Today I heard that my father got drunk, took some ambien, then tried to drive home in his friend's car. He crashed, and his friend's wife called the cops.

We found a really good lawyer, and she helped make what could have been five years into six months.

My father has promised it will never happen again, along with the rest of my family, but it will. I don't think it's ever going to stop.

I wish he hadn't gone to jail. My four year old brother, Aiden, won't have his father for six months. He loves his dad most of all, and I'm going to hate it when he asks me where dad is. I'm going to hate watching him grow up while his father pulls the same shit around him that he did to my sister and I. I'm going to hate my father's homecoming, him being showered with forgiveness and love that he doesn't deserve.

I love him, good and bad. Without any of this, I wouldn't be myself today, and I'm okay. Sometimes I wish it was different. I wish Aiden didn't have to grow up with this. I wish my sister and I hadn't grown up with this. I wish he'd grow up and take responsibility for the people who love him. I wish he'd listen to me when I tell him how fucking horrible it can make me feel, and sometimes I just wish I could stop caring about him.

I don't know what my family is going to do.