Dear Red Straw

She drank herself numb on rum and Coke, calling us pet names as though they could shield us from the wreckage... He resented us for getting in the way-of his woman, his whiskey, and the peace he thought waited at the bottom of that skinny red straw. Your childhood was anything but ordinary; the aftershocks didn’t stop just because you grew up. In some homes, sitting down means checking the couch for hidden steak knives. Maybe your father told you, ＂I’ll always love your mother more than I love you＂-and you believed it. Maybe you lingered in relationships where lying felt like love and chaos felt like home. You’re still giving everything-not because it feels right, but because walking away feels too cruel, even as it drains every part of you. Maybe you keep saving an aging alcoholic who acts like a reckless teenager-drunk, defiant, and only sober enough to make you feel like it’s all your fault. Life calms down, blows up, and then calms down again. That’s not peace-it’s the same nightmare on repeat. Dear Red Straw is part memoir, part mirror, and part rebellion against generational trauma. Through raw stories, blunt truths, and a series of unfiltered letters between alcoholics and the people they’ve hurt, it breaks down what it means to love, grieve, forgive-and walk away when you have to. It’s a direct, no-bullshit look at the damage alcoholism leaves behind-and what it takes to heal without faking, excusing, or losing yourself in the process. Inside, you won’t find easy answers or step-by-step solutions. What you will find is a gut-punch-page after page that forces you to confront the questions you’ve been avoiding, like why you let them treat you like that, why silence feels safer than speaking up, and why their chaos still runs your life. You’ll see the patterns, the pressure, and the pain-laid bare. Maybe somewhere in these pages, you’ll hit your turning point-the moment you stop surviving for them and start living for you. Healing doesn’t require permission. Understanding gives you power. And hope is still yours to claim.