I recall a black eye my mom had the following morning from this violence. The domestic violence that became so regular it pried its learned behavior traits into my soul. I hated my dad more and more. I couldn’t understand if my mom cried from this why wouldn’t my dad stop, improve things,
My dad was a complete raging alcoholic. Growing up I didn’t know it was an addiction. An addiction that controlled his every thought and action of every day for years. An addiction that made my dad hateful, physically, and emotionally abusive towards his wife and children. An addiction he would eventually be able to pass on to me and one sister.

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