At 7 o'clock on a Thursday evening, a Zoom meeting commences - one of the countless virtual gatherings that have become routine in today’s digital age. But this is no ordinary meeting; here, in an Adult Children of Alcoholics/Dysfunctional Families (ACA) meeting, strangers become allies, bound together by the shared legacy of growing up with alcoholic parents. They gather not just to remember, but to heal those wounded children within who still carry yesterday's pain. The meeting begins with a gentle notice that non-ACA members may be present, acknowledging observers while maintaining the integrity of the space. Then, in unison, the group recites the ACA serenity prayer: “God, grant me the serenity to accept the people I cannot change, the courage to change the one I can, and the wisdom to know that one is me.” The subtle twist on the traditional serenity prayer is striking - this version places the power and responsibility for change squarely on the individual. It serves as a powerful reminder that while the past cannot be changed and others may be beyond one's control, each person retains agency over their own healing journey. The meeting proceeds to ‘The Laundry List’ - 14 traits common among adult children of alcoholics. These traits, which range from fear of authority figures to becoming ‘para-alcoholics’ who adopt characteristics of alcoholism without drinking, serve as a diagnostic tool - a mirror reflecting common patterns that emerge in children raised in alcoholic homes. Stories of survival The heart of the meeting lies in sharing. Two moderators begin by offering their own experiences, creating a safe space for others to follow. Over the next hour, what unfolds is a series of two-minute windows into lives marked by childhood trauma but defined by resilience. Some of the ACA members share their stories with indianexpress.com. ‘Had to develop a sense of self’ “When you are not protected and nurtured in the way other children are, like from a more functional family, the way you perform as adults in your own lives becomes really different,” a woman, 28, explains, her voice steady despite the weight of her words. Growing up with an alcoholic father, her childhood was marked by various forms of abuse and neglect. The impact manifested in ways that continue to shape her adult life: anxiety, difficulty making decisions, constant self-doubt, and a persistent fear of abandonment. “At a job, one can constantly fear that I am not performing well or feel like an imposter,” she shares. “In a relationship, it might constantly feel like this person might leave me.” As the eldest daughter, she found herself falling into the role of family caretaker - a common pattern among children from alcoholic homes. This ‘parentification’, as she describes it, meant sacrificing her childhood to manage the emotional climate of her household. The effects rippled through her relationships, leading to a pattern of people-pleasing and toxic relationships. The woman's journey to ACA began in 2016 after she reached what she describes as “emotional rock bottom.” The programme offered something she had not found elsewhere: a community of people who truly understood. After years of working on herself through both ACA and therapy, she has created boundaries and rebuilt her life. “I have had to develop a sense of self and lots of self-love to separate physically, emotionally, mentally from my family,” she says. ‘Walked around eggshells, lied to people’ The story of a 32-year-old woman reveals how dysfunction is not always tied to substance abuse. While her family did not struggle with alcoholism directly, the behavioural patterns mirrored those of alcoholic households. “Their behaviour is like an alcoholic. I think it is this rage that one of my parents has, which for no reason would explode. And then everyone had to adjust to that. We all would have to walk on eggshells around it, lie to people,” she says. “If I tried to speak up or express that something was wrong, it was brushed off as one of my tantrums,” she says, adding that this led to a pattern of self-doubt where she began questioning her reality. Coming from an upper-middle-class family, her story challenges the notion that dysfunction only exists in certain socioeconomic contexts. Despite her academic achievements, including pursuing a PhD abroad, she knew from an early age that she needed to escape her home environment. Her childhood was marked by verbal and physical abuse, as well as sexual molestation – a trauma she felt unsafe sharing with anyone. “I never revealed to my father that my mom was doing all of this to me because it felt like he would abandon me as well,” she explains. The impact on her adult life has been profound. “I was seeking love from all the wrong places. I just never got it at home,” she says. Her journey through recovery began after reaching a point of burnout and exhaustion. “I would find a thing or a person or a degree or a lifestyle and be like, this is what is going to save me; it is going to give me the safety, the security, the identity, and finally, I don’t have to live with the shame and the horror,” she explains. This pattern led to overwork and eventual breakdown, which brought her to ACA. From unbearable pain to self-acceptance “The disease is generational in nature,” explains a 71-year-old, his voice carrying the weight of hard-won wisdom. “It just seamlessly passes on to the next generation,” he adds. While his parents were not alcoholics, the consequences mimicked that of being raised by alcoholic parents. He says his mother struggled with addiction to snuff in his early years and, more significantly, what he describes as an “addiction to rage and anger.” Growing up in a household marked by occasional violence between his parents and his mother’s frequent outbursts, he developed deep-seated feelings of shame and guilt – emotions he would spend decades trying to understand. “All my life I could not understand ‘Where is all this guilt and shame coming from?’” he reflects. The impact of this early trauma manifested in various ways throughout his life. One harrowing memory stands out: at age 14, his mother hit him with a slipper in front of the landlord’s son while he was playing table tennis. “You don’t hit a child, a boy who is 14, in front of other people, not with the chappal on his face,” he says, the old hurt still evident in his voice. His journey into alcoholism illustrates how early trauma can lead to destructive coping mechanisms. “The pain had by then started becoming unbearable,” he recalls. By his late thirties, he was drinking heavily, a pattern that would continue until he was 51 years old. This progression mirrors one of the key traits identified in ACA: the tendency for adult children to either become alcoholics themselves or find themselves drawn to addictive personalities. Today, after 20 years of sobriety and extensive work on himself, the senior citizen has achieved something remarkable: genuine self-acceptance and emotional independence. ‘I have lived a victim’s life’ “Don’t talk, don’t feel, don’t trust.” These three rules, a 52-year-old explains, became the invisible framework of his childhood in a home dominated by alcoholism. Growing up with an alcoholic father, his earliest memories are coloured by a constant state of uncertainty and fear. “I could not go to anyone’s house, and I could not call anyone home,” he recalls, describing how his father’s alcoholism created barriers to normal social development. “Even in school, if I wanted to enter, I could not talk to others or pay fees,” he says. These early experiences of shame and isolation would shape his relationships for decades to come. The impact of financial instability was particularly profound. While his peers enjoyed normal childhood experiences, his primary concern was more basic: “I just wanted my dad to come home safe.” As the eldest child, he shouldered responsibilities far beyond his years. The abuse he endured took multiple forms – physical, verbal, and what he describes as the most devastating: “silent abuse”. “In adulthood, in relationships, if my partner is not talking to me or if I get angry, I used to say, at least tell me what my mistake is. I used to cry about this,” he says. Following a pattern common to many adult children of alcoholics, he eventually developed his struggles with alcohol. His journey to recovery began at rock bottom – homeless, sleeping on train platforms in Mumbai, working for Rs 50 a day. It was there he encountered the 12-step programme that would eventually lead him to ACA. “I have lived a victim’s life, and my friends will also become victims,” he reflects, describing how he would be drawn to people in pain, recreating the caretaking role he had assumed in childhood. The programme helped him identify and work through these patterns, leading to insights into his past and present behaviours. ‘Became averse to relationships’ “The uncertainty and constant changing of the environment kept me on my toes,” a 55-year-old woman recalls. Growing up with parents consumed by their struggles, she says she developed a hypervigilance that shaped her adult life. Her childhood, marked by parental alcoholism and neglect, left her vulnerable to abuse. “I became absolutely averse to relationships,” she says, referring to what she now recognises as ‘sexual anorexia’ – an inability to form intimate connections due to early trauma. From a young age, she took control of her volatile home environment. “I started taking charge of situations.I would be five steps ahead,” she recalls. This premature adulthood cost her dearly. Once a talented artist, her creative outlets faded, and although she excelled professionally, her hypervigilance prevented meaningful workplace connections. “I was not a team player. I was a solo worker,” she says. At 41, she hit a breaking point, with severe health issues and a wake-up call when her sister refused to let her hold her granddaughter. “I was puking blood, could not eat, and my weight dropped,” she says. She now understands that living in crisis elevated her adrenaline and cortisol levels, contributing to her anxiety, depression, and arthritis. “There are scientific studies which prove that people who live in crisis have elevated levels of adrenaline and cortisol,” she explains. Today, she advocates recognising the universal impact of childhood trauma, emphasising that core wounds like shame, abandonment, and guilt persist, whether caused by alcoholism, addiction, or other factors. Through ACA, she helps others heal, focusing on the recovery of body, mind, and spirit. The professional perspective Personal stories from ACA members highlight the impact of growing up with alcoholic parents, while experts shed light on the broader effects of this inherited trauma. Dr Pramod Mahajan, an ENT surgeon who has supported ACA for many years mentions, "For someone raised in an environment with alcoholism, they may not recognise that these issues stem from their childhood. They may not feel the need to seek help on their own. Usually, it’s someone close to them - a friend or family member - who encourages them to attend meetings or seek support." Neha Cadabam, senior psychologist at Cadabam’s Mindtalk, explains that such children often face “inconsistent care, emotional neglect, and chaotic environments”, leading to anxiety, confusion, and low self-esteem. Research also shows they are at greater risk for depression and aggression. Long-term, they may struggle with trust, relationships, and emotional suppression, sometimes developing attachment disorders. Sonal Khangarot, a licensed rehabilitation counsellor, adds that these children often develop a need to “fix” others, rooted in their own feelings of inadequacy and fear of abandonment. Hyper-responsibility and co-dependency may follow, with individuals replicating unhealthy relationship patterns, struggling with boundaries, and finding it hard to establish healthy dynamics. Breaking the cycle “ACA provides a safe space where individuals can be heard, seen, and feel comfortable being themselves,” says Khangarot. This environment fosters acknowledgement and validation, encouraging healthier behaviours. The ACA 12-step programme helps individuals gain self-awareness, heal emotionally, and rebuild self-esteem. Cadabam notes, “A study by Johnson (2001) found that participation in 12-step groups can improve psychological functioning and reduce symptoms of anxiety and depression.” Narrative therapy in groups also empowers participants to reshape their life stories, breaking free from family-imposed narratives. As the meeting ends with the serenity prayer, it is clear that these gatherings not only reflect the lasting impact of growing up in alcoholic homes but also the potential to heal.
