Hi, Reader.

It was during a simple round of putt-putt golf when I realized I had grief to process. At that point, I was already more than a decade into my healing journey, and it came out of nowhere.

I’m terrible at mini golf but I still love it. No one’s ever in a bad mood at a mini golf place!

All was well and then…bam.

Flashback to a night playing putt-putt golf when I was in high school. I was out with friends, smiling and laughing, but inside? I was a swirl of overwhelming worry. What’s going on at home? Is my sister okay? How drunk is Mom?

When I was with friends, I felt guilty for leaving home. Mom’s drinking caused chaos, and I felt it was my duty to be at home to make sure everyone was safe.

When I was at home, I felt resentful that I couldn’t be out with friends, having fun and not worrying about anything.

Fast-forward to my 30s at the putt-putt golf course. As a group of teenagers started playing at the hole behind us, their carefree laughter and banter transported me straight back to the year 2000 when I was there with my friends. I envied those kids for their lack of worry — for the freedom I never had as a teenager.

Tears filled my eyes. I couldn’t keep chatting or making jokes about my lack of putting skills. I ended the game early, only to let myself break down in the car, sobbing the whole way home.

That moment showed me something I hadn’t faced before:
It’s okay to grieve what you didn’t have back then.

Sometimes grief isn’t about what happened.​
It’s about what didn’t happen.

The hugs you never got.
The stability that never came.
The birthdays or milestones that went uncelebrated.
The parent who wasn’t emotionally present.

For adult children of alcoholics (or anyone from a dysfunctional family), this kind of grief is often called ambiguous grief. It can be confusing. But it’s valid. It’s real. And honoring it is an essential step in healing.

How to Grieve What You Never Had

Reader, if this hits home for you, you may be wondering: How do I actually grieve something I never experienced? Here are a few things that helped me:

1. Name the losses. Write down the specific things you didn’t get — like emotional safety, consistent love, or carefree childhood moments. Putting words to it gives your grief a place to go.
2. Let yourself feel. Tears, anger, and sadness are all part of the process. Allowing the emotions to move through you is part of healing.
3. Validate yourself. Remind yourself: My grief is real. I deserved those things. Self-compassion is key.
4. Create new experiences now. Celebrate your birthday the way you always wished someone had. Surround yourself with safe, supportive people. You can give yourself pieces of what was missing.
5. Seek support. Join a support group and and get a therapist to help you process these emotions without feeling alone.

Healing doesn’t mean pretending those losses don’t matter. It means acknowledging them, feeling them, and then gently creating new experiences that honor the life you deserve today.

You’re allowed to feel it.
You’re allowed to name it.
You’re allowed to grieve the childhood you never had.

Rooting for you, Reader.

Jody 💛

Author & Educator for Adult Children of Alcoholics

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