Devoured by anxiety by SabuMy father is an alcoholic, he has been for many years now. Since I was little from time to time a fight between my mother and father would erupt and it would be very painful for me and my little brother. My father grew up in a poor family and bad companies led him to become an addict. Though he never directly abused his family and cared for us he's been always reserved and that did not help. Since I was little I would be worried for him, waiting for him to return home so that I would not be anxious as to where we would be, what he would be doing, or drinking. I caught hima few times in the town's bar drinking and many times he promised he would not do that again but you know how alcohol is hard to leave. He would return home drunk sometimes and the main thing for me and my family has been that we cared for him while he was ruining his health and himself. He's not too educated to explaining certain ideas that could help him is has been hard. When he'd be drunk he'd be like another person, a stranger. Aggressive, not caring, and overall very bad to have around. Years went by, alcohol started to affect his brain with him becoming ore distracted. The stress of work and his worries for family did not help. We were never a rich family and his work has alaways been improtant to provide for us. At work he'd be treated badly as well by his employers. Some were good but some were bad and racist and this led to him spiraling down more. Then last year he fell into a coma. Ammonium get to his brain, his liver barely holding on and being diagnoned with chyrrosis and me and my family destroyed. I remmeber the months before that. He became unsustainable, more aggressive, filtihier to have around. I remmeber at one pojint a few years ago I started to hate him, I wanted him to die. Now here he was, dying. But I was not happy, I was sad, very sad. I had learnt to understand that he was sick and that he could nto stop even if he wanted but that coma situation has hit us hardly nonetheless. He survived, he got cleaned up though he's still a bit hard to handle things have gotten a bit better. He left his work, me and my bro help family financially. But my heart is still wounded. He's not really keen into following the diet he should follow to stay healthy and even now when I sometimes see him distracted I get panic attacks not knowing wether he still went out to drink or not. Everything I know he's out for a walk I get anxious, cannot function and when I hear from him and he on the other hand sounds vigilant and ok I feel at ease. This is something I've been living with for years now and slowly I can feel that this anxiety and the trauma is chipping away at me, eating pieces of me slowly an inexorably. Reading the stories ofothers like me here I'm grateful that my situation is not "as bad" as those of others, but when something hurts like a flame at a certain point the temperature doesn't matter, it hurts the same because that's all you can bear. I pray for you all to be strong and to find a way out and remain whole, happy, healthy and find meaning in life. In my case it was my faith that kept me going. Salam alaykum, peace to you all.