Inheritance

I am an ACOA. For those that do not know what that acronym means, it stands for Adult Child of Alcoholic. My mom was an artist, she was a sad artist. The type of artist who only paints when she was broken hearted, depressed and lonely. To me as a child, she was never more beautiful than when she painted. I would sit for hours and watch her blend and manipulate oil paints. She was also the first alcoholic in my life. At 5, I called 911 because I thought my mom and her boyfriend at the time, left me. I was terrified. It was 3am and I was home alone. I woke from a nightmare to find no one home. At 8 years old, I called the AA hotline to ask if my mom was an alcoholic. Too many stories and not many I like to share. My mom was verbally abused and neglected as a child….and the cycle continued into my childhood. Ironically, this recycled art piece is not dedicated to my life of inherited trauma but to the cycle I see repeating in other families. I was a broken child and I see them everywhere. Recently, I had a disagreement with someone who’s significant other is actively battling demons and self-medicating with alcohol. This person told me I did not know what an alcoholic is and shamed me for setting boundaries to protect myself and my son...This art piece was made after this conversation. What some people do not realize is that those of us who are ACOA’s we are also often battling inherited trauma or childhood neglect/abuse. I live the inheritance daily.