Mike Diamond , 2025-06-25 13:51:00
When my son was born, I made a promise to myself and to him: the cycle of trauma and addiction stops now.
I was 12 years sober at the time. The path that got me there had been filled with abuse, shame, neglect, and reckless substance use.
But even though my story was heartbreaking, I knew his — my son’s — would be different and that he would never suffer from a lack of parental love or support in the way that I did.
Escaping my environment, building a new future
I come from a long line of family members with severe mental health and substance use disorders. They are all extremely talented, but very flawed, and they could never work those demons out.
Both my grandfathers died of alcoholism. When I was 4 years old, my grandmother got me drunk and nearly killed me, and I was blamed for it.
At school, I was a rising track star, but I also had dyslexia and struggled to keep up in the classroom. When I was in third grade, the teacher would make me stand in front of the class and read to everyone, but I couldn’t do it.
And no one advocated for me — not my teachers or my parents. Instead of saying to the teachers, “He has reading issues,” they’d say to me, “You’re not trying hard enough because you’re a good athlete.”
Worse still, my dad would unload on me when he came home from working a 12-hour day. Something I’d do would obviously trigger him, and he’d beat the crap out of me.
That’s why, from an early age, I knew I had to escape that environment by myself. I left Australia and built a new life in America.
Years later, when my wife got pregnant, the gravity of that impending responsibility felt terrifying. Before, I thought it was all about me. Suddenly, it was about “we.”
I wanted a girl, but I knew God would end up giving me a boy. Why? So I’d be forced to be the cycle-breaker — so that I wouldn’t do what my father did.
And indeed I got a boy. When I see him, I see what I needed when I was a child. I’ve never put my hands on him. I want to protect him at all costs.
A really big thing
I always say to people: “Being a parent is a process. You’re signing up for a really big thing. So, if you’re going to sign up for it, dig in, because you’re messing around with another life.”
My job as a father is to give my son a safe space to figure out who he wants to be when he grows up; to be there for him; coach him; be his best friend; and be a good role model.
I will teach him the skills he needs to be successful. I will teach him how to be a good human being. That’s my job.
Over the years, I’ve been careful to model the kind of behavior and choices I want him to see.
I also urge parents to understand they don’t have to fit the stereotype of being “down and out” and hitting the proverbial rock bottom in order to need treatment.
Even top professionals, including those in the health industry, can become dependent on substances while still appearing to manage their lives, not realizing this dependency can potentially damage their families and livelihoods.
There are numerous CEOs, doctors, nurses and other healthcare professionals who are functioning to an extent, but they still need treatment and shouldn’t be ashamed to seek it out.
In doing so, they will set a significant example for their children.
History doesn’t have to repeat — unless we let it
To any father that’s struggling right now, know this: your past doesn’t have to write your future. Help is out there, and you can change the trajectory of your life and that of your family. Addiction and trauma don’t have to be passed down to the next generation. The cycle can stop with you.
For many fathers, that will mean asking for help or going to treatment. I see fathers everyday who have taken that bold step for them and their families.
There are also meetings out there. If you’re afraid to go to a meeting in person, you can go online. There are amazing communities.
Don’t be ashamed. Remove the shame and forgive yourself for making mistakes. It’s part of the human experience. We’re all supposed to make mistakes.
Recently, I was asked what I would say to my son about my addiction when he gets older. I would say to my son very simply: I tried to escape my reality because my reality was so painful. And you don’t ever have to escape your reality because I’m always here for you.
A story of freedom
The biggest thing recovery taught me was to stay present. It’s one day at a time. I recently celebrated 19 years in recovery.
What I’ve learned? Recovery is a lifestyle. It’s about process and progression. There’s no perfection. It’s about showing up for yourself, so you can show up for others.
Recovery is making sure you’re healthy in all areas of life, so you can help others and be of service. Because we’re all recovering from something.
My story is one of millions — shaped by struggle, but not defined by it. What keeps me going is the hope that my son’s story will be one of freedom, not survival.
Photo credit: Flickr user makelessnoise
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