#adultchildrenofalcoholics

[ineedfairypee]

Nothing else matters 😫

[becorbin]

[roarwellnessorg]

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📣 𝗘𝗻𝗿𝗼𝗹𝗹 𝗡𝗼𝘄 :

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📞 +91-9773890499 , +91-9319977207 #Detox #alcoholAddiction #detoxprogram #rehab #rehabcenter #rehabcentre #alcoholrehab    #alcoholism #addiction #recovery  #alcoholic #mentalhealth #alcoholicsanonymous #onedayatatime #addictionrecovery #alcohol #recoveryispossible  #drugaddiction  #alcoholfree  #depression  #addictionawareness  #alcoholics #familydisease #mentalhealthawareness #adultchildrenofalcoholics #cleanandsober #rehab #drugs #addictiontreatment #addict #anxiety #love  #substanceabuse #alcoholicproblems #adultchildren #adultchild #adultchildofanalcoholic  #letgoandletgod #recoveryjourney  #drugabuse  #codependent #selfcare #alcoholicparents #dysfunctional #twelvesteps  #familyrecovery

[sewrussia]

Posted @withregram • @empower.therapyandcoaching This has come up in both of the groups I led this week. Putting everyone else’s needs first. Doing what makes other people feel comfortable and happy - sometimes at the cost of our own joy. ⁠ ⁠ People-pleasing is (brilliant) adaptive strategy that grows from a deep-rooted fear of abandonment. When we people-please, we turn on ourselves. We abandon our needs and desires because choosing ourselves feels like it’s going to threaten the relationship. It’s really scary for that child inside that is afraid of the loss of connection. And so we please to survive. ⁠ ⁠ Underneath your secondary survival tactics is a fountain, abundantly overflowing with wisdom, strength, and worthiness.⁠ ⁠ And when we hold the little person inside that contorted in all kinds of ways in order to get love – and say “My darling, you make so much sense. I see all the ways that you helped us to survive. You don’t need to do that anymore. I’ve got you ” < We begin to heal and to allow ourselves to experience who we are underneath all of the hustling for approval. We start to feel safe as we are. And what a gift that is for our young parts.⁠ ⁠ #aca #acoa #adultchildrenofalcoholics #adultchildrenofemotionallyimmatureparents #aa #boundaries #settingboundaries #freetherapy #traumatherapy #healthyboundaries #coda #codependency #codependentnomore #codependencyrecovery #addictionrecovery #peoplepleasing #peoplepleaser #adultchildrenofnarcissists #narcissisticmother #narcinon #adultchildrenofnarcissists #healingfromnarcissism https://www.instagram.com/p/CSKNXQhnV-2/?utm_medium=tumblr

[measuringlife]

Well this post from @the_female_lead of @blcksmth so eloquently and briefly hit the nail on the head for me. . I can’t quite put my finger on how I’ve felt in the almost 3 weeks since I left my 15 year career in education and moved onto a new career in the private sector, But I think a good analogy is when you’ve had a sore muscle and you’ve learned to just grit your teeth and deal with the pain, to now having no muscle pain at all. . Fear can hold you hostage, it did for me at least. I am so proud of the work I’ve done on my healing journey these last four years, all while remaining in the same environment that caused me to need so much healing. I wish I hadn’t been so scared to go, but here I am living in a whole new world. One where I can’t imagine being abused and stressed over and over again in the way my previous life abused and stressed me out. . I think part of it for me was feeling safe in the abuse. There was no fear of the bad time to come because you were just living in it always. Whereas my new job is a much happier and friendlier place and yes I’m sure the dark clouds will come from time to time, but I can hang onto to the Hope and knowledge of the return of sunny skies. . #jobchange #careerchange #selfcare #healingjourney #toxicworkplace #adultchildrenofalcoholics #adultchildren #adultchildrenofnarcissists https://www.instagram.com/p/CQhQLPIh6jY/?utm_medium=tumblr

[pokingholes-cptsdwarrior]

Yes. 💔 #Repost @keepingupwithshanaee ・・・ Sadly, at times I still feel unloveable. Unworthy of the best. But was it really the projection of my own ? . . . . . . #breakthecycle #emotionalabuse #adultchildrenofnarcissists #narcissist #narcissisticabuse #gaslighting #adultchildrenofalcoholics #childhoodtrauma #innerchild #acoa #dysfunctionalfamily #codependency #codependentnomore #childabusesurvivor #traumarecovery #traumainformed #innerchildhealingvillage #selfcare #nocontact #loveaddict #loveaddiction #motherwound #therapistsofinstagram #empathsofinstagram #depressionhelp #complextrauma #cptsd #cptsdrecovery #cptsdsurvivor https://www.instagram.com/p/B_359AEgkzU/?igshid=2bg00p4qi8zs

[alcohol-and-grief]

Mum died just over two years ago now.

She died due to Cancer - ironicly enough she was a Cancerian.

This year she would have turned 54 the week before I turned 24.

She died due to a Cancer that was caused by excessive alcohol abuse.

[brightorangerain]

#trauma #childhoodtrauma #abuse #acoa #adultchildrenofalcoholics #ptsd #cptsd #emotionalabuse #verbalabuse #addiction #mentalhealth #mentalillness #mentalillnessawareness #depression #anxiety #✔ https://www.instagram.com/p/B12QIE9J79n/?igshid=jsn0lhfazr0x

[ankitasingh12332]

[ladymworld]

S A T U R D A Y N I G H T looked like this... We are F A M I L Y . . . It is said that "Good things come in small packages" and my immediate family may be small but just look at the love captured in these shots tonight...😍👌 My heart was bursting...I am S O B L E S S E D . . . Together we have all we need. Being a Nanna to Lenni and Nanny Kerry to Remi is the best role I have ever had...the feelings cannot be described...only experienced...🙏😊 Thank you @aliciiaa_b and @kieranmcivor for a fanflippingtastic evening in your lovely home 🏡 ❤️ @rainbowunicornpoos it was just the best to see you and Kieran together with your children... Remi is going to be the most awesome big sister to new Baby McIvor-Bilton arriving June 2022 after seeing her with her cousin Lenni tonight. #wearefamily #familymatters #familytime #siblinglove #adultchildrenofalcoholics #brotherandsister #cousins #Nottingham #lennielizabeth #remiblu #mychildrenandtheirchildren #ladym (at East Bridgford) https://www.instagram.com/p/CZnR9LNMFcMJqZnT6R7MgC8WqQp9-Moo8BgO3M0/?utm_medium=tumblr

[deathofmyfather]

Saturday, January 6th, 2018, at 11:06pm

CONTENT WARNING: This post contains graphic descriptions of death and dying.

If this blog is supposed to be about confronting my grief head-on, I might as well start with the most difficult topic of them all: the last 3 days of my dad’s life. This will be a long post.

I’ve been looking at this picture for a while now. It’s actually very hard to let the memories of those last few days come back to me. After all, I’ve been pretty good at keeping them at bay for the past 8 months.

I’ve heard that there can be some PTSD involved with watching someone die. Based on my own experience, I’d say that’s true.

My dad was admitted to the hospital Thursday night, January 4th, 2018. He was having trouble walking and had lost some vision (he described it as looking through “black leaves”). One nurse (or doctor, I honestly can’t remember) told me that it’s likely he had a minor heart attack sometime before or during his admission to the hospital. He had low sodium and low blood pressure, and his liver and kidneys were both failing. I feel like someone said he had low blood sugar as well, but again, I can’t remember.

As mentioned in my introductory post, I was estranged from my father beginning April 5th, 2017, when I found proof that he was drinking again. I had made family friends aware of the fact that I wanted nothing to do with my dad unless he 1) decided to start attending AA meetings or 2) was on his death bed. I wanted to help my dad and be in his life, but I refused to enable him while he committed slow suicide by alcohol. I didn’t even want him to stop drinking right away, necessarily. I just wanted him to attend an AA meeting. Unfortunately, he refused to go to these meetings. He was exhausted and couldn’t fight the depression and alcoholism any longer. It consumed him.

My family friends respected my wishes. They didn’t contact me until the night my dad was admitted to the hospital. I told them I would see how he did overnight before deciding to come to the hospital or not. He didn’t show any improvement, and at the urging of my godmother, my brother and I went to the hospital at about 10:00am on Friday, January 5th.

Seeing my dad so close for the first time in quite a while was unsettling. One symptom of cirrhosis is ascites, or the abnormal buildup of fluid in the abdomen that can occur when the liver isn’t functioning properly. This caused my dad to be very swollen in his abdomen and appendages. He had also gone completely gray in the last few months before his death. He had started getting some gray in his goatee around age 30, but it was still strange seeing him with an all-white beard and gray hair. Jaundice caused him to have a yellow skin tone, as well. I remember walking into his room and going “Hey, Dad. Long time no see, huh?” He was a little surprised to see me but not as surprised to see my brother.

I don’t remember much of what we talked about during those few hours that he was relatively lucid. I know we didn’t talk much to begin with, but he started to say some odd things as he got more delirious. He thought the black rubber band around the base of a security camera on the ceiling was a snake that was going to fall on top of my brother. He also threw a comment or two about the Civil War out there, acting as if he was responding to something Garrett said. He kept asking us to get his wallet so we could take some money from it, even though his wallet wasn’t in his hospital bag. As he became more delirious, he insisted on moving around in bed too much and then demanded to get up and walk around. He was frustrated and thrashing about a little. This movement caused him to pull out some of his IVs. This led to him getting a central line in his neck around 3:30pm that Friday afternoon. He was given an anti-anxiety medication that caused him to sleep for several hours.

I don’t remember what I said to my dad before I left the room so the hospital staff could insert his central line. I hope that I told him I loved him. I don’t beat myself up about this, though, because I didn’t really understand that he would end up being sedated from this point forward. Honestly, I don’t know if it would have made a difference to him at that point with how agitated he had gotten in just a few hours.

After about an hour, we were allowed to enter the room again. My brother had to go home, so it was just me in the hospital for a minute. The first family friend to come see my dad once I was there was Dal. He came around 5:30pm that Friday and stayed for about an hour and a half. I am so incredibly grateful that Dal was there at that time. My dad had thin blood that kept leaking out from his central line. The nurses had to come in and attempt to stop the bleeding so that the central line could work correctly. His low blood pressure meant that he couldn’t have pain meds, and even while sedated he began thrashing around from the pain caused by working on the central line. At one point, three nurses, myself, and Dal were all holding my dad down while another nurse worked on his neck. I talked to him and tried letting him know that I was there, it would be okay, and to just relax and let the nurses help him. I teared up here, but didn’t cry. I attribute that to Dal giving me strength while he was there. My poor dad was so swollen with ascites that there were indents where my hands had been on his legs for several minutes after I stopped touching him. It was extremely sad.

At this point, I decided I would stay in the hospital overnight. Another family friend, Sandy G., came to sit with my dad while I went home to shower and pack my back with 2 days worth of clothes and supplies. I remember an argument with my family about preparing to stay there overnight for days. They didn’t want me to overextend myself right before I started a new semester of college on Monday, but being the control freak and worrier that I am, I refused to take their advice and headed back to the hospital around 9:30pm that night.

In the end, I’m glad I ended up there for the night. Though he had previously been able to keep his airways clear himself, Johnny’s lungs began to fail around midnight that night. I went from reading Stranger Beside Me in my pajamas while my dad snored to looking up to 5 nurses and the hospital supervisor looking at me for answers. I remember someone asking me if I understood what I’d been told. I responded something along the lines of “He could breathe before, but now he can’t. So if you don’t do this, he’ll stop breathing and die.” I was asked if I wanted to let the staff intubate him, or if I would refuse any more life-saving measures. I was alone, my uncle had started driving down from PA to come to the hospital, and most friends hadn’t been in to see him yet, so I told them to intubate my dad. 

After I gave the go-ahead for intubation, the house supervisor walked me to a holding room to wait out the process. She praised me for being so rational in making my decision, especially when I was so young and my parent was involved. I chalked it up to the many stories I’d read on nursing forums of families behaving irrationally while making care decisions for a loved one. I didn’t want to be that family member who caused her loved one to suffer when there wasn’t a chance of survival, but I knew I couldn’t handle the situation alone. I started calling my family members in an attempt to get them to the hospital. I was starting to panic, especially since I’d been told the intubation may not be successful. Unfortunately, my family had their phones on vibrate without thinking. After many attempted calls and frantic messages, I got a friend in town to go knock on the door in an attempt to wake my family up. When that didn’t work, I got an ex-boyfriend to knock on my parents’ bathroom window to wake our dogs up. The dogs created enough of a racket to wake my parents up about an hour after the intubation process began. Within another 45 minutes, I wasn’t alone anymore.

Shortly before my mom and brother got back to the hospital, I was called back into my dad’s room. His intubation had been pretty messy. One nurse told me that he had spewed blood across the room at one point, which is part of why it took so long to get family members back in the room after the intubation. He was completely sedated from this point forward. Whereas any adjustments to his central line had caused grunts of pain and resistance before the sedation, cleaning the central line with alcohol didn’t cause my dad to so much as flutter an eyelid after the sedation. I personally don’t believe that he heard anything after this point, but no one really knows.

The next day passed by in a blur. Johnny had esophageal varices that were bleeding. A scope was scheduled to look at these varices and determine whether or not they could be banded off to stop the bleeding that was blocking his airway. A paracentesis (draining off of the ascites) was also on the schedule if my dad became stable enough for the procedure, but he never did. Family friends brought my brother and me food, money, support, and love. They visited throughout the day and talked to my dad and us about memories and everything else under the sun. At some point, my dad was put on a ventilator to keep him breathing artificially (previously the tube had allowed his airway to remain clear while he breathed on his own). A few breathing treatments were done throughout the day. During the first breathing treatment, I asked the respiratory therapist to be honest with me when I asked my next question: “Do you really think he has a chance of survival based on his current state?” She answered that while sometimes miracles happened, she thought it very unlikely that he would recover. I cannot explain how much of a relief it was for someone to be honest with me like that. Hope and positive thinking are very important for some people when their loved one is in the hospital. I didn’t want to stop hoping that my dad would have a chance to live a little longer, but I preferred a realistic mindset over an idealistic one. I needed to prepare myself for the worst case scenario while hoping for the best. I remember googling “organ failure cirrhosis” to read up on his condition. After a cirrhosis patient’s third organ failed, the mortality rate was so close to 100% that a percentage wasn’t even given.

After many visits from family friends, nurses, and doctors, my uncle arrived in Florida that Saturday evening. We gave him some time to eat, settle in, and rest (he had driven straight to FL from PA, only stopping at rest stops for a few hours of sleep at a time) before I asked the night nurse, AJ, to start the process of taking my dad off the ventilator. Consent from a few different doctors was needed, and then I had to sign the paperwork to officially begin the process of his death, essentially.

The daytime nurse, Cassandra, had warned me that his death could be potentially messy with the esophageal bleeding my dad was having. Because of this warning, I asked that the respiratory therapist aspirate the blood so that my family didn’t have to watch my dad choke to death.

At about 10:41pm, my dad’s ventilator was removed. The blood that started to come up was aspirated away by a respiratory therapist as requested. Once he seemed ‘stable,’ all medical personnel left the room to let us have our last few moments with Johnny. Myself, my brother, my mom (his ex-wife), and his brother and sister were there. I was on his left side, followed by my mom and Garrett. My aunt was across from me, and my uncle was at the foot of the bed on my dad’s right side. Though we’d all had our alone time with him earlier in the day to say goodbye, we still talked to him and told him how much we loved him.

I thought he would pass away pretty quickly, but I was mistaken. Seconds passed and turned into minutes. I can picture him laying there very clearly. He would go ten, twelve, five, nine, thirteen, twenty, eight, ten seconds between hitched breaths. I think I’ll be able to hear the sound of him breathing for as long as I live. After a certain point, I began wishing for him to die. I willed him to just let go and spare us the trauma of watching him die so slowly.

Twenty-five minutes later, at about 11:06pm, the night nurse came in to let us know that his heart had stopped beating.

Relief washed over me. For the first time during this whole ordeal, I started to cry. I thanked AJ and put my hands to my face while I ran down the hallway into the “consultation room” where I started to wail out in grief, sadness, and pain. I cried alone for a minute or two before my mom and brother caught up to me. We all hugged and sobbed together for a while. After about ten minutes, my tears started to let up. I knew I had to shift from hospital mode into funeral mode. My mom and dad were divorced in 2016, so as his oldest child, I took on most of the responsibilities after his death. When we had composed ourselves a little bit, we went back into the room to be with my dad’s body until the house supervisor came by. I remember asking AJ for a cloth to wipe the blood from my dad’s beard and neck where the central line had been. Because he was no longer alive, it was too easy to move his neck and head while I cleaned him off. It was disturbing.

Once the house supervisor came in, we began discussing the logistics of moving my dad’s body, funeral homes, indigent burials, and more. That’s a post for another time. After we decided to move him to the hospital morgue for the time being, my family collected my dad’s belongings and started the trip home. I had only slept for 3 of the last 50 hours - 2 hours that morning and a 45 minute nap in the middle of the day. To say I was physically and emotionally exhausted was an understatement. Garrett rode in the car with me. We stopped at a McDonald’s for our first food since lunch. I vaguely remember eating, changing into pajamas, putting on The Joy of Painting to soothe myself, and climbing into bed. One nightmare was over, but another one would begin after my night’s rest.

Thank you for reading this far. This has been extremely difficult and therapeutic to write. If you have anything to add or comment on, please feel free to submit a post or ask a question through the buttons above. 

Much love,

-M

[ineedfairypee]

She made me whole but now I am broken 💔

[becorbin]

I love this quote so much.

One image wasn't enough.

[louisewoodcock]

#TRIGGERWARNING !!! Introducing.... TINA TRAUMA! She's a fun loving gal with a story to tell, like a one woman Kurt & Courtney Love/Hate machine 💔💘💔 Tina will have her own tik tok and insta pretty soon I'm sure, she's pretty much recorded an album this week! She's sure a busy little bee! Tina looks suspiciously like @trishblingdee don't she? Photo by Lucy Martin @lucylara @Tinatrauma #tinatrauma #complextrauma #codependencyrecovery #narcissist #narcissisticabuse #comedy #satire #liveart #performanceartist #addiction #acoa #coda #adultchildrenofalcoholics #cptsd #nashville #countrymusic #altcountry #nirvana #kurtcobain #courtneylove #hole #nirvanaunplugged #acoustic #singersongwriter #death #loss #aa https://www.instagram.com/p/CIVszt_gW_N/?igshid=1mv8ba8ybuiwj

[spiritandsoul-us-blog]

"God grant me the serenity to accept the people I cannot change, To change the one I can and the wisdom to know that one is me" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . #aca #adultchildrenofalcoholics #alcoholics #alcoholicsanonymous #prayer #faith #jesus #pray #love #god #bible #christian #church #jesuschrist #hope #believe #godisgood #peace #worship #blessed #christ #christianity #holyspirit #bibleverse #grace #truth #gospel #amen #scripture #inspiration https://www.instagram.com/p/CG1V0IyFixP/?igshid=q0e8otsgmq25

[measuringlife]

I know this holiday season is hard for a lot of folks for so many reasons, but this is shaping to be my best one yet. 
.
The holidays have been painful for me for years and year, both personally and the images of others holidays that were in stark contrast to mine. This year seeing everyone’s posts of small gatherings and feeling “normal” was nice for a change. 
.
I actually like my small holiday celebrations that have become our tradition, but I’ve always felt shame. I don’t know why, likely the social pressure of the holidays. But I hope after this year people can better understand the love and joy that can still make a holiday special with only another person or two. 
.
#holidays #dysfunctionalfamily #adultchildrenofalcoholics #adultchildrenofnarcissists #holidaytrauma #choosehappiness #choosejoy https://www.instagram.com/p/CIE1kc-BSyg/?igshid=1b1mgovr3ej3