By Dan Weddle

We often talk about family inheritances in terms of money, property, or maybe a distinct physical trait like blue eyes or a certain jawline. We talk about the good things passed down from generation to generation.

But there is another kind of inheritance that people don't like to talk about. It’s the dark stuff. The baggage. The trauma. The addictions.

For my family, that inheritance was alcoholism.

It didn't start with my father. It went back to his mother—my grandmother—and likely before her. It was a hereditary chain that had shackled our family tree for generations. By the time it got to me, it felt inevitable. Statistically speaking, children of alcoholics are four times more likely than other children to become alcoholics themselves.

I was a kid growing up in the 70s in a broken home. My parents divorced when I was four, and in a rare move for the time, my dad got full custody of me. I looked up to him. I was a "daddy’s guy". But I also grew up watching him drink.

He was what you would call a "high-functioning" alcoholic. He went to work every day. He paid the bills. To the outside world, he seemed to have it together. But every night, he got hammered.

Growing up in that environment forces you to grow up fast. You stop being a child and start being a manager of someone else's chaos. I spent my childhood trying to anticipate his moods, managing the unpredictability, and feeling the anxiety that comes when the only adult in the room is out of control.

I remember the embarrassment. I wanted him to come to my football games because I craved his support, but I was terrified he’d show up drunk. It was a constant internal struggle—I wanted my dad there, but I didn't want that version of him there.

The Fork in the Road

When I became a young man, I stood at a fork in the road.

One path was wide and well-worn. It was the path my father took, and his mother before him. It was the path of least resistance—using alcohol to numb the pain of a broken family, the stress of work, and the hardships of life.

The other path was uncharted territory for a Weddle. It was the path of sobriety, of breaking the chain.

I looked at the destruction alcohol had caused in my dad's life. I saw the lost jobs, the strained relationships, the erratic behavior. I saw how it robbed me of a carefree childhood. And I decided, right then and there: It stops with me.

I made a conscious decision that I wasn't going to let this generational curse touch my children.

I’m not anti-drinking for other people. If you can handle a glass of wine with dinner, that’s great. But I know my DNA. I know my history. I don't drink because I don't like the way it feels to be out of control.

I have built too much to risk it all for a drink. I have been married to my wife, Mikki, for 33 years. I have raised four incredible sons. I run a successful company. I have grandchildren. I have overcome too much adversity to throw it away because I decided to flirt with a substance that destroyed my ancestors.

The Hard Work of Change

Breaking a cycle isn't just about not doing something. It’s about replacing a negative coping mechanism with positive discipline.

In high school, before I had fully matured, I didn't turn to the bottle, but I did turn to food. I ballooned up to 330 pounds because eating was how I dealt with the stress of my home life. When I decided to get healthy, I applied the same determination to losing weight that I later applied to staying sober. I walked miles every morning. I worked manual labor in the heat. I lost 150 pounds through sheer grit.

That experience taught me something vital: I can do hard things.

If I could change my body, I could change my destiny. If I could discipline my appetite, I could discipline my lifestyle.

This mindset carried me through my career in law enforcement, where the culture was heavy on drinking to cope with the trauma we saw on the streets. I had to be the guy who said "no" when the beers were being passed around the parking lot after a shift. It wasn't always the popular choice, but it was the necessary one.

The Real Legacy

Today, I look at my adult sons, and I see the victory.

None of my kids deal with heavy drinking. None of them have to worry about whether Dad is going to be sober for Christmas or if he’s going to embarrass them at a ball game.

We broke the cycle.

I missed out on having a father who nurtured me and mentored me. I missed that stage of manhood because my dad was checked out or influenced by his addiction. But my boys didn't miss it. They got a father who was present. They got a father who was clear-headed.

That is my greatest success. It’s not the $30 million company. It’s not the house on five acres. It’s the fact that when my grandkids look at their family tree, the branch that started with me is healthy.

Your Turn

I want to challenge you today. What is the "family heirloom" you are holding that you don't want to pass down?

Maybe it’s alcoholism. Maybe it’s a temper. Maybe it’s a poverty mindset, a history of divorce, or a habit of running away when things get hard.

You might feel like it’s inevitable. You might feel like it’s just "who you are" because it’s all you’ve ever known.

But you are not a slave to your history. You have the power to pivot. You have the power to say, "This stops with me."

It won’t be easy. You will have to fight against your own biology and your own upbringing. You might have to distance yourself from family members who are still stuck in the cycle. You might have to find new ways to cope with stress—like exercise, faith, or therapy.

But think about the generations coming after you. Think about the faces of your children or your future grandchildren. You have the opportunity to change their entire life trajectory by the decisions you make today.

I am living proof that you can change your family’s future. I was the kid in the broken home with the alcoholic dad. Statistically, I should have ended up just like him.

But I didn’t. And you don’t have to, either.

Dan Weddle is the author of Earned Wisdom, a memoir about family, resilience, and leadership. He is the CEO of ProTech Services Group.

Read more about how Dan broke the cycle of addiction and built a new legacy in his book: Earned Wisdom on Amazon