I used to do very well in school. In fact, I was one of the brightest kids in my class. I was well‑behaved, popular. I always hung out with a good crowd. I never got into any kind of trouble. Actually, I was too afraid to get into any trouble.

When school was out I used to wait at the corner. This was the hardest part of my day. I was waiting for my mom to pick me up, but I didn’t know what to expect.

As soon as she arrived I could tell if she had been drinking. Her voice sounded muffled. Her face looked pale. From the first minute I was with her I could tell what the rest of the night was going to be like. I knew when my dad came home he was going to fight with her. He’d argue, yell, scream, and then he’d run away.

But one afternoon my mom didn’t show up at all. I waited as long as I could. I kept picturing her in different ways. When she hadn’t been drinking she’d be smiling, wearing make‑up; she’d even look pretty. When she was drunk she’d be cold, tired, quiet, too quiet.

I couldn’t believe that she wouldn’t show up at all. Finally I decided to walk home. It was a long way to walk, and I hadn’t done it before, but I figured I must be old enough because by then I’d been taking care of my little sister for quite awhile.

I’d been doing a lot of things for quite awhile, like covering up for my mom at home. You know, I did things around the house that she should have been doing. I never told anybody about all the bottles of alcohol I found at our house. I never told anybody anything about my family, but I did everything I was told to do. I obeyed all of my teachers and coaches and scout leaders. It was like I felt like I needed to be perfect just to keep bad stuff from happening at home.

I never told anyone about the night my mom didn’t come to pick me up from school. Since then I’ve thought if I could have gotten into Alateen when I was real young, maybe I wouldn’t have had to keep things bottled up inside of me for so long.

I didn’t tell anybody about my mom for a long, long time. I wish I would have told somebody, but I didn’t know anybody cared, until I finally found Alateen. Everything I needed was right there waiting for me.

Thanks, everybody, for letting me talk.

Courage to Be Me–Living with Alcoholism (B-23), pp. 35-36