I’ve written before about the struggle with my mother and her second stroke, about setting boundaries with my father, and most recently about the way his home is becoming more cluttered. I want to share what I’ve been noticing—and what I’m learning to do with it.
I’m an alcoholic in recovery. I’ve been sober for 17 years. I believe I’ve always had an addictive mind. Alcohol was my main way of dealing with life—or avoiding it—but food, television, and other things could take hold, too. At one point, I weighed at least 350 pounds. I say “at least” because that’s where the scale stopped.
I understand that alcoholism is a disease, and that genetics can play a part. We inherit genes from both parents. But recovery has also taught me not to point fingers or label someone else. Only a person can identify their own addiction. I can speak about my experience and notice similarities, but I can’t diagnose my father.
For a long time, I’ve noticed that he holds on to things “just in case.” There are expired medications, papers stacked near his computer that never seem to get looked at, and old mail. Lately, I’ve also noticed more processed food coming into the house through Amazon.
When my mother was living at home, she wouldn’t have bought this much junk food. Without her there, my father’s choices seem to be changing. I’m not going to police what he buys or try to manage his home.
This morning, I took a picture of the first floor—the kitchen and the TV area. It was never a Better Homes & Gardens photo, but it used to be tidier and stocked with healthier options. Seeing the difference was hard.
Still, noticing something doesn’t mean I can control it. I’ve set my boundary. My father’s choices are his to make, and my recovery and well-being are mine to protect.
It is what it is. I can care, be honest about what I see, and let go of what isn’t mine to manage.
