My dad has been sober for years and everyone celebrates him as this inspirational success story, but I’m still angry at him and I feel guilty because he really did change. He drank through most of my childhood. He missed games, forgot promises, scared us when he drove, embarrassed my mom, ruined holidays.

He never hit us, which people sometimes say like it means we weren’t affected. We were. Then he finally got sober, went to meetings, apologized, rebuilt his life. He’s been reliable for a long time now. My siblings forgave him much more easily than I did.

They post anniversary messages about how proud they are of his sobriety. I am proud too, but there’s still a part of me that resents being expected to celebrate the man he became without grieving the father I didn’t have. Now he wants a closer relationship with me and sometimes says I “keep him at arm’s length.” He’s right.

I do. I don’t call when I’m struggling. I don’t trust promises automatically. If he says he’ll be somewhere, I still have this tiny thought that he might not show. He’s earned better than that, objectively. But my nervous system doesn’t care about objectivity.

I’ve been told forgiveness is for me, not him, but people say forgiveness like it’s a light switch. I can forgive him and still have consequences inside me. I can love the sober version of him and still be angry at the drunk version he got to leave behind while the rest of us kept the memories.