Children Who Grew Up in Bars

I was a kid who grew up in a bar. It was the family business, owned by my parents. The bar was attached to the house and I lived there from birth to the time I left for college.

Now, decades later, I feel depressed and unhappy. I feel unsatisfied with my career and most of my social relationships. To use a figure of speech, my life is going nowhere. Looking back, I don't think my life ever went anywhere to begin with. I've thought about this for years and I feel pretty confident that one of the major root causes comes from my upbringing in a saloon.

This is something that I want to talk about but have never found anybody who understands. I've been to, probably, six or eight therapists since I was in my mid-twenties. None of them ever seemed to understand. They always focus on alcoholism or substance abuse but never the real problem: Abhorrent behavior, normalized.

Yes, I understand about alcohol and alcoholism. I've had problems with drinking but let's just say that me and Ol' John Barleycorn see things eye to eye and leave it at that.

Everybody I have ever tried to talk to has had romantic ideas what bars are like. They think bars are like what they see on TV shows like "Cheers" or in movies like "The Tender Bar." Sorry, folks! I call BS! My life, growing up, was NOTHING like those stories!

I can tell you the real stories. Some of them are funny or poignant like you see in TV or movies but a lot of them would be real down and dirty stuff like seeing your father in a bar fight. I don't want to tell those stories, right now. Maybe later. Maybe I could write a book but it would have to be classified as fiction because nobody would believe they are really true.

Is there anybody out there who has grown up in a bar or saloon? I can't remember ever having a meaningful conversation with anybody, not even a therapist.

(Apologies if this is the wrong forum section. Mods, please move this topic to a more appropriate place if necessary.)

I have no doubt that it was not as rosy as what people see in movies or on TV. And I imagine that you've seen and heard far more than you really should have. I had a grandparent whose parents owned what was essentially a bar establishment for a time- her older sister described it as being really quite scary. I work in the alcohol industry now and have had to deal with drunk patrons- not everyone's a "happy drunk".

Skyway65 wrote:This is something that I want to talk about but have never found anybody who understands. I've been to, probably, six or eight therapists since I was in my mid-twenties. None of them ever seemed to understand. They always focus on alcoholism or substance abuse but never the real problem: Abhorrent behavior, normalized.

I've been through a lot of therapists to find the right ones to help me. I met a lot that had no idea what they were doing and really actually did more damage. As much as starting again with someone new is horrible, I'd really encourage you to try searching for another. I found someone who specialises in trauma, and it's made huge difference to my progress- I didn't realise just how much I was carrying with me. Or how much things that other therapists had dismissed as "not important" were still affecting me years later.

lilyfairy wrote:I met a lot that had no idea what they were doing and really actually did more damage.

Yeah! I know what you mean!

I person I know wanted to go to a therapist but was afraid to go by them self so I went with them. They were afraid because they had, once, been taken into protective custody because they mentioned suicide. I drove them to the therapist and sat with them during their first session.

About twenty minutes into the session, the therapist asked if there were any questions. I said that my friend was afraid because they were put on 'psychiatric hold' just for merely talking about suicide. The therapist's answer was, "Well... If I have reason to believe that somebody is in danger of harming themselves or others, I am obliged to report them..."

Stupid therapist! The therapeutic relationship was irrevocably DESTROYED in the first visit! How the hell can a person feel comfortable talking to a stranger when they have a fear in the back of their mind that 'men in white coats' could come and haul them away at any second!?

My friend went for the 'obligatory' five sessions but didn't go back, afterward. Hasn't seen a therapist, since. I don't think they ever will, after that episode!

Myself, I had a therapist fall asleep during a session, WHILE I WAS TALKING TO HIM! I got up and, without a word, walked out and left him sleeping in his chair. I never went back. I didn't even return the bastard's phone calls.

I'm telling you! Most therapists I have ever met are bloody clueless!

Let me tell you a story...

I was in the bar, one afternoon, after school. I was supposed to be sitting at the end of the bar doing my homework. I wasn't actually doing my work. I was sitting there, drinking beer from a Coke can. I was, probably, sixteen or seventeen at the time. My mother was tending bar. There were two regulars, drinking and shooting the $#%^. One of them was a truck driver. The other was President of the Township Board of Supervisors.

In walks this old reprobate, already half in the bag. He'd probably been kicked out of some other place, already. He was an old, hard-boiled bastard. The kind of guy who walked around, jingling the change in his pocket. His voice was like gravel from chain smoking.

The guy has a couple of beers and starts getting loud... "You bastard....this...a-hole...that..." I'm sure you get the picture.

My mother got fed up and shut the guy off. Back in the day, we had a certain way of shutting off a drunk. You pour a 'short glass,' probably only about two swigs worth, and give it to the guy, on the house and say, "This is your last one. Come back tomorrow." That's how we use to give a guy the chance to save face. Right?

Anyhow, this old bastard started shouting at my mother... "You BITCH...######6 WHORE!"... She went off on the guy! She threw the beer in his face and shoved him over, backward, off the bar stool! The guy is laying on the floor like a turtle. Mom comes around the bar, grabs him by the shirt collar and starts kicking him in the ass. "Get the ###$ out of my bar!" She pulls the guy up, and starts kicking him toward the door. She opens the door and the guy is standing there, teetering at the edge of the front stairs. "Don't come back or I'll call the COPS!" She gives him one more kick in the ass and he goes, head over heels, down the front steps! She slams the door and locks it.

Meanwhile, the two regulars who had been enjoying a peaceful afternoon were just standing there with their arms crossed, just watching the whole scene unfold. Two minutes, later, everybody was back at the bar, watching football on TV like nothing ever happened. Nobody said a word for, probably another fifteen minutes, until somebody looked up at my mom and said, "Gimme' another beer."

This is the kind of crap that used to happen on a regular basis. It didn't happen every day, mind you, but often enough to remember. When I was younger, we used to laugh about it. "Hey! Do you remember that time when Mom threw a drunk down the stairs?" Now, more than forty years later, I can understand just how warped life was, growing up in a bar.

This is why I struggle, nowadays, but nobody gets it. Certainly not the therapist who fell asleep.

Skyway65 wrote:About twenty minutes into the session, the therapist asked if there were any questions. I said that my friend was afraid because they were put on 'psychiatric hold' just for merely talking about suicide. The therapist's answer was, "Well... If I have reason to believe that somebody is in danger of harming themselves or others, I am obliged to report them..."

Stupid therapist! The therapeutic relationship was irrevocably DESTROYED in the first visit! How the hell can a person feel comfortable talking to a stranger when they have a fear in the back of their mind that 'men in white coats' could come and haul them away at any second!?

There is a big difference though between discussing that suicidal or harming thoughts are there, and planning or intending to acting upon them. If I'd been hospitalised every time I'd mentioned having thoughts without any intentions of following through, I would have spent a lot of time in hospital. If the therapist can't make the distinction between the two, then they're not doing their job properly. But that's another tangent I could go off on and I won't right now...

Would getting in touch with somewhere like Al-Anon be something that could help? It is largely intended for family or friends of someone with alcohol issues, but they are people who've dealt with the fallout of someone else's alcohol problems. Maybe it's an avenue to possibly find others who have witnessed similar things, just in a different environment?

Yes, that's what I tried to tell my friend. There's a difference between talking about suicide and actually planning to do it. When a therapist considers whether a person is actually suicidal they can't (shouldn't) act unless the person is in imminent danger of carrying out the act.

The problem was that my friend had already been place in protective custody, before, just for mentioning it. The practitioner asked whether my friend felt like committing suicide and they said, "Well...sometimes...I guess..." and the person pulled the trigger. The next thing you know, the cops were at their door.

When my friend and I visited the new therapist, I knew this. Even before we went there, my friend told me that they were afraid of being committed, again. During that first session, the therapist asked if there were any questions. That's when I brought it up. When the therapist replied with a pat answer, I instantly knew that it was all over. There would be no way my friend would ever trust that therapist!

I am still trying to help my friend get therapy. For myself, too. Unfortunately, in the area where we live, there aren't many options outside of the standard Social Services organizations but they aren't very good, as I have said. I had a therapist from the same place, before. I went for a while but the people there are more concerned with taking care of the indigent, homeless or people with severe conditions. "Normal" people aren't very high on their list of priorities. The therapist I was seeing had to cancel our appointment, one time, because of an emergency situation with another patient.

There are private therapists in this area but our insurance doesn't cover more than a few visits before you have to pay out of pocket. When you live paycheck to paycheck, like I do, private therapists just aren't an option.

I have been to AA, Al-Anon and NA meetings before. They were somewhat helpful but it's hard to talk about the things I need to talk about in places like that. When you start telling stories about watching your mother kick a drunk out of a bar, the room gets really quiet. Most people think I'm making these things up. Self-help groups like Al-Anon just aren't the venue for talk like that. Y'know?

Just recently, a couple-few weeks ago, some friends at work were talking about the 'Harry Potter' movies where Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting in Hogsmeade pub, drinking butterbeer. The question was whether butterbeer was alcoholic or not.

First off, let's just make it clear that we're talking about fiction. Harry Potter doesn't really exist, except in books and movies. There isn't really such a thing as butterbeer. I'm only talking about the social aspects of such a scene in a movie.

Harry Potter and his friends are ADOLESCENTS! They can't be much older than high school age. At best, they would be college freshmen or sophomores. It doesn't matter whether butterbeer would be alcoholic or not. Teenagers should not be going to pubs! PERIOD!

Also, I am aware that my upbringing colors my outlook. Yes, I grew up in a tough place. I understand that other people don't see things with a jaundiced eye, as I do.

To me scenes from movies, like this, only highlight the disconnect between people's perceptions and reality. Bars are places where people go to drink, smoke and cheat on their spouses. The concepts of socialization and fun that we see in movies is nothing more than a pipe dream.

I moved out of the bar where I grew up when I returned home from college. The place has been sold off and I haven't been back there for forty years but the place still haunts me.

Just the ways that a kid learns to interact with others can poison the rest of their life.

I, sometimes, get upset at the idyllic way that people seem to think about bars, pubs, nightclubs and the like. Sure, for adults, it can be like that if you want it to be. You go there, have a couple of drinks, shoot the bull for a while. You meet people, you have fun but, afterward, you go home. If the place is too seedy for your taste, you don't have to go back. You can find some other place that's more to your liking. For a kid, what happens when they CAN'T LEAVE?! The bar is your home! You're trapped there!

When your mother is behind the bar, slinging brewskies, as guys are standing three deep at the rail, shouting "Gimme' a beer" and your father is outside, in the back seat of a car with the waitress who should be inside, helping, your attitude changes.

Let me make it crystal clear... This is not just about alcohol. Alcohol, I understand. I don't drink very much, anymore because, like I said, me and Ol' John Barleycorn see things eye to eye. On the rare occasions when I do drink, I'm basically "one and done."

I'm talking about the warped sense of reality that comes with working and living in bars, in places where people go to drink and act like A-holes.

Growing up around alcohol certainly is a problem but the atmosphere that pervades a place like that is much more damaging to a kid's sense of self.