By: Ava Knight
Date: April 22, 2025
I’ve been living with this weight for years now, but today I hit a point where I couldn’t hold it in anymore. For the last 15 years, my dad’s been an alcoholic. I watched him spiral down, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop him. He stopped earning money, contributing to the household, and over time, my mom and grandma were the ones who kept everything together. When my grandma passed away this year, everything just crumbled even more. My mom, still grieving, lost her pension, and I couldn’t help but feel the pressure of all of it.
Growing up with an alcoholic dad has never been easy. It’s a constant cycle of him getting drunk, yelling at us, and making our lives miserable. I’ve gotten used to the verbal abuse. But what happened today was different.
He came home as usual, already drunk, and started hurling insults at my mom. I’ve learned to ignore it. I’ve learned to tune it out because it’s been a daily occurrence for so many years. But today, something inside me snapped. He didn’t stop there. He went out onto the balcony and started shouting insults at everyone in the neighborhood. I could hear people yelling back at him, telling him to shut up or threatening to come over and deal with him. I was already angry, tired, frustrated—everything I’d been holding in for so long started to surface.
Before I knew it, I was at the door, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him inside. He wasn’t done yet. He tried to push me off, still yelling, still acting like he was invincible, but something inside me broke. I didn’t think, I didn’t even feel like I had control of myself. My hands just moved on their own. I punched him—hard. Then I kicked him. I could see the shock in his eyes as he stumbled back, but all I felt was this intense rush of anger. I couldn’t stop.
When he hit the floor, it was like everything froze. I stood there, breathing heavily, not knowing what to feel. There was guilt, but there was also relief. It was as if all the years of pent-up frustration, all the years of silently watching him destroy our lives, had built up to this one moment. I never wanted to hurt him, but I couldn’t ignore how much he had hurt all of us, how much he had taken from us.
Now, I’m left with this heavy feeling. I don’t know what to do with myself. I can’t take back what happened, but I can’t keep living in this toxic environment, either. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for what I did, but at the same time, part of me wonders if he deserved it.
I feel stuck in this endless loop of anger, guilt, and helplessness. I don’t know how to move forward, but all I know is that I can’t keep pretending like everything is okay when it’s not.
