I was a parentified child...

Sometimes, it takes a lot for me to talk about my childhood. I was the fourth child of parents who spent their weekend afternoons in bars and usually my sister and I were dragged along. I got really good at that game they had there, the one where you slide the puck to hit the pins, kind of like bowling, but different. There was an endless stream of dimes so we'd keep playing and when we got bored, we went outside and played on the dock. By the time dinner came, we were tired of sitting in a bar and wanted to go home.

That was the least of it. It only got worse from there.

It's hard to talk about the loss of my childhood because by the time I was about nine, I had become an adult. My sister and I searched the house for hidden bottles of booze. We spent many a night in the car with my mother, who several times either almost drove off a bridge or into a tree. Back then, it wasn't a big deal to drive drunk. Or to keep your kids up all night while you did some really big drunken blubbering. Or to terrify them in any way.

I was terrified. I was terrified by the loss of my mother, or who she had become. I was terrified by the seeming indifference of my father. I was terrifed by the fights, the screaming, the smashing of things against the wall. I was terrified by the future, finances, food (or the lack of), but most of all I was terrified by everything I felt.

Fear goes down like a piece of fruit but it comes up like a monster, triple in size, wholly more horrible, and all the more frightening. I learned to be invisible, so I wouldn't set either of my parents off on a drunken binge. I learned to keep my mouth shut, which, if you knew me, you'd understand how hard that would be. But what I learned was that I had no worth, I was last on the long list of things that counted. I didn't.

Fortunately, I believed that I would get away, change my life, raise my own family, and find happiness. I did. But it took me a long time to come to terms with what had happened and how damaged I'd become. And healing was a painful process.

This is why I write books. Or at least a part of it. No, it's not cathartic to write. But I think it's important to shed light on what goes on behind closed doors. Too many kids suffer like I did. There's not much else I can do.

A little light. A little hope. A promise that it can be better. That's why I do what I do.

And on a side note...

I am available to speak to groups including college or high school classes. I also do inspirational talks for larger groups. Just email me and we can talk.