no escape from it at all. I was labelled as naughty and badly behaved. Threatened with suspension and isolation, and was put on report, I began to bunk (skip class)

If I did attend lessons, people would irritate me and I would become angry. No one ever asked if I was okay and just assumed ''that was how I was''. The reality was that I was trying to juggle schoolwork, dad's drinking , the abuse and arguments and avoid getting into trouble at school. Yet I could not tell anyone what was happening,I didn't have the words to say nor could I find them, I also felt like telling them what was going on at home would destroy the family. So I kept quiet. I still do feel like telling would destroy the family. I would be falling asleep in classes, I'd get angry, yet most of the time I'd act like everything was fine.

My attendance fell from 100% percent to 50% it continued to fall and the attendance percentages got lower and lower. This was then attributed to be being a trouble maker and not being bothered about my education, as time went on I missed deadlines and didn't bother with homework, if I did to my homework it would be sloppy and rushed sometimes done on the bus or train while on the way to school. There were times when I used to get excellent grades, but overall my grades were slipping. Homework was not something I considered to be important, nor did I have the time to do. I would come home from school , run up to my room, and collapse on my bed into a heap and cry - this was not because of just what was going on at home but also because of the pressures of school and the bullying. After a while I would calm down and tidy my room and watch some T.V. Have dinner, by then dad was home from work and my time was taken up from having to deal with dad, arguments were every night sometimes we would have up to four arguments a night. If it was a ''good night'' we would have one or two arguments a night.

[Storyteller.]

Hey! Sorry I haven't replied to this until now. I know you were worried about anonymity, so how do you think the article is going in terms of that? Are you reasonably satisfied with it? If you publish this anonymously, only people who have access to this thread will be able to tell who wrote it, since I'll be the one publishing it. Like Robin has said, the chances of anyone reading the article and connecting it to you are very small, so that shouldn't be an issue. Is there anything else you want to add/remove/change?

[WhisperingSilence]

Brought up by alcohol
By Anonymous

Since about the age of eight years old I have watched my dad drink.
He would have a can of beer whilst playing game with us and that would be the norm for a Sunday night. While Mom cooked dinner. It never really bothered me that much when I was younger as alcohol has always been in this house and always will be. During the day he is sober holding down a job nine to six in a office, he's not the stereotypical alcoholic but he's still an alcoholic.
I can remember when his drinking would get out of control and it still does. I have always felt different from my friends - In school on Monday mornings it would always start with sharing about what we did over the weekend. Many people would say that they spent time with their dad or that their dad took them somewhere. When it got to me what could I say ? 'Dad just drank'? No. Talking about Dad and his drinking is not something we were allowed to , we still do not talk about dad and his drinking.

It wasn't until my bed times became later that I really began to notice how much my dad drinks. A can or two of beer per night was all I saw up to about the age of 10 maybe 11. It was about this age I began to notice my dad passing out on the sofa. Inviting friends round to my house became problematic because the later they stayed the more chance I had of them seeing dad drunk. To keep this from happening I would make sure my friends were gone by the early evening. I was going to school tired and exhausted from waiting for my dad to either pass out or to go to bed and from trying to wake him up if he did pass out on the sofa. I was starting to get angry in school, not just because of what was going on at home , but also because I was getting bullied at school. Where ever I went, I was dealing with name calling and abuse. It was like there was no escape from it at all. I was labelled as naughty and badly behaved. Threatened with suspension and isolation, and was put on report, I began to bunk (skip class)

If I did attend lessons, people would irritate me and I would become angry. No one ever asked if I was okay and just assumed ''that was how I was''. The reality was that I was trying to juggle schoolwork, dad's drinking , the abuse and arguments and avoid getting into trouble at school. Yet I could not tell anyone what was happening,I didn't have the words to say nor could I find them, I also felt like telling them what was going on at home would destroy the family. So I kept quiet. I still do feel like telling would destroy the family. I would be falling asleep in classes, I'd get angry, yet most of the time I'd act like everything was fine.

My attendance fell from 100% percent to 50% it continued to fall and the attendance percentages got lower and lower. This was then attributed to be being a trouble maker and not being bothered about my education, as time went on I missed deadlines and didn't bother with homework, if I did to my homework it would be sloppy and rushed sometimes done on the bus or train while on the way to school. There were times when I used to get excellent grades, but overall my grades were slipping. Homework was not something I considered to be important, nor did I have the time to do. I would come home from school , run up to my room, and collapse on my bed into a heap and cry - this was not because of just what was going on at home but also because of the pressures of school and the bullying. After a while I would calm down and tidy my room and watch some T.V. Have dinner, by then dad was home from work and my time was taken up from having to deal with dad, arguments were every night sometimes we would have up to four arguments a night. If it was a ''good night'' we would have one or two arguments a night. On a ''good night'' I would manage to get some homework done before having to deal with my dad whilst he was passed out the sofa and making sure he was okay the following morning.

I managed to get into college only just scraping by with the bare minimum grades I needed for my course but college proved to be just as hard. Though my attendance did seem to improve - I would still arrive late for class. I was becoming more and more angry, it got to the point where even the smallest thing would set me off. If someone said something I did not like I would rise from my seat and start shouting, or I would just shut down and stop talking. My tutor noticed and asked me what was going on. I said nothing at the time, but I had a few friends and one of my friends did know about my dad, this friend became my rock through out college, they would call me most nights to make sure I was okay and that my dad was not getting violent or abusive, they offered me a place at their house for if I ever needed a place to stay, they gave me a card with emergency phone numbers on it for housing and places that could help me, they spoke to the police for me on my behalf to just get advice. I don't think I would have made it through the first year of college without that friend. This friend also encouraged me to call a helpline. The helpline became a safe place for me where I began to talk to them about my dad, the bullying and the self harming - which by now I was self harming several times a day.
There would be times where I would cry my eyes out or cry myself to sleep.


(I've added in a couple of words)

[Adam the Fish]

Thanks for making updates, Lydia. I've made quite a few edits, so please look through those when you're able to. Also, please don't be discouraged by the fact that it's quite colourful; as ever, these are suggestions, so you don't have to agree with me.

Brought up by alcohol
Anonymous

Since about the age of eight years old I have watched my dad drink. HWhile Mom cooked dinner, he would have a can of beer whilstand playing a game with us and that would be the norm for a Sunday night. While Mom cooked dinner. It never really bothered me that much when I was younger as alcohol has always been in thisthe house and always will be. During the day he is sober, holding down a job from nine to[Adam: Consider "till"?] six in an office,; he's not the stereotypical alcoholic but he's still an alcoholic.
I can remember when his drinking would get out of control and it still does. I have always felt different from my friends - Iin school on Monday mornings itwe would always start with sharing about what we did overduring the weekend. Many people would say that they had spent time with their dad or that their dad took themfathers, perhaps being taken out somewhere. When it got to me what could I say? 'Dad just drank'? No. Talking about Dad[Adam: Consider a lowercase or uppercase 'd' throughout - you can ask the Articles Project Officer, whether that's Chess or Haley, for a preference if you like.] and his drinking is not something we were allowed to do, wWe still do notdon't talk about dad and his drinking.

It wasn't until my bed times became later that I really began to notice how much my dad drinksdrank. A can or two of beer per night was all I saw up to about the age of 10 maybe 11until the ages or ten or eleven. It was aboutaround this agetime I began to notice my dad passing out on the sofa. Inviting friends round to my house became problematic because the later they stayed, the moregreater the chance I hadthere was of them seeing dad drunk. To keep this from happening I would make sure myany friends were gone by the early evening.[Adam: Could this be cut? It seems a bit vague and unnecessary.] I was going to school tired and exhausted[Adam: Tautological. Choose one.] from waiting for my dad to either pass out or to go to bed and fromthen trying to wake him up if he did pass out on the sofa. I was starting to get angry in school, not just because of what was going on at home, but also because I was getting bullied at schoolexperiencing bullying. Where everWherever I went, I was dealing with name calling and abuse. It was like there was no escape from it at all. I was labelled as naughty and badly behaved. [Adam: This also seems quite vague. "Naughty" and "badly behaved" are again tautological.]Threatened with suspension and isolation, andI was put on report, I began to bunk (skip class).[Adam: Rephrase this final sentence further?]

[Adam: I do think this needs to be paragraphed, but I don't understand why there would be anything more than a single linebreak here.]If I did attend lessons, people would irritate me and I would become angry[Adam: This seems to be repeating what you've previously said.]. No oneNobody ever asked ifhow I was okay; they and just assumed ''that was how I was''. The reality was that I was trying to juggle schoolwork, dad's drinking, the abuse and arguments and avoid getting into trouble at school. Yet I could not tell anyone what was happening,. I didn't have the words to say nor could I find them,.[Adam: This also seems tautological.] I also felt like telling them what was going on at home would destroy the family[Adam: Why?]. S, so I kept quiet. I still do feel like telling would destroy the family. I would bewas falling asleep in classes, I'd get angry[Adam: Repetition.], yet most of the time I'd act like everything was fine.

My attendance fell from 100%one hundred percent to 50%fifty percent[Adam: Was 50% a specific milestone? I'm not quite sure why it would need to be included otherwise.] then it continued to fall and the attendance percentages got lower and lower[Adam: Tautological.]. This was then attributed to be being a trouble maker and not being bothered about my education, a. As time went on I missed deadlines and didn't bother with homework[Adam: Also tautological?], i. If I did to my homework it would be sloppy and rushed, sometimes done on the bus or train while on the way to school[Adam: You may wish to clarify whether you did homework or not, as this currently reads as a contradiction (saying you did no homework then saying you did some homework).]. There were times when I used to get excellent grades, but overall my grades were slipping. Homework was not something I considered to be important, nor did I have the time to do. I would come home from school, run up to my room, and collapse on my bed into a heap and cry - this was not just because of just what was going on at home but also because of the pressures of school and the bullying. After a while I would calm down and, tidy my room and watch some T.Vtelevision. Have dinner, by then dDad was home from work by the time I was having dinner and my time was taken up from having to deal with dad,; arguments were every night. sSometimes we[Adam: Who?] would have up to four arguments a night. If it wasEven a ''good night'' we would haveentail one or two arguments a night. On a ''such good nights'' I would manage to get some homework done before having to deal with my dad whilstonce he washad passed out the sofa and making sure he was okay the following morning[Adam: You could put this separately, but it's not related to this sentence.].

I only just managed to get into college, only just scraping by with the bare minimum grades I needed for my course: but college proved to be just as hard. Though my attendance did seem to improve -, I would still arrive late for class. I was becoming more and more angry,and it got to the point where even the smallest thing would set me off[Adam: This seems especially colloquial, consider rephrasing it.]. If someone said something I did not like I would rise from my seat and start shouting, or I would just shut down and stop talking. [Adam: Could this sentence be dropped? I don't know that the explanation is necessary.]My tutor noticed and asked me what was going on. I said nothing at the time, but I had a few friends and one of my friends did know about my dad, tThis friend became my rock through outthroughout college,: they would call me most nights to make sure I was okay and that my dad was not getting violent or abusive,; they offered me a place at their house for if I ever needed a place to stay,; they gave me a card with emergency phone numbers on it for housing and places that could help me,; they spoke to the police for me on my behalf to just get advice. I don't think I would have made it through the first year of college without that friend. This friend also encouraged me to call a helpline. The helpline became a safe place for me where I began to talk to them about my dad, the bullying and the self harming - which by now I was self harming several times a day.
There would be times where I would cry my eyes out or cry myself to sleep.

[Adam: This seems a rough finish, so please work on getting this completed when you can. If it would be possible to perhaps use the story as an opportunity to give advice to others who might be in similar situations to your own, I think that would be good.]

[WhisperingSilence]

Brought up by alcohol
By Anonymous

Since about the age of eight years old I have watched my dad drink.
He would have a can of beer whilst playing game with us and that would be the norm for a Sunday night. While Mom cooked dinner. It never really bothered me that much when I was younger as alcohol has always been in this house and always will be. During the day he is sober holding down a job nine to six in a office, he's not the stereotypical alcoholic but he's still an alcoholic.
I can remember when his drinking would get out of control and it still does. I have always felt different from my friends - In school on Monday mornings it would always start with sharing about what we did over the weekend. Many people would say that they spent time with their dad or that their dad took them somewhere. When it got to me what could I say ? 'Dad just drank'? No. Talking about Dad and his drinking is not something we were allowed to , we still do not talk about dad and his drinking.

It wasn't until my bed times became later that I really began to notice how much my dad drinks. A can or two of beer per night was all I saw up to about the age of 10 maybe 11. It was about this age I began to notice my dad passing out on the sofa. Inviting friends round to my house became problematic because the later they stayed the more chance I had of them seeing dad drunk. To keep this from happening I would make sure my friends were gone by the early evening. I was going to school tired and exhausted from waiting for my dad to either pass out or to go to bed and from trying to wake him up if he did pass out on the sofa. I was starting to get angry in school, not just because of what was going on at home , but also because I was getting bullied at school. Where ever I went, I was dealing with name calling and abuse. It was like there was no escape from it at all. I was labelled as naughty and badly behaved. Threatened with suspension and isolation, and was put on report, I began to bunk (skip class)

If I did attend lessons, people would irritate me and I would become angry. No one ever asked if I was okay and just assumed ''that was how I was''. The reality was that I was trying to juggle schoolwork, dad's drinking , the abuse and arguments and avoid getting into trouble at school. Yet I could not tell anyone what was happening,I didn't have the words to say nor could I find them, I also felt like telling them what was going on at home would destroy the family. So I kept quiet. I still do feel like telling would destroy the family. I would be falling asleep in classes, I'd get angry, yet most of the time I'd act like everything was fine.

My attendance fell from 100% percent to 50% it continued to fall and the attendance percentages got lower and lower. This was then attributed to be being a trouble maker and not being bothered about my education, as time went on I missed deadlines and didn't bother with homework, if I did to my homework it would be sloppy and rushed sometimes done on the bus or train while on the way to school. There were times when I used to get excellent grades, but overall my grades were slipping. Homework was not something I considered to be important, nor did I have the time to do. I would come home from school , run up to my room, and collapse on my bed into a heap and cry - this was not because of just what was going on at home but also because of the pressures of school and the bullying. After a while I would calm down and tidy my room and watch some T.V. Have dinner, by then dad was home from work and my time was taken up from having to deal with dad, arguments were every night sometimes we would have up to four arguments a night. If it was a ''good night'' we would have one or two arguments a night. On a ''good night'' I would manage to get some homework done before having to deal with my dad whilst he was passed out the sofa and making sure he was okay the following morning.

I managed to get into college only just scraping by with the bare minimum grades I needed for my course but college proved to be just as hard. Though my attendance did seem to improve - I would still arrive late for class. I was becoming more and more angry, it got to the point where even the smallest thing would set me off. If someone said something I did not like I would rise from my seat and start shouting, or I would just shut down and stop talking. My tutor noticed and asked me what was going on. I said nothing at the time, but I had a few friends and one of my friends did know about my dad, this friend became my rock through out college, they would call me most nights to make sure I was okay and that my dad was not getting violent or abusive, they offered me a place at their house for if I ever needed a place to stay, they gave me a card with emergency phone numbers on it for housing and places that could help me, they spoke to the police for me on my behalf to just get advice. I don't think I would have made it through the first year of college without that friend. This friend also encouraged me to call a helpline. The helpline became a safe place for me where I began to talk to them about my dad, the bullying and the self harming - which by now I was self harming several times a day.
There would be times where I would cry my eyes out or cry myself to sleep.

College was also the first time that I had social services involved. I was taken into a little room where there was a college counselor, a child protection officer and the person in charge of my course. They told me social services was going to be involved regardless of whether I wanted them involved or not. Someone had told them about my dad - I began to panic. Was my dad going to get arrested ? What was going to happen to my family ? A social worker came out to see me and my family. And met with me at college the next day. Because I was not willing to tell social services everything and to be completely honest with them and held back a-lot of information this meant they closed the case.

I was left to cope and deal with the situation by myself . I moved colleges. At my second college my tutor saw the cuts on my arms and asked me about them. I told her they were nothing and pulled my sleeves down not wanting to talk about it. The truth is it was not just nothing - I had self harmed the night before as way to cope with the events from the night before (Dad had been drunk and in a rage had rammed a chair into my leg crushing it into the side of the worktop).
I was smiling on the outside but crying and screaming out for help on the inside and was wishing for someone to notice the pain I was feeling and to offer me a way out of the situation I was in. No one in my life who I saw on a daily basis noticed or did anything to help. I felt helpless.

I began to look for help on my own. I found a few websites. Some were more helpful than others. How ever some of the places I found have helped and supported me. Teen-Help is now one of my main sources of help and support - I know with Teen-help there's always someone I can talk to or just logging into the chat room can help.

I'm still in the same situation - my dad still drinks. Talking has not solved or fixed the problem and has not changed my situation , although talking about it with the places I have found and use has helped me to understand that I am not the one responsible for my dad's drinking and that if my dad is to stop drinking nothing I try or do will make him stop - it's something he has to want and do for himself. I still care for and look after my dad on a regular basis. Talking wont stop my dad drinking how ever talking about it with people I have learned to trust and feel safe with does help me cope with my dad and deal with my situation. Talking is also helping me to deal with things in healthier ways. I'm still self harming but its not every day. I have also learned that my dad's drinking is not my fault though I still find it hard incredibly hard to not blame myself for my dad's drinking.

[coolkid98]

Here are my edits for you article Lydia, thank you for editing it. If you need any help with it, let me know and I'll give you a hand.

Brought up by alcohol
By Anonymous

Since about the age of eight years old I have watched my dad drink. While Mom cooked dinner Hhe would have a can of beer whilst playing game with us and that would be the norm for a Sunday night. While Mom cooked dinner. It never really bothered me that much when I was younger as alcohol has always been in thise house and always will be. During the day he is sober, whist holding down a job nine to six in a office, he's not the stereotypical alcoholic but he's still an alcoholic.
I can remember when his drinking would get out of control and it still does. I have always felt different from my friends - In school on Monday mornings it would always start with sharing about what we did over the weekend. Many people would say that they spent time with their dad or that their dad took them somewhere. When it got to me what could I say? 'Dad just drank'? No. Talking about Dad and his drinking is not something we were allowed to, we still do not talk about dad and his drinking.

It wasn't until my bed times became later that I really began to notice how much my dad drinks. A can or two of beer per night was all I saw up to about the age of 10 maybe 11. It was about this age I began to notice my dad passing out on the sofa. Inviting friends round to my house became problematic because the later they stayed the more chance I had of them seeing dad drunk. To keep this from happening I would make sure my friends were gone by the early evening. I was going to school tired and exhausted from waiting for my dad to either pass out or to go to bed and from trying to wake him up if he did pass out on the sofa. I was starting to get angry in school, not just because of what was going on at home, but also because I was getting bullied at school. Where everWherever I went, I was dealing with name calling and abuse. It was like there was no escape from it at all. I was labelled as naughty and badly behaved. Threatened with suspension and isolation, and I was put on report, I began to bunk (skip class).

If I did attend lessons, people would irritate me and I would then become angry. No one ever asked if I was okay and just assumed ''that was how I was''. The reality was that I was trying to juggle schoolwork, dad's drinking , the abuse and arguments and avoiding from getting into trouble at school. Yet I could not tell anyone what was happening, I didn't have the words to say nor could I find them, I also felt like telling them what was going on at home would destroy the family. So I kept quiet. I still do feel like telling would destroy the family. I would be falling asleep in classes, I'd get angry, yet most of the time I'd act like everything was fine.

My attendance fell from 100% percent to 50% it continued to fall and the attendance percentages got lower and lower. This was then attributed to be being a trouble maker and not being bothered about my education, as time went on I missed deadlines and didn't bother with homework, if I did go to do my homework it would be sloppy and rushed, sometimes done on the bus or train while on the way to school. There were times when I used to get excellent grades, but overall my grades were slipping. Homework was not something I considered to be important, nor did I have the time to do. I would come home from school, run up to my room, and collapse on my bed into a heap and cry - this was not because of just what was going on at home but also because of the pressures of school and the bullying. After a while I would calm down and tidy my room and watch some T.V, Hhave dinner, by then dad was home from work and my time was taken up from having to deal with dad, arguments were occurring every night sometimes we would have up to four arguments a night. If it was a ''good night'' we would have one or two arguments a night. On a ''good night'' I would manage to get some homework done before having to deal with my dad whilst he was passed out the sofa and making sure he was okay the following morning.

I managed to get into college only just scraping by with the bare minimum grades I needed for my course but college proved to be just as hard. Though my attendance did seem to improve - I would still arrive late for class. I was becoming more and more angry, it got to the point where even the smallest thing would set me off. If someone said something I did not like I would rise from my seat and start shouting, or I would just shut down and stop talking. My tutor noticed and asked me what was going on. I said nothing at the time, but I had a few friends and one of my friends did know about my dad, this friend became my rock through out college, they would call me most nights to make sure I was okay and that my dad was not getting violent or abusive, they offered me a place at their house for if I ever needed a place to stay, they gave me a card with emergency phone numbers on it for housing and places that could help me, they spoke to the police for me on my behalf to just get advice. I don't think I would have made it through the first year of college without that friend. This friend also encouraged me to call a helpline. The helpline became a safe place for me where I began to talk to them about my dad, the bullying and the self harming - which by now I was self harming several times a day.There would be times where I would cry my eyes out or cry myself to sleep.

College was also the first time that I had social services involved. I was taken into a little room where there was a college counselor, a child protection officer and the person in charge of my course. They told me social services was going to be involved regardless of whether I wanted them involved or not. Someone had told them about my dad - I began to panic. Was my dad going to get arrested? What was going to happen to my family? A social worker came out to see me and my family. And met with me at college the next day. Because I was not willing to tell social services everything and to be completely honest with them and held back a-lot of information this meant they closed the case.

I was left to cope and deal with the situation by myself. I moved colleges., Aat my second college my tutor saw the cuts on my arms and asked me about them. I told her they were nothing and pulled my sleeves down not wanting to talk about it. The truth is it was not just nothing - I had self harmed the night before as way to cope with the events from the night before (Dad had been drunk and in a rage had rammed a chair into my leg crushing it into the side of the worktop).
I was smiling on the outside but crying and screaming out for help on the inside and was wishing for someone to notice the pain I was feeling and to offer me a way out of the situation I was in. No one in my life who I saw on a daily basis noticed or did anything to help. I felt helpless.

I began to look for help on my own. I found a few websites. Some were more helpful than others. How everHowever, some of the places I found have helped and supported me. Teen-Help is now one of my main sources of help and support - I know with Teen-hHelp there's always someone I can talk to or just logging into the chat room can help.

I'm still in the same situation - my dad still drinks. Talking has not solved or fixed the problem and has not changed my situation, although talking about it with the places I have found and use has helped me to understand that I am not the one responsible for my dad's drinking and that if my dad is to stop drinking nothing I try or do will make him stop - it's something he has to want and do for himself. I still care for and look after my dad on a regular basis. Talking won't stop my dad drinking how ever talking about it with people I have learned to trust and feel safe with does help me cope with my dad and deal with my situation. Talking is also helping me to deal with things in healthier ways. I'm still self harming but its not every day. I have also learned that my dad's drinking is not my fault though I still find it hard incredibly hard to not blame myself for my dad's drinking.

[hocus pocus]

Here are my edits. Let me know if you need any help!

Brought up by alcohol
By Anonymous

Since about the age of eight years old I have watched my dad drink. While Mom cooked dinner, Hhe would have a can of beer whilst playing games with us and that would be the norm for a Sunday night. While Mom cooked dinner. It never really bothered me that much when I was younger as alcohol has always been in thise house and always will be. During the day he is sober, whist holding down a job from nine to six in a office,. he's not the stereotypical alcoholic but he's still an alcoholic.

I can remember when his drinking would get out of control and it still does. I have always felt different from my friends - Iin school, on Monday mornings it would always start with sharing about what we did over the weekend. Many people would say that they spent time with their dad or that their dad took them somewhere. When it got to me was my turn to speak, what could I say? 'Dad just drank'? No. Talking about Dad and his drinking is not something we were allowed to, We weren't allowed to discuss dad and his drinking; we still do not talk about it. dad and his drinking.

It wasn't until my bed times became later that I really began to notice how much my dad drinks drank. A can or two of beer per night was all I saw up to about the age of 10 maybe or 11. It was about Around this age I began to notice my dad passing out on the sofa. Inviting friends round to my house became problematic because the later they stayed, the more chance I had of them seeing dad drunk chances of them seeing my dad drunk increased. To keep this from happening I would make sure my friends were gone by the early evening. I was going to school tired and exhausted from waiting for my dad to either pass out or to go to bed, or and from trying to wake him up if he did pass out on the sofa. I was starting to get angry in school, not just because of what was going on at home, but also because I was getting being bullied. at school. Where ever I went, I was dealing with name calling and abuse. I dealt with name calling and abuse wherever I went. It was like there was no escape from it at all. I was labelled as naughty and badly behaved. I was tThreatened with suspension and isolation, and when I was put on report, I began to bunk skip class.

If I did attend lessons, people would irritate me and I would then become angry. No one ever asked if I was okay and it was just assumed ''that it was how I was''. The reality was that I was trying to juggle schoolwork, dad's drinking, the abuse, and arguments all the while trying to avoid avoiding from getting into trouble at school. Yet I could not tell anyone what was happening,; I didn't have the words to say nor could I find them,. I also felt like telling them someone what was going on at home would destroy the family, and I still feel the same way.[Adam: Why?]So I kept quiet. I still do feel like telling would destroy the family. So I remain silent. I would be falling fell asleep in classes, I'd get angry struggled with anger, yet most of the time I'd act I acted like everything was fine.

My attendance fell from 100% percent to 50% and it continued to fall. and the attendance percentages got lower and lower. This was then attributed to be being a trouble maker and not being bothered about my education,. aAs time went on I missed deadlines and didn't bother with homework. However, if I did go to do my homework it would be sloppy and rushed, sometimes done on the bus or train while on the way to school. There were times when I used to get excellent grades, but overall my grades were slipping. Homework was not something I considered to be important, nor did I have the time to do. I no longer considered homework to be important like I once did. I would come home from school, run up to my room, and collapse on my bed into a heap and cry - this was not because of just what was going on at home but also because of the pressures of school and the bullying. due to the pressure of what I had to deal with. After a while I would calm down, tidy my room, and watch some T.V, and Hhave dinner. bBy then dad was home from work and my time was taken up from having to dealing with dad, him. aArguments were occurring every night; sometimes we would have up to four arguments a night. If it was a ''good night'' we would have one or two arguments a night. On a ''good night'', I would manage to get some homework done before having to deal with my dad whilst he was passed out the sofa and making sure he was okay the following morning. [Cassie: I think this could be rephrased, but I can't think of anything at the moment.]

I managed to get into through college only just scraping by with the bare minimum grades I needed for my course. but cCollege proved to be just as hard. [Cassie: College proved to be just as hard as...?] TAlthough my attendance did seem to improve, - I would still arrive late for class. I was becoming more and more angry, My feelings of anger escalated; getting it got to the point where even the smallest thing would set me off. If someone said something I did not like I would respond by shouting or shutting myself down. rise from my seat and start shouting, or I would just shut down and stop talking. My tutor noticed and asked me what was going on. I said nothing at the time, but I had a few friends and one of my friends did know was aware of about my dad,. tThis friend became my rock throughout college,. tThey would called me most nights to make sure I was okay and that my dad was not getting violent or abusive,;they offered me a place at their house for if I ever needed a place to stay. They gave me a card with emergency phone numbers on it for housing and places that could help me, and they spoke to the police for me on my behalf to just get advice. I don't think I would have made it through the first year of college without that friend. This friend also encouraged me to call a helpline. The helpline became a safe place for me where I began to talk to them about my dad, the bullying and the self harming - which by now I was self harming several times a day. as I was self-harming several times a day at that point. There would be times where I would cry my eyes out or cry myself to sleep.

College was also the first time that I had social services involved. I was taken into a little room where there was a college counselor, a child protection officer and the a person in charge of to lead my course. They told me that social services was going to be involved regardless of whether or not I wanted them to be. involved or not. Someone had told them about my dad - and I began to panic. Was my dad going to get arrested? What was going to happen to my family? A social worker came out to see me and my family. And met with me at college the next day. They also met with me at school the following day. Because I was not willing unwilling to tell social services everything and to be completely honest with them and held back a-lot of information this meant they closed the case.

I was left to cope and deal with the situation by myself. I moved colleges., Aat my second college my tutor saw the cuts on my arms and asked me about them. I told her they were nothing and pulled my sleeves down not wanting to talk about it. I pulled my sleeves down and told her they were nothing; I didn't wish to talk about it. The truth is it was not just nothing - That was far from the truth. I had self harmed the night before as way to cope with being injured by my dad. the events from the night before (Dad had been drunk and in a rage had In a rage, he rammed a chair into my leg, crushing it into the side of the worktop ).

I was smiling on the outside but crying and screaming out for help on the inside. and I was wishing for someone to notice the pain I was feeling and to offer me a way out of the situation I was in. No one in my life who I saw on a daily basis noticed or did anything to help. I felt helpless.

I began to look for help on my own. I found a few websites. Some were more helpful than others, however. Some of the places I found have helped and continue to and supported me. Teen-Help is now one of my main sources of help and support - I know with Teen-hHelp there's always someone I can talk to, especially in the Chat Room. or just logging into the chat room can help.

I'm still in the same situation - my dad still drinks. Talking has not solved or fixed the problem and has not changed my situation, although talking about it with the places I have found and use has helped me to understand that I am not the one responsible for my dad's drinking. and that iIf my dad is to stop drinking, nothing I try or do will make him stop; - it's something he has to want and do for himself. I still care for and look after my dad on a regular basis. Talking won't stop my dad from drinking, however talking about it with people I have learned to trust and feel safe with does help me cope with my dad and deal with my situation. Talking is also helping me to deal with things in healthier ways. I'm still self harming but not as frequently. its not every day. I have also learned that my dad's drinking is not my fault though I still find it hard incredibly hard to not blame myself for my dad's drinking. [Cassie: This was already mentioned above, so I think it can be deleted. Or it can stay here and you can delete it from a few lines above.]

[coolkid98]

How are you doing with this article Lydia? Let me know if you need any help with it.

[WhisperingSilence]

sorry only just seen this as not really been online much or when i have been online its either been late at night or im on for short amount of times.. the colours have confused me alot. i cant do some of the edits - as the abit the college in the room about 3rd from last paragraph this bit ''
College was also the first time that I had social services involved. I was taken into a little room where there was a college counselor, a child protection officer and the a person in charge of to lead my course '' the bit where it says to lead my course.. wouldnt make sense as they were simply in charge of my college course...

also college and school in the UK are two different things.... sorry..

[hocus pocus]

The colors can get confusing sometimes.

Red means that someone has suggested removing something, and green is an addition to what you have written. Blue are notes written by people suggesting edits, and orange means we might need an explanation or we don't understand what you are trying to say.

If these edits are confusing, I can add them for you if you'd like. Then you can read through the article and tell me what you think. From there you can tell me what you think needs to be changed.

Just remember that this is your article, and the edits you choose to apply are completely up to you.

[WhisperingSilence]

Brought up by alcohol
by annonymous.

Since about the age of 8 - possibly earlier but 8 is where I became more aware of it. I have watched my dad drink. He would drink while Mom cooked dinner, while playing games with us it was the norm. It never really bothered me to much when I was younger as alcohol has always been in the house and always will be. During the day he is 'sober' whilst holding down a 9-6 job in a busy office, he's not the stereotypical alcoholic but he's still an alcoholic.
I can remember when his drinking would get out of control and it still does. I have always felt different from my friends - In school on Monday mornings it would always start with sharing about what we did over the weekend. Many people would say that they spent time with their dad or that their dad took them somewhere. When it got to me what could I say? 'Dad just drank'? No. Talking about Dad and his drinking is not something we were allowed to, we still do not talk about dad and his drinking.

It wasn't until my bed times became later that I really began to notice how much my dad drinks. A can or two of beer per night was all I saw up to about the age of 10 maybe 11. It was about this age I began to notice my dad passing out on the sofa. Inviting friends round to my house became problematic because the later they stayed the more chance I had of them seeing dad drunk. To keep this from happening I would make sure my friends were gone by the early evening. I was going to school tired and exhausted from waiting for my dad to either pass out or to go to bed and from trying to wake him up if he did pass out on the sofa. I was starting to get angry in school, not just because of what was going on at home, but also because I was getting bullied at school.


(I'll add more over the weekend but I've been applying edits in micrsoft word while mum and dad are in australia.)

[MsNobleEleanor]

I have a few edits. Not sure if you are adding the other edits that Cassie had done.

Brought up by alcohol
by annonymous.

Since about the age of 8 - possibly earlier but 8 is where I became more aware of it. I have watched my dad drink. He would drink while Mmom cooked dinner, while playing games with us it was the norm. It never really bothered me to much when I was younger as alcohol has always been in the house and always will be. During the day he is 'sober' whilst holding down a 9-6 job in a busy office, he's not the stereotypical alcoholic but he's still an alcoholic.
I can remember when his drinking would get out of control and it still does. I have always felt different from my friends - In school on Monday mornings it would always start with sharing about what we did over the weekend. Many people would say that they spent time with their dad or that their dad took them somewhere. When it got to me what could I say? 'Ddad just drank'? No. Talking about Ddad and his drinking is not something we were allowed to, we still do not talk about dad and his drinking.

It wasn't until my bed times became later that I really began to notice how much my dad drinks. A can or two of beer per night was all I saw up to about the age of 10 maybe 11. It was about this age I began to notice my dad passing out on the sofa. Inviting friends round to my house became problematic because the later they stayed the more chance I had of them seeing dad drunk. To keep this from happening I would make sure my friends were gone by the early evening. I was going to school tired and exhausted from waiting for my dad to either pass out or to go to bed and from trying to wake him up if he did pass out on the sofa. I was starting to get angry in school, not just because of what was going on at home, but also because I was getting bullied at school.

[hocus pocus]

This copy of the article is from a few posts up, before more edits were suggested. It has been a while since they were suggested, so I figured I could look through it with some fresh eyes. If you accept these edits, I can apply them for you.

Brought up by alcohol
By Anonymous

Since about the age of eight years old I have watched my dad drink. He would have a can of beer whilst playing game with us while my mm cooked dinner, and that would be the norm for a Sunday night. While Mom cooked dinner. It never really bothered me that much when I was younger as alcohol has always been in this house and always will be. During the day he is sober, holding down a job from nine to six in a office., Hhe's not the stereotypical alcoholic but he's still an alcoholic.

I can remember when his drinking would get out of control and it still does. I have always felt different from my friends - Iin school on Monday mornings it would always start with sharing about what we did over the weekend. Many people would say that they spent time with their dad or that their dad took them somewhere. When it got to me what could I say? '"Dad just drank'?" No. Talking about Dad and his drinking is not something we were allowed to do, and we still do not talk about dad and his drinking.

It wasn't until I was in my bed times became later that I really began to notice how much my dad drinks. A can or two of beer per night was all I saw up to about the age of 10 maybe 11. [Cassie: I think these should say "ten" and "eleven" to stay consistent with the "eight" in the beginning.] It was about this age I began to notice my dad passing out on the sofa. Inviting friends round to my house became problematic because the later they stayed, the more chance I had of them seeing dad drunk. To keep this from happening I would make sure my friends were gone by the early evening. I was going to school tired and exhausted from waiting for my dad to either pass out or to go to bed and from trying to wake him up if he did pass out on the sofa. I was starting to get angry in school, not just because of what was going on at home, but also because I was getting bullied at school. Wherever I went, I was dealing with name calling and abuse. It was like there was no escape from it at all. I was labelled as naughty and badly behaved. I was Tthreatened with suspension and isolation, and was put on report,. I began to bunk (skip class).

If I did attend lessons, people would irritate me and I would become angry. No one ever asked if I was okay and just assumed ''that was how I was.''. The reality was that I was trying to juggle schoolwork, dad's drinking, the abuse, and arguments and trying to avoid getting into trouble at school. Yet I could not tell anyone what was happening;,I didn't have the words to say nor could I find them., I also felt like telling them what was going on at home would destroy the family. So I kept quiet. I still do feel like telling would destroy the family. I would be falling asleep in classes, I'd get angry, yet most of the time I'd act like everything was fine.

My attendance fell from 100% percent to 50%, and it continued to fall and until the attendance percentages got lower and lower. This was then attributed to be being a trouble maker and not being bothered about my education., Aas time went on, I missed deadlines and didn't bother with homework., iIf I did to my homework it would be sloppy and rushed, sometimes done on the bus or train while on the way to school. There were times when I used to get excellent grades, but overall my grades were slipping. Homework was not something I considered to be important, nor did I have the time to do. I would come home from school, run up to my room, and collapse on my bed into a heap and cry - this was not because of just what was going on at home but also because of the pressures of school and the bullying. After a while I would calm down and tidy my room and watch some T.V. I'd hHave dinner, and by then dad was home from work and my time was taken up from having to deal with dad., Aarguments were every night sometimes we would have up to four arguments a night. If it was a ''good night'' we would have one or two arguments a night. On a ''good night'' I would manage to get some homework done before having to deal with my dad whilst he was passed out the sofa and I would makeing sure he was okay the following morning.

I managed to get into college only just scraping by with the bare minimum grades I needed for my course but college proved to be just as hard. Though my attendance did seem to improve - I would still arrive late for class. I was becoming more and more angry, it got to the point where even the smallest thing would set me off. If someone said something I did not like I would rise from my seat and start shouting, or I would just shut down and stop talking. My tutor noticed and asked me what was going on. I said nothing at the time, but I had a few friends and one of my friends did know about my dad., tThis friend became my rock throughout college, they would call me most nights to make sure I was okay and that my dad was not getting violent or abusive, they offered me a place at their house for if I ever needed a place to stay, they gave me a card with emergency phone numbers on it for housing and places that could help me, they spoke to the police for me on my behalf to just get advice. I don't think I would have made it through the first year of college without that friend. This friend also encouraged me to call a helpline. The helpline became a safe place for me where I began to talk to them about my dad, the bullying and the self harming - which by now I was self harming several times a day. There would be times where I would cry my eyes out or cry myself to sleep.

College was also the first time that I had social services involved. I was taken into a little room where there was a college counselor, a child protection officer and the person in charge of my course. They told me social services was going to be involved regardless of whether I wanted them involved or not. Someone had told them about my dad - I began to panic. Was my dad going to get arrested? What was going to happen to my family? A social worker came out to see me and my family,. Aand met with me at college the next day. Because I was not willing to tell social services everything and to be completely honest with them, and held back a-lot of information this meant they closed the case.

I was left to cope and deal with the situation by myself. I moved colleges. At my second college, my tutor saw the cuts on my arms and asked me about them. I told her they were nothing and pulled my sleeves down, not wanting to talk about it. The truth is it was not just nothing - I had self harmed the night before as way to cope with the events that occurred from the night before (Dad had been drunk and in a rage had rammed a chair into my leg, crushing it into the side of the worktop).

I was smiling on the outside but crying and screaming out for help on the inside and was wishing for someone to notice the pain I was feeling and to offer me a way out of the situation I was in. No one in my life who I saw on a daily basis noticed or did anything to help. I felt helpless.

I began to look for help on my own. I found a few websites. Some were more helpful than others. However, some of the places I found have helped and supported me. Teen-Help is now one of my main sources of help and support - I know with Teen-help there's always someone I can talk to or just logging into the chat room can help.

I'm still in the same situation - my dad still drinks. Talking has not solved or fixed the problem and has not changed my situation, although but talking about it with the places I have found and use has helped me to understand that I am not the one responsible for my dad's drinking and that if my dad is to stop drinking nothing I try or do will make him stop - it's something he has to want and do for himself. I still care for and look after my dad on a regular basis. Talking won't stop my dad's drinking however, talking about it with people I have learned to trust and feel safe with does help me cope with my dad and deal with my situation. Talking is also helping me to deal with things in healthier ways. I'm still self harming but it's not every day. I have also learned that my dad's drinking is not my fault though I still find it hard incredibly hard to not blame myself for it my dad's drinking.

[WhisperingSilence]

I am hapy with those edits

[hocus pocus]

I've applied them for you. I don't have anymore edits, so I'll let Haley look at this.

Brought up by alcohol
By Anonymous

Since about the age of eight years old I have watched my dad drink. He would have a can of beer whilst playing game with us while my mom cooked dinner, and that would be the norm for a Sunday night.It never really bothered me that much when I was younger as alcohol has always been in this house and always will be. During the day he is sober, holding down a job from nine to six in a office. He's not the stereotypical alcoholic but he's still an alcoholic.

I can remember when his drinking would get out of control and it still does. I have always felt different from my friends - in school on Monday mornings it would always start with sharing about what we did over the weekend. Many people would say that they spent time with their dad or that their dad took them somewhere. When it got to me, what could I say? "Dad just drank?" No. Talking about Dad and his drinking is not something we were allowed to do, and we still do not talk about dad and his drinking.

It wasn't until I was in my bed times became later that I really began to notice how much my dad drinks. A can or two of beer per night was all I saw up to about the age of ten maybe eleven. It was about this age I began to notice my dad passing out on the sofa. Inviting friends round to my house became problematic because the later they stayed, the more chance I had of them seeing dad drunk. To keep this from happening I would make sure my friends were gone by the early evening. I was going to school tired and exhausted from waiting for my dad to either pass out or to go to bed and from trying to wake him up if he did pass out on the sofa. I was starting to get angry in school, not just because of what was going on at home, but also because I was getting bullied at school. Wherever I went, I was dealing with name calling and abuse. It was like there was no escape from it at all. I was labelled as naughty and badly behaved. I was threatened with suspension and isolation, and was put on report. I began to bunk (skip class).

If I did attend lessons, people would irritate me and I would become angry. No one ever asked if I was okay and just assumed ''that was how I was.'' The reality was that I was trying to juggle schoolwork, dad's drinking, the abuse,arguments and trying to avoid getting into trouble at school. Yet, I could not tell anyone what was happening; I didn't have the words to say nor could I find them. I also felt like telling them what was going on at home would destroy the family. So I kept quiet. I still do feel like telling would destroy the family. I would fall asleep in classes, I'd get angry, yet most of the time I'd act like everything was fine.

My attendance fell from 100% percent to 50%, and it continued to fall until the attendance percentages got lower and lower. This was then attributed to be being a trouble maker and not being bothered about my education. As time went on, I missed deadlines and didn't bother with homework. If I did to my homework it would be sloppy and rushed, sometimes done on the bus or train while on the way to school. There were times when I used to get excellent grades, but overall my grades were slipping. Homework was not something I considered to be important, nor did I have the time to do. I would come home from school, run up to my room, and collapse on my bed into a heap and cry - this was not because of just what was going on at home but also because of the pressures of school and the bullying. After a while I would calm down and tidy my room and watch some TV. I'd have dinner, and by then dad was home from work and my time was taken up from having to deal with dad. Arguments were every night sometimes we would have up to four arguments a night. If it was a ''good night'' we would have one or two arguments. On a ''good night'' I would manage to get some homework done before having to deal with my dad whilst he was passed out the sofa and I would make sure he was okay the following morning.

I managed to get into college only just scraping by with the bare minimum grades I needed for my course but college proved to be just as hard. Though my attendance did seem to improve - I would still arrive late for class. I was becoming more and more angry, it got to the point where even the smallest thing would set me off. If someone said something I did not like I would rise from my seat and start shouting, or I would just shut down and stop talking. My tutor noticed and asked me what was going on. I said nothing at the time, but I had a few friends and one of my friends did know about my dad. This friend became my rock throughout college, they would call me most nights to make sure I was okay and that my dad was not getting violent or abusive, they offered me a place at their house for if I ever needed a place to stay, they gave me a card with emergency phone numbers on it for housing and places that could help me, they spoke to the police for me on my behalf to just get advice. I don't think I would have made it through the first year of college without that friend. This friend also encouraged me to call a helpline. The helpline became a safe place for me where I began to talk to them about my dad, the bullying and the self harming - which by now I was self harming several times a day. There would be times where I would cry my eyes out or cry myself to sleep.

College was also the first time that I had social services involved. I was taken into a little room where there was a college counselor, a child protection officer and the person in charge of my course. They told me social services was going to be involved regardless of whether I wanted them involved or not. Someone had told them about my dad - I began to panic. Was my dad going to get arrested? What was going to happen to my family? A social worker came out to see me and my family, and met with me at college the next day. Because I was not willing to tell social services everything and to be completely honest with them,they closed the case.

I was left to cope with the situation by myself. I moved colleges. At my second college, my tutor saw the cuts on my arms and asked me about them. I told her they were nothing and pulled my sleeves down, not wanting to talk about it. The truth is it was not just nothing - I had self harmed the night before as way to cope with the events that occurred(Dad had been drunk and in a rage, had rammed a chair into my leg, crushing it into the side of the worktop).

I was smiling on the outside but crying and screaming out for help on the inside and was wishing for someone to notice the pain I was feeling and to offer me a way out of the situation I was in. No one in my life who I saw on a daily basis noticed or did anything to help. I felt helpless.

I began to look for help on my own. I found a few websites. Some were more helpful than others. However, some of the places I found have helped and supported me. TeenHelp is now one of my main sources of help and support - I know with TeenHelp there's always someone I can talk to or just logging into the chat room can help.

I'm still in the same situation - my dad still drinks. Talking has not solved or fixed the problem and has not changed my situation, but talking about it with the places I have found and use has helped me to understand that I am not the one responsible for my dad's drinking and that if my dad is to stop drinking nothing I try or do will make him stop - it's something he has to want and do for himself. I still care for and look after my dad on a regular basis. Talking won't stop my dad's drinking however, talking about it with people I have learned to trust and feel safe with does help me cope with my dad and deal with my situation. Talking is also helping me to deal with things in healthier ways. I'm still self harming but it's not every day. I have also learned that my dad's drinking is not my fault though I still find it hard incredibly hard to not blame myself for it.

[Storyteller.]

I've fixed up some spacing, punctuation, and little issues like that, which I haven't tracked because they're all so minor. I also just wanted to make a quick note that if this had been an article written in UK English the original punctuation for 'Dad just drank'? would be correct because we tend to have full stops outside of quotation marks; but since this is written in US English to protect the author's anonymity it's fine to stay as Cassie left it.

Brought up by alcohol
By Anonymous

Since about the age of eight years old I have watched my dad drink. He would have a can of beer whilst playing a game with us while my mum cooked dinner, and that would be the norm for a Sunday night. It never really bothered me that much when I was younger as alcohol has always been in this house and always will be. During the day he is sober, holding down a job from nine to six in an office. He's not the stereotypical alcoholic but he's still an alcoholic.

I can remember when his drinking would get out of control and it still does. I have always felt different from my friends - in school on Monday mornings it would always start with sharing about what we did over the weekend. Many people would say that they spent time with their dad or that their dad took them somewhere. When it got to me, what could I say? "Dad just drank?" No. Talking about Dad and his drinking is not something we were allowed to do, and we still do not talk about Dad and his drinking.

It wasn't until my bed times became later that I really began to notice how much my dad drinks. A can or two of beer per night was all I saw up to about the age of ten,maybe eleven. It was about this age I began to notice my dad passing out on the sofa. Inviting friends round to my house became problematic because the later they stayed,the more chance I had of them seeing Dad drunk. To keep this from happening I would make sure my friends were gone by the early evening. I was going to school tired and exhausted from waiting for my dad to either pass out or to go to bed and from trying to wake him up if he did pass out on the sofa. I was starting to get angry in school, not just because of what was going on at home, but also because I was getting bullied at school. Wherever I went, I was dealing with name calling and abuse. It was like there was no escape from it at all. I was labelled as naughty and badly behaved. I was threatened threatened with suspension and isolation, and was put on report. I began to bunk (skip class).

If I did attend lessons, people would irritate me and I would become angry. No one ever asked if I was okay and just assumed ''that was how I was.'' The reality was that I was trying to juggle schoolwork, dad's drinking, the abuse, arguments and trying to avoid getting into trouble at school. Yet, I could not tell anyone what was happening; I didn't have the words to say nor could I find them. I also felt like telling them what was going on at home would destroy the family. So I kept quiet. I still do feel like telling would destroy the family. I would fall asleep in classes, I'd get angry, yet most of the time I'd act like everything was fine.

My attendance fell from 100% percent to 50%, and it continued to fall until the attendance percentages got lower and lower. This was then attributed to be being a trouble maker and not being bothered about my education. As time went on, I missed deadlines and didn't bother with homework. If I did to my homework it would be sloppy and rushed,sometimes done on the bus or train while on the way to school. There were times when I used to get excellent grades, but overall my grades were slipping. Homework was not something I considered to be important, nor did I have the time to do it. I would come home from school, run up to my room, and collapse on my bed in a heap and cry - this was not just because of what was going on at home but also because of the pressures of school and the bullying. After a while I would calm down and tidy my room and watch some TV. I'd have dinner, and by then Dad was home from work and my time was taken up from having to deal with Dad. Arguments were every night and sometimes we would have up to four arguments a night. If it was a ''good night'' we would have one or two arguments. On a ''good night'' I would manage to get some homework done before having to deal with my dad whilst he was passed out the sofa and I would make sure he was okay the following morning.

I managed to get into college only just scraping by with the bare minimum grades I needed for my course but college proved to be just as hard. Though my attendance did seem to improve, I would still arrive late for class. I was becoming more and more angry, to the point where even the smallest thing would set me off. If someone said something I did not like I would rise from my seat and start shouting, or I would just shut down and stop talking. My tutor noticed and asked me what was going on. I said nothing at the time, but I had a few friends and one of my friends did know about my dad. This friend became my rock throughout college, they would call me most nights to make sure I was okay and that my dad was not getting violent or abusive, they offered me a place at their house for if I ever needed a place to stay, they gave me a card with emergency phone numbers on it for housing and places that could help me, they spoke to the police for me on my behalf to just get advice. I don't think I would have made it through the first year of college without that friend. This friend also encouraged me to call a helpline. The helpline became a safe place for me where I began to talk to them about my dad, the bullying and the self harming - which by now I was doing several times a day. There would be times where I would cry my eyes out or cry myself to sleep.

College was also the first time that I had social services involved. I was taken into a little room where there was a college counselor, a child protection officer and the person in charge of my course. They told me social services was going to be involved regardless of whether I wanted them involved or not. Someone had told them about my dad - I began to panic. Was my dad going to get arrested? What was going to happen to my family? A social worker came out to see me and my family, and met with me at college the next day. Because I was not willing to tell social services everything and to be completely honest with them, they closed the case.

I was left to cope with the situation by myself. I moved colleges. At my second college, my tutor saw the cuts on my arms and asked me about them. I told her they were nothing and pulled my sleeves down, not wanting to talk about it. The truth is it was not just nothing - I had self harmed the night before as way to cope with the events that occurred (Dad had been drunk and in a rage, had rammed a chair into my leg, crushing it into the side of the worktop).

I was smiling on the outside but crying and screaming out for help on the inside and was wishing for someone to notice the pain I was feeling and to offer me a way out of the situation I was in. No one in my life who I saw on a daily basis noticed or did anything to help. I felt helpless.

I began to look for help on my own. I found a few websites. Some were more helpful than others. However, some of the places I found have helped and supported me. TeenHelp is now one of my main sources of help and support - I know with TeenHelp there's always someone I can talk to or just logging into the chat room can help.

I'm still in the same situation - my dad still drinks. Talking has not solved or fixed the problem and has not changed my situation, but talking about it with the places I have found and use has helped me to understand that I am not the one responsible for my dad's drinking and that if my dad is to stop drinking nothing I try or do will make him stop - it's something he has to want and do for himself. I still care for and look after my dad on a regular basis. Talking won't stop my dad's drinking, however talking about it with people I have learned to trust and feel safe with does help me cope with my dad and deal with my situation. Talking is also helping me to deal with things in healthier ways. I'm still self harming but it's not every day. I have also learned that my dad's drinking is not my fault though I still find it hard incredibly hard to not blame myself for it.

[hocus pocus]

Thanks for fixing those things, Chess. And I didn't know that actually. I'm definitely going to keep that in mind for the future.

[WhisperingSilence]

ah cool thank you

Chess, I agree that keeping it in US English grammatical, spelling, and punctuational styles is better for anonymity purposes.

Lydia, do you mind if I add my own thoughts? I don't have experience with alcohol in my family, but I have with "friends" and peer pressure. Let me know!

[WhisperingSilence]

i dont mind but I think the edits are like pretty much done now..

[Halcyon]

Just a few minor things. Also, I noticed that sometimes you write 'Dad' and sometimes 'dad'. Is it okay to change them all to 'dad' to keep it consistent throughout? I have highlighted them in orange.

Brought up by alcohol
By Anonymous

Since about the age of eight years old I have watched my dad drink. He would have a can of beer whilst playing a game with us while my mum cooked dinner, and that would be the norm for a Sunday night. It never really bothered me that much when I was younger as alcohol has always been in this house and always will be. During the day he is sober, holding down a job from nine to six in an office. He's not the stereotypical alcoholic but he's still an alcoholic.

I can remember when his drinking would get out of control and it still does. I have always felt different from my friends - in school on Monday mornings it would always start with sharing about what we did over the weekend. Many people would say that they spent time with their dad or that their dad took them somewhere. When it got to me, what could I say? "Dad just drank?" No. Talking about Dad and his drinking is not something we were allowed to do, and we still do not talk about Dad and his drinking.

It wasn't until my bed times became later that I really began to notice how much my dad drinks. A can or two of beer per night was all I saw up to about the age of ten, maybe eleven. It was about this age I began to notice my dad passing out on the sofa. Inviting friends round to my house became problematic because the later they stayed, the more chance I had of them seeing Dad drunk. To keep this from happening I would make sure my friends were gone by the early evening. I was going to school tired and exhausted from waiting for my dad to either pass out or to go to bed, and from trying to wake him up if he did pass out on the sofa. I was starting to get angry in school, not just because of what was going on at home, but also because I was getting bullied at school. Wherever I went, I was dealing with name calling and abuse. It was like there was no escape from it at all. I was labelled as naughty and badly behaved. I was threatened threatened with suspension and isolation, and was put on report. I began to bunk (skip class).

If I did attend lessons, people would irritate me and I would become angry. No one ever asked if I was okay and just assumed ''that was how I was.'' The reality was that I was trying to juggle schoolwork, dad's drinking, the abuse, arguments and trying to avoid getting into trouble at school. Yet, I could not tell anyone what was happening; I didn't have the words to say nor could I find them. I also felt like telling them what was going on at home would destroy the family. So I kept quiet. I still do feel like telling would destroy the family. I would fall asleep in classes, I'd get angry, yet most of the time I'd act like everything was fine.

My attendance fell from 100% percent to 50%, and it continued to fall until the attendance percentages got lower and lower. This was then attributed to be me being a trouble maker and not being bothered about my education. As time went on, I missed deadlines and didn't bother with homework. If I did to do my homework it would be sloppy and rushed, sometimes done on the bus or train while on the way to school. There were times when I used to get excellent grades, but overall my grades were slipping. Homework was not something I considered to be important, nor did I have the time to do it. I would come home from school, run up to my room, and collapse on my bed in a heap and cry - this was not just because of what was going on at home but also because of the pressures of school and the bullying. After a while I would calm down and tidy my room and watch some TV. I'd have dinner, and by then Dad was home from work and my time was taken up from having to deal with Dad. Arguments were every night and sometimes we would have up to four arguments a night. If it was a ''good night'' we would have one or two arguments. On a ''good night'' I would manage to get some homework done before having to deal with my dad whilst he was passed out the sofa and I would make sure he was okay the following morning.

I managed to get into college only just scraping by with the bare minimum grades I needed for my course but college proved to be just as hard. Though my attendance did seem to improve, I would still arrive late for class. I was becoming more and more angry, to the point where even the smallest thing would set me off. If someone said something I did not like I would rise from my seat and start shouting, or I would just shut down and stop talking. My tutor noticed and asked me what was going on. I said nothing at the time, but I had a few friends and one of my friends did know about my dad. This friend became my rock throughout college, they would call me most nights to make sure I was okay and that my dad was not getting violent or abusive, they offered me a place at their house for if I ever needed a place to stay, they gave me a card with emergency phone numbers on it for housing and places that could help me, they spoke to the police for me on my behalf to just get advice. I don't think I would have made it through the first year of college without that friend. This friend also encouraged me to call a helpline. The helpline became a safe place for me where I began to talk to them about my dad, the bullying and the self harming - which by now I was doing several times a day. There would be times where I would cry my eyes out or cry myself to sleep.

College was also the first time that I had social services involved. I was taken into a little room where there was a college counselor, a child protection officer and the person in charge of my course. They told me social services was going to be involved regardless of whether I wanted them involved or not. Someone had told them about my dad - I began to panic. Was my dad going to get arrested? What was going to happen to my family? A social worker came out to see me and my family, and met with me at college the next day. Because I was not willing to tell social services everything and to be completely honest with them, they closed the case.

I was left to cope with the situation by myself. I moved colleges. At my second college, my tutor saw the cuts on my arms and asked me about them. I told her they were nothing and pulled my sleeves down, not wanting to talk about it. The truth is it was not just nothing - I had self harmed the night before as way to cope with the events that occurred (Dad had been drunk and in a rage, had rammed a chair into my leg, crushing it into the side of the worktop).

I was smiling on the outside but crying and screaming out for help on the inside and was wishing for someone to notice the pain I was feeling and to offer me a way out of the situation I was in. No one in my life who I saw on a daily basis noticed or did anything to help. I felt helpless.

I began to look for help on my own. I found a few websites. Some were more helpful than others. However, some of the places I found have helped and supported me. TeenHelp is now one of my main sources of help and support - I know with TeenHelp there's always someone I can talk to or just logging into the chat room can help.

I'm still in the same situation - my dad still drinks. Talking has not solved or fixed the problem and has not changed my situation, but talking about it with the places I have found and use has helped me to understand that I am not the one responsible for my dad's drinking and that if my dad is to stop drinking nothing I try or do will make him stop - it's something he has to want and do for himself. I still care for and look after my dad on a regular basis. Talking won't stop my dad's drinking, however talking about it with people I have learned to trust and feel safe with does help me cope with my dad and deal with my situation. Talking is also helping me to deal with things in healthier ways. I'm still self harming but it's not every day. I have also learned that my dad's drinking is not my fault though I still find it hard incredibly hard to not blame myself for it.