Confessions of a High-Functioning Alcoholic Dad
I never missed a birthday.
I packed school lunches.
I showed up at recitals, Disney trips, and late-night heart-to-hearts about friend drama and college stress.
And I was also drinking.
Not fall-down, scream-in-the-street, black-out drinking.
No. I was too good at it for that.
This was the stealth kind — the “pour it into a to-go cup” kind. The “you deserve it, it’s been a long day” kind. The kind of drinking that hides in plain sight while convincing you you’re still a great dad… because technically, you are.
Until you realize great dads don’t have to sneak anything.
🎭 High-Functioning is Just High-Performing Pain
The phrase “high-functioning alcoholic” sounds almost impressive.
Like you’ve earned a medal in multitasking your way through self-destruction.
But the truth is, I functioned because I was terrified of what would happen if I didn’t.
I was scared to stop because sobriety meant sitting with the real me — stripped of charm, numbing agents, and excuses.
I thought my girls would lose respect for me if they knew how often I had a buzz behind my jokes, how many times I “ran errands” just to sneak a drink, or how often I put myself first when I swore I wasn’t.
Turns out, they didn’t lose respect.
They gained a version of me that finally showed up without pretending.
That’s the trap.
You’re there — but you’re not really there.
Sure, there are videos of me at theme parks and restaurants, singing along with the music and cracking jokes. But I look at some of those clips now and think: that’s not me.
It’s the version of me with just enough alcohol to stay fun… and just enough guilt to stay numb.
You start asking yourself questions like:
“How much did they notice?”
“Did I ruin any moments?”
“Do they remember the times I wasn’t all in?”
Sobriety didn’t erase those moments.
But it gave me the chance to create better ones — and this time, I’ll remember them.
💬 The Conversation That Changed Everything
One night, early in sobriety, I was watching a movie with my daughter and caught myself actually watching it. Not checking my phone. Not checking out.
Just… there.
And I turned to her and said something like, “I think this is the first movie I’ve sat at home and watched all the way through in years.”
She just smiled. Not because the comment was profound. But because I was finally with her.
That’s the part they don’t tell you:
Sometimes sobriety isn’t about fixing what’s broken.
It’s about finally participating in the life you already had.
✍️ WRITE YOUR OWN SONG
Have you ever convinced yourself your “bad habit” wasn’t bad because everything else still looked good?
What memories do you actually remember clearly — and which ones feel foggy?
If someone in your life deserves more presence from you… what’s stopping you?