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After my parent’s divorce, I lived one week with each. My dad continued to drink. And be sad. He also had a fairly high exchange of “girlfriends” in the beginning. I think we as children become experts at keeping up the facade. We learn to smile to make others feel comfortable. No one knew how I really felt, and I remember feeling responsible for my dad’s well-being. I was so afraid that if I told him I wanted to live with my mom, he would feel so alone he might take his own life. So I stayed.