When I finally confronted my issue with alcohol, it opened the door to self-reflection about my future. For a couple of years, I clung to my drinking habits. It was simpler to drown my problems in alcohol than to face them. It wasn’t until I recognized that I was indeed an alcoholic that I faced a pivotal choice: Should I continue drinking and maintain the facade of control, or should I stop?
My decision to quit drinking was motivated not by personal desires but by my children. At the peak of my addiction, I held so much self-loathing that I couldn’t allow myself the kindness of seeking help or taking center stage in my life. Left to my own devices, I might have spiraled to a tragic end. However, I found enough strength to realize I couldn’t let my children witness that descent.
I stopped drinking to become a sober parent. Yet, I soon discovered that sobriety didn’t automatically make me a better parent, at least not yet.
I was a high-functioning alcoholic who, despite my addiction, maintained a relentless pursuit of perfection. Guilt and shame drove my need for an impeccable appearance. On the surface, I seemed like a devoted parent, but my writing, health, and emotional well-being suffered. Alcohol was my companion during countless hours spent playing with my babies and toddlers. Meal times? I could handle it—after a quick drink. Storytime, puzzles, art projects? Sure! But first, let me pour myself a glass.
I didn’t just embrace the cultural notion that “parenting is hard, so let me have a drink”; I also believed that spending time with my kids was an excuse to indulge. My alcohol use stunted my healing journey, creating an illusion of engagement while hiding my struggles. Concealing drinks in a travel mug became my motivation during playdates and outings. Accepting invitations that included mimosas made gathering playdates easier.
With a drink in hand, I felt present. But in reality, I was mentally detached. Though I was physically there, I was mentally elsewhere, using alcohol as a shield against my emotions, especially the profound impact my children had on me. Behind a wall of distraction, I maintained the appearance of a responsible parent.
Now, in my recovery, I miss bedtime stories to attend AA meetings. I often tell my kids I can’t join them until I’ve completed my workout. My patience has waned, and I find myself snapping more often. I realize that I might come across as less nurturing than before. I apologize for my tone, explaining that I’m navigating challenging emotions. My children understand this love comes from a new, albeit raw, place.
This journey is about more than sobriety; it’s about self-discovery. I had to confront my identity and accept that I am transgender. I am learning who I truly am while juggling the demands of parenting three small children. It’s a complicated mix of healing from past traumas while striving to be the parent I aspire to be.
I remind myself that I am still a good parent. I recognize the advantages of sober parenting, but the true benefits will manifest over time as I become more adept at living in recovery. I’m discovering my inner strength and learning to be uncomfortable, all while nurturing my children. They will remember a sober parent, but I want them to know a parent who loved herself enough to embark on this journey.
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Summary
In the journey of sobriety, one mother reflects on the complexities of becoming a sober parent. While she initially believed that quitting drinking would make her a better parent, she soon realized that true growth would take time. As she navigates her recovery, she confronts her identity and past traumas, learning to be present with her children while discovering her authentic self.