I used to hate my dad. Like, really hate him.
When I was little, he’d come home drunk and mad at the world. Sometimes the cops showed up because the neighbors called. He got arrested for DUI twice — once when I was like 8. I still remember seeing the flashing lights through the window.
Back then, I thought he was just a loser who didn’t care about us. I didn’t understand how addiction works, or how someone can love you and still mess up your life.
Years went by. I didn’t talk to him. Then last year, I found out he’d been sober for six years, working construction, helping other guys get clean. I didn’t believe it until I saw him myself.
He told me he never stopped thinking about that night — the one when he almost crashed with me in the back seat. Said it was his wake-up call.
I don’t hate him anymore. I won’t forget, but I get it now.
My bio dad Jonathon? He was worse — mean, violent, zero accountability. But my real dad, the one who actually tried to change… I respect that.
People screw up. Some keep screwing up. Some learn. My dad’s proof you can come back from it — even when everyone already wrote you off.
Addy