The AA Baby


“I remember the year you were born, it was in 1987. That’s when your father went through a very bad phase. I remember you because you were the only infant whose dad was in AA. We called you the AA baby.”

No one will ever know how I still cry, but this time, each tear symbolises hope. Each tear symbolises a release of resentment and anger. Will I, the AA baby, be jinxing the current positivity in my life if I publish this post? I think that I have waited long enough to evoke my emotions regarding a personal strife, which thankfully, took a turn for the better.

I have previously posted about my father’s alcoholism. For as long as I can remember, that’s all he ever was to me, an alcoholic. I never considered myself daddy’s little girl, nor did I share a close bond with him. In fact, we’ve hardly exchanged words. Things are different today. He has been sober for two months. For the first time in 27 years, I feel like I have a father.

This was not an easy road to sobriety. My father is stubborn. We begged him to get admitted and seek the psychiatric help that he needed. Alcoholism, like any form of addiction, is deep-seeded. Quite honestly, I am forever grateful to those two kind gentlemen, who as his AA sponsors, went above and beyond their call of duty to pick my dad up.

The intervention itself was a jarring experience. It was nerve-wracking for me, if anything. I offloaded a ton of emotions directed at both my mom and dad. There were sentiments that needed to be expressed. They both needed to know how they’ve played a role in scarring me. Yes, I did label my mom an enabler. She was for the better part.

In the past, I’ve written extensively about my indifference towards my father. Today, I can finally call it a day and let bygones be bygones. I hope that he stays sober this time and uses his naturally-acquired mentoring skills to assist other recovering alcoholics in need. He is strictly adhering to the 12-step programme and he finds solace in spirituality. As my father has depicted, it’s never too late to grow and evolve into a better version of you. While my father is recovering from alcoholism, I am also in recovery mode. Recovery for me is making sense of everything that has transpired around me, and reaching a truce with my father.

The AA baby can finally take another step forward with one less shackle buckling her down…

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