"Am I In Trouble?" Fear and hypervigilance in adult children of alcoholics (ACOAs)
Why do some of us see fault (or risk) everywhere we look? As many adult children of alcoholics know, fear and hypervigilance often take root as survival responses.
A writer friend recently mentioned the app she uses to help manage her productivity, and my ADHD brain was like, “Yeah, baby! Sign me up!” I recently installed that app on my laptop, but now, there’s a big problem.
Technically, the app doesn’t track my time. It acts as a prompt and serves as a receptacle for the input I give it. If I don’t enter the details of how I spend my time, there’s no report to review, no efficiency to analyze. However, that’s not the big problem.
I’m struggling with the fact that every time I leave one task and start another (or get up from my computer and come back), a little window pops up with four words in big, bold letters:
I feel triggered every single time I see those words — “What did you do?” — to the point I might need to delete the app. When I hear (or see) the phrase “What did you do?” I immediately assume I’m in trouble. I feel it in my body.
After a few days of this triggering business, I asked myself where it’s all coming from — and it hasn’t been hard to figure out.
My late, biological father, who was not a kind man (understatement!) often asked me that very question.
“Christine, what did you DO?”
His tone was rarely compassionate — and almost always accusatory:
He didn’t use an endearing tone like one might use after a child does something dumb and darling.
Or when catching a dog counter-surfing…
Whenever my dad asked, “What did you do?” I knew it wasn’t good — but I rarely knew what he was referring to. At least, not at first.
My father’s query often felt like a set-up — like a gameshow question I had to solve before the timer (a.k.a. his temper) went off. I’d quickly try to assess his facial expression…his tone…his alcohol intake…and our immediate surroundings — silently analyzing what it was that he *might* be suggesting I’d done.
If I responded, “What do you mean by ‘What did you do?’” or countered with, “I didn’t do anything!” — things never ended well. Trust me on this.
Did I inadvertently file his Queen album in front of Alan Parsons Project?
Had I accidentally left the record player on?
Had I not done something I was expected to do?
Had I left a mess somewhere?
For many children of alcoholics, we have to navigate the confusing maze of what was, what is, and what someone unreasonably believes should have happened.
In the moments before I’d figure out what I’d done “wrong”, I felt like I had zero control, certainty, agency, or safety. Since these moments happened with such unpredictable frequency, I was constantly scanning my surroundings, hoping that the act of anticipating danger and potential missteps was protection enough against future accusations, uncertainty, and a lack of security.
It wasn’t.
So often, I was *guilty* of simply being human — but I didn’t yet have the wisdom to recognize this. Instead, whenever I’d hear, “Christine, what did you DO?” I felt waves of guilt, shame, and personal responsibility. In another post, perhaps, I’ll explore theories about attachment styles of children of alcoholics — including fearful-avoidant and dismissed-avoidant attachment styles — but for this post, I’ll keep the spotlight on hypervigilance.
According to a 2023 article published by The Cleveland Clinic, Dr. Susan Albers, PsyD, describes hypervigilance as a heightened state of awareness. “It’s your brain’s way of protecting you by scanning the environment for signs of danger and being extremely aware of your surroundings,” she explained, and the manifestations can be mental and physical. Think of it as your gut instinct gone haywire.
“Hypervigilance is a basic human survival mechanism,” Dr. Albers continued. “It allows us to sense predators and threats to our safety. But with hypervigilance, you feel like you’re constantly under threat.” The brain’s region for overseeing emotions — the amygdala — shifts into overdrive.
As I mastered hypervigilance as a kid, I was too busy noticing my environment to even notice that I was hyperfocused on my environment (irony!). And so, I failed to develop a solid sense of self. Only later — when someone noticed me noticing all the little details that many others don’t — would I come to realize that my reactive, externally-driven operating system was…unlike many others.
From a very early age, I cataloged conversations, took mental notes, and fine-tuned my skills in both facial and tone recognition. I wanted always needed to feel crystal clear about what my alcoholic parent said at the beginning of any given night so that, if he ended up slurring and/or accusing me of something later on, I wouldn’t lose myself in the crazymaking borne from an alcoholic rant.
By the time I was a teen, I could discern
a) how much alcohol Dad consumed by hearing his voice through a telephone line
b) how likely a conversation was to bottom out, and
c) how best to end said conversation (often by staying quiet, calm, and agreeable — or else waiting for the alcoholic parent to pass out).
Of utmost importance? Having data and/or evidence to defend myself or disprove an accusation.
Now that I’m an adult, I can see how my “background” in hypervigilance has served me well, particularly as a journalist and writer. I don’t always get things right, but I often “tune in” to others very quickly. I can pick up on nuances, tones, subtexts, and deeper meanings that some cannot. And, I can often look someone in the eye and sense if they’re bullshitting me.
I like to describe my 20s and 30s (after I’d cut my father out of my life but before I’d found my authentic voice) as the years I wrestled with learning how to express my deepest feelings without shame or hesitation. As I practiced when and where to speak up, I began to understand how much was “too much”.
That’s when it ever-so-slowly dawned on me: The chaotic environment my father cultivated was not everyone’s experience.
In my young adulthood, I stumbled through interpersonal relationships, trying to hold dual space in my heart for both grief (for the “normal” childhood experiences I didn’t have) and relief (that I’d survived). Some people recognized what I’d been through long before I ever did; others had neither the tolerance, patience, nor ability to understand my circumstances.
In my 40s, after learning skills in Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), I finally accepted that I am an adult child of an alcoholic and that I am capable of navigating an uncertain world from a deep, inner sense of safety and certainty. I learned to trust my instincts.
There are still times I get tripped up, though. This new, silly, time-tracking app is one such example. I’m grateful I have the presence of mind to understand when I’m triggered — and to offer myself compassion when my awareness of a trigger takes some time to show up.
Healing from living with an alcoholic parent is a lifelong journey, one that often results in hypervigilance. I continue to work on — and strengthen — my understanding of the space between hypervigilance and paying attention.
For instance: This goofy timing app isn’t ALL bad. I’m glad it prompts me to notice how I spend my time. Maybe I won’t delete it just yet. Maybe, just maybe, the more time I spend with the question “What did you do?” the more I’ll remember that I’m not in trouble after all.
Christine Wolf is a memoir-writing coach and the author of Politics, Partnerships, & Power: The Lives of Ralph E. and Marguerite Stitt Church. She leads Write To Heal retreats and workshops and speaks to groups about the power of expressive writing to heal. Get in touch at www.christinewolf.com/contact.
References
Alcoholism Statistics. (2013). Family Alcoholism Statistics. Retrieved March 20, 2024, from Alcoholism Statistics: http://www.alcoholism-statistics.com/family-statistics/
Dayton, D. T. (2015, April 29). Adult Children of Alcoholics and Trauma. Retrieved March 20, 2024, from HuffPost: https://www.huffpost.com/entry/adult-children-of-alcohol_b_6676950
Kelley ML, L. A.-B. (2014). Self and Partner Alcohol-related Problems Among ACOAs and Non-ACOAs: Associations with Depressive Symptoms and Motivations for Alcohol Use. Addictive Behavior, 211-218.
You may come to terms with the question, but do you really need that aggravation right now? No, you don't. I would drop that app like a hot potato. You're welcome.
While I know it's a trauma reaction, on balance, I am happy I have hypervigilance on board. Driving/traffic, navigating crowds, judge of character, getting a "vibe," reading a room, spidey sense galore. Typos, patterns, info, semi-photographic memory. I'll take it.