Newtown, Connecticut Most of us never even know this town excited. After yesterday, it's a solemn place no one can stop thinking about, praying about and sending their love to. My heart has been heavy ever since I heard it on the radio yesterday that at least a dozen elementary students were shot and killed (later to find out 20 children were killed). Everything about this event is unimaginably tragic and it hits so close to home with every parent, teacher, school administrator, friend and family member because this could have happened in any town, at any school.. to your child, your baby sister/brother, your friend.. I can't even begin to list the amount of ways this weighs on my heart, as well as the rest of America.
No one can tell you why this happened. And everyone has their own thoughts and opinions on what needs to be done to prevent these tragedies, that as Americans, we know all too well, from happening. One piece of this that breaks my heart is the fact that shootings are all too common. We've seen them in schools, places of worships, malls, movie theaters on the street corners and I've even seen one happen in my own home. This is where the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School starts to hit so close to me home for me.
I was only six years old when my mother was shot in our farm house right outside our small little town in the middle of Iowa while I was curled up in a box, under a table in the basement trying to hide with my cousins and my brother. I know what I lost that day. I was very fortunate that I did not lose my mother but I lost my simple idea that our world is safe. And that monsters only live in our closets and under our beds but are easily scared away by having our mommies and daddies check for them.
I weep for the children who did lose their lives that day as well as for the children who now have first hand experience that world is not all good, that there are people out there who want to hurt others and who are capable of hurting others. This is a fact of life children should not have to learn at such a young age.
I have many fears about the affect this event will have on our country as well as the families directly involved and affected by the shooting, but one fear that I have is that the children who were traumatized that day, more than a lot of people ever will be in their life, won't get the help they need and will never feel safe again.
After my mom was shot, I haven't ever felt completely safe since that day. I'm 22 years old and I still have to sleep with a night light on as well as sound on but I can't have the sound from my TV be too high because then I won't be able to hear if someone is in my house. I can't walk by windows at night because I'm terrified someone is lurking outside waiting for me to walk by so they can shoot me through the window. Anytime I see someone start to show even a little aggression when they are drinking (my mom's shooter was an alcoholic as well as a drug addict), I immediately think they are really going to try and hurt someone. I feel that way anytime I see a fist raise or even a voice begin to yell because I know a fight that starts off as a normal fight, can end in tragedy. The man who shot my mom, I loved him a lot. He was my father-figure during the time my mom was in a relationship with him and he provided for me, hugged me, made me laugh and told me he loved me. I now live with the fear that someone I love dearly and who loves me, can hurt me really badly if ever pushed to that point.
I can't say exactly how the child survivors will be affected, because each person responds differently. Some children will be horribly affected for a little while but will be able to work through it, some children may be affected their whole lives. And then there will be children all in between there. But in one capacity or another, every single child will be affected. Many may never feel safe in a school again. If they were hiding in the bathroom with their classmates and teacher, every time they walk into a bathroom, it may remind them of this tragic day.
Knowing what I have gone through because I lived through my mom's finance coming to our farm house and shooting my mom then killing himself when I was there, it absolutely breaks my heart that these children have to live through a similar, unfathomable, tragic, horrendous, life changing event and will forever be affected.
Their innocence and belief that the world is a safe, happy place and you live until your 100 years old is gone. And can never be restored. That is what truly what is weighing my heart so far down. I pray that every child and every person traumatized by this gets the help, support and love they need to come out on the better side of this.
RIP To All The Children Who Received Their Wings Way Too Soon and To All The Adults Whose Lives Ended Before It Was Time <3
To every single person who has been affected, remember "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds."
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Sunday, November 25, 2012
The Outsider, The Exception
The more I start to learn about my family and other people I know who have grown up similar to have.. I'm starting to feel like I'm the exception rather than the rule.
Growing up with a single, drug addicted mother and in and out of foster homes.. yet I've never tried any drugs other than alcohol and I've graduated college. Everyone else I know who had the same or similar up bringing to me, have at least tried drugs once, sold drugs, are addicted to drugs and didn't go to a four year school.
I'm not bringing this up to brag. I'm bringing this because why is that I have to be an exception? Why can't I be the rule? What happens to these children to make them turn to drugs to get through life? What happens to them that they lose sight of college or making any long term goals? Where was it that they slipped through the cracks? And why didn't it happen to me?
I've learned a lot the past few weeks about my family. Information I never would think to be true. And it's nearly impossible for me to wrap my mind around. They know drugs are bad. In multiple ways, yet they're still involved with them somehow. Or even tried them.
Lately, I've been around drugs a lot more than I can remember since I've become detached from a lot of mom's family. And I've been experiencing the weirdest.. what's the word.. cravings? curiosity? about drugs.. ya know.. what's it like to get high? to do some molly? what's it like to trip on mushrooms? I bet I'd like it or so I hear.
I've been trying to process these thoughts because these are thoughts I've never endured before in my life. When I think about it.. almost every other person I know who had drugs so embedded in their childhood, never got out of that lifestyle. They lived with parents who did drugs up until they were 18. They were in consistent contact with other family members who abused drugs. The friends they had were drug users. The lifestyle of drugs was constantly surrounding them.
What makes me different than the other people I know is I got out of that lifestyle when I was 8 years old, when I went to live with my dad. My dad didn't use drugs. We went to "normal" family reunions that were filled with love and laughter. Drugs were no longer in my everyday life. Was I still affected by them? Absolutely. My mother was still a meth addict. But I wasn't with her everyday being dragged through that lifestyle. I was living in a completely drug free environment.
So maybe, the more you are around it, the more "normal" and "acceptable" it becomes and when kids of drug addicts say "It's all I've ever known" they really mean that. When mad, sad, upset or even happy.. the way you deal with it is through doing drugs. The way you make your money is through selling drugs. The way you make friends is by getting high together. So, why wouldn't that child grow up not having the idea that drugs are bad? Do pretty much all kids of drug addicts experience trauma and are affected negatively by drugs while growing up? Yes, it's unavoidable. But.. it's still just... normal.
If I didn't move in with my dad when I was 8, I really have no clue where I'd be right now. As much as I loved my mother and all the times I cried because I wanted to live with her, it really was a blessing that I was lucky enough to experience a new life. While being raised around drugs has made me into the person I am today, being able to live, grow and shape in a drug-clean environment allowed me to prosper.
What makes me different than the other people I know is I got out of that lifestyle when I was 8 years old, when I went to live with my dad. My dad didn't use drugs. We went to "normal" family reunions that were filled with love and laughter. Drugs were no longer in my everyday life. Was I still affected by them? Absolutely. My mother was still a meth addict. But I wasn't with her everyday being dragged through that lifestyle. I was living in a completely drug free environment.
So maybe, the more you are around it, the more "normal" and "acceptable" it becomes and when kids of drug addicts say "It's all I've ever known" they really mean that. When mad, sad, upset or even happy.. the way you deal with it is through doing drugs. The way you make your money is through selling drugs. The way you make friends is by getting high together. So, why wouldn't that child grow up not having the idea that drugs are bad? Do pretty much all kids of drug addicts experience trauma and are affected negatively by drugs while growing up? Yes, it's unavoidable. But.. it's still just... normal.
If I didn't move in with my dad when I was 8, I really have no clue where I'd be right now. As much as I loved my mother and all the times I cried because I wanted to live with her, it really was a blessing that I was lucky enough to experience a new life. While being raised around drugs has made me into the person I am today, being able to live, grow and shape in a drug-clean environment allowed me to prosper.
And I know I'm not the only exception out there.. And I'm not saying all people who do pot or other drugs are bad or unsuccessful.. I just can't help but wonder why I am so different than the other people I know. I'm not better than them. I'm not smarter than them. I'm not anything more than them. I'm different.. and I'm the outsider.
I hope that with my career choice, I can make a difference. Make a difference so that the exception becomes the rule.
I hope that with my career choice, I can make a difference. Make a difference so that the exception becomes the rule.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Wide Awake
Waking up is never usually a pleasant thing, at least for those of you who are like me and aren't a morning person or even an 11am person. You're groggy, tired and all you want to do is lay your head back down on your big fluffy pillow and curl back up, no matter how many hours of sleep you got.
Today, waking up was worse than that. Today, it wasn't my alarm clock that woke me up or a storm.
Today, I woke up from the same jolt of the same lightening bolt that hit me for the first time on November 2, 2006.
I was dreaming about my mom. My mom was sleeping on her bed and I was just standing there waiting for her to wake up (my mom would often sleep for days at a time when she was coming off meth). I was so angry with her because I couldn't understand how she was sleeping through everything, I just wanted her to wake up and spend time with me and my little brother.
When my mom finally did wake up after what felt like weeks in my dream, I went over to her bed and laid with her. I could feel her. I remember seeing her smile that lit up the room. And as I was laying next to her, I knew this moment wasn't going to last. I knew we had a very short time together. I held her tight and cried on her chest that I wish she wouldn't go. Then I beckoned my brother over and told him to tell mommy really good things for her to remember.
It was at this point I woke up. All the feelings I had of that initial shock of her dying rushed over my body with a great amount of force and speed. Before I could even open my eyes to realize I was now awake, the tears started pouring out. I felt like I had lost her..again.
I'll never understand why I lost my mom when I was 16. I can't imagine God needed her more than I did, more than I still do. You do your best to manage after you lose a mom. To find a new normal of life. You go on, doing everyday things which feel nearly impossible to do at first. Then one day, you realize.. you're doing okay and the day-to-day things aren't so hard anymore. And you feel a sense of hope.
But before you know it, you get hit by a freight train of the loss, the grief, the anger, the denial and suddenly, a task that you do everyday, like waking up, sends you flying back to the beginning.
And the worse part about all of this, is after I move on from what happened today and start to feel normalcy again, that same damn freight train is going to come back around.
Today is going to be a hard day. It's going to be hard a few weeks. November 2, 2012 will be six years since my mom has died. But while that train may come around more often during this time, I've gotta keep walking with my head held high or I'll never make it out alive.
Today, waking up was worse than that. Today, it wasn't my alarm clock that woke me up or a storm.
Today, I woke up from the same jolt of the same lightening bolt that hit me for the first time on November 2, 2006.
I was dreaming about my mom. My mom was sleeping on her bed and I was just standing there waiting for her to wake up (my mom would often sleep for days at a time when she was coming off meth). I was so angry with her because I couldn't understand how she was sleeping through everything, I just wanted her to wake up and spend time with me and my little brother.
When my mom finally did wake up after what felt like weeks in my dream, I went over to her bed and laid with her. I could feel her. I remember seeing her smile that lit up the room. And as I was laying next to her, I knew this moment wasn't going to last. I knew we had a very short time together. I held her tight and cried on her chest that I wish she wouldn't go. Then I beckoned my brother over and told him to tell mommy really good things for her to remember.
It was at this point I woke up. All the feelings I had of that initial shock of her dying rushed over my body with a great amount of force and speed. Before I could even open my eyes to realize I was now awake, the tears started pouring out. I felt like I had lost her..again.
I'll never understand why I lost my mom when I was 16. I can't imagine God needed her more than I did, more than I still do. You do your best to manage after you lose a mom. To find a new normal of life. You go on, doing everyday things which feel nearly impossible to do at first. Then one day, you realize.. you're doing okay and the day-to-day things aren't so hard anymore. And you feel a sense of hope.
But before you know it, you get hit by a freight train of the loss, the grief, the anger, the denial and suddenly, a task that you do everyday, like waking up, sends you flying back to the beginning.
And the worse part about all of this, is after I move on from what happened today and start to feel normalcy again, that same damn freight train is going to come back around.
Today is going to be a hard day. It's going to be hard a few weeks. November 2, 2012 will be six years since my mom has died. But while that train may come around more often during this time, I've gotta keep walking with my head held high or I'll never make it out alive.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Mother Daughter Talks
Naturally, being a girl, I dream a lot about my wedding day. What dress will I wear? Who will my bridesmaids be? The face my soon-to-be-husband will have when he sees me for the first time as I walk towards him. But unfortunately, there's one thing I used to dream about that will never come true.
I always wondered what my mother would say to me on my special day. What advice she'll have for me. Seeing her cry because her little girl is all grown up. And I can hear her now talking about how sexy my husband is and how she wish she could've snapped him up first and of course, meaning it in the most loving way.
It's hard to come to terms with the fact that I won't get to have any of that.
Losing my mom was really hard but what comes with losing her, is losing all of those things a mother and daughter are supposed to do together. Most mother and daughters fight like crazy during the teenage years. The daughter doesn't think the mom will ever understand and all the mom wants to do is stop her daughter from making the same mistakes she did. My mom and I definitely got that part of the mother daughter relationship.
The part we never got to experience, is when the daughter grows older and wiser and transitions into a woman. It is during this time, when they begin to repair their relationship. They can begin to talk woman to woman. They develop a completely new understanding of each other. Stay up late, drinking wine (in my case, it would be Moscato) talking about what it means to be a woman, the love they are falling in and out of, the past they've learned from and the future they hope for.
I was 16 when she died and while I learned a lot from her mistakes even though I was so young, I never had the opportunity to sit down and understand why she was telling me about the mistakes she made. She was only 38, with such a lifetime ahead of her, and I'll never know what she hoped to do with her future. Although, I imagine it would be to continue loving me and my brother and becoming a grandmother one day.
If I could have her back for a whole day, all I'd want to do is take time to appreciate the opportunity to have a mother daughter talk but I'd want her to do all the talking. I've talked enough over the last five and a half years.. I want nothing more than to hear what she'd say back to me.
I always wondered what my mother would say to me on my special day. What advice she'll have for me. Seeing her cry because her little girl is all grown up. And I can hear her now talking about how sexy my husband is and how she wish she could've snapped him up first and of course, meaning it in the most loving way.
It's hard to come to terms with the fact that I won't get to have any of that.
Losing my mom was really hard but what comes with losing her, is losing all of those things a mother and daughter are supposed to do together. Most mother and daughters fight like crazy during the teenage years. The daughter doesn't think the mom will ever understand and all the mom wants to do is stop her daughter from making the same mistakes she did. My mom and I definitely got that part of the mother daughter relationship.
The part we never got to experience, is when the daughter grows older and wiser and transitions into a woman. It is during this time, when they begin to repair their relationship. They can begin to talk woman to woman. They develop a completely new understanding of each other. Stay up late, drinking wine (in my case, it would be Moscato) talking about what it means to be a woman, the love they are falling in and out of, the past they've learned from and the future they hope for.
I was 16 when she died and while I learned a lot from her mistakes even though I was so young, I never had the opportunity to sit down and understand why she was telling me about the mistakes she made. She was only 38, with such a lifetime ahead of her, and I'll never know what she hoped to do with her future. Although, I imagine it would be to continue loving me and my brother and becoming a grandmother one day.
If I could have her back for a whole day, all I'd want to do is take time to appreciate the opportunity to have a mother daughter talk but I'd want her to do all the talking. I've talked enough over the last five and a half years.. I want nothing more than to hear what she'd say back to me.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
The Outcast
I graduated from college a little over three weeks ago. I have a job working with children who have mental health and psychological problems. With having reached two major accomplishments recently I've been thinking a lot about where I come from, where I am and where I'm going.
Family is one of the most important things in my life and without them I have no idea where I'd be. But as I reminisced over the last few years of my life since my mom died, I've began to realize something.
I could not be more proud of myself but making my dreams come true has come at a price. And that price is my mom's side of the family.
I've completely shut out aunts, uncles and cousins because of their meth addiction and their involvement with drugs. It's not that I don't love them and aren't happy to see them the seldom times I do but they are not the kind of people I want to have consistently in my life because of the lifestyle that comes with their drug use. They're unpredictable and only care about one thing - getting high. When I do see them it often includes asking for rides, money or other resources they need to obtain drugs. It's constant fighting with each other. And nearly every time they are high. In no way is there the support or love a family is supposed to provide. No good time memories made. And I just do not have time for that.
My family is a drug family. Their bonds and relationships are through drugs. They've either done drugs together, sold drugs together or both. And this is a bond I will never share with them, a bond I will never understand. Whether they've done drugs together for 20 years or they only tried it once together and haven't tried drugs since, drugs are so embedded into my family and that's a part of my family I am not involved in.
In no way do I believe I am better than my family members who have a past or current involvement with drugs. In no way do I love them less because of it. It just breaks my heart that I feel so disconnected from them because I know where I want kind of life I want to have and my family members with severe drug use aren't in my life. It destroys me inside to know the one thing that connects nearly each of my family members together pushes me away from them.
If I could have just one wish come true it would be that I could have a family that could be involved in supporting me and helping me achieve my dreams. A family that I could trust to be right there by my side every step of the way. A family I felt like I belonged to.
Family is one of the most important things in my life and without them I have no idea where I'd be. But as I reminisced over the last few years of my life since my mom died, I've began to realize something.
I could not be more proud of myself but making my dreams come true has come at a price. And that price is my mom's side of the family.
I've completely shut out aunts, uncles and cousins because of their meth addiction and their involvement with drugs. It's not that I don't love them and aren't happy to see them the seldom times I do but they are not the kind of people I want to have consistently in my life because of the lifestyle that comes with their drug use. They're unpredictable and only care about one thing - getting high. When I do see them it often includes asking for rides, money or other resources they need to obtain drugs. It's constant fighting with each other. And nearly every time they are high. In no way is there the support or love a family is supposed to provide. No good time memories made. And I just do not have time for that.
My family is a drug family. Their bonds and relationships are through drugs. They've either done drugs together, sold drugs together or both. And this is a bond I will never share with them, a bond I will never understand. Whether they've done drugs together for 20 years or they only tried it once together and haven't tried drugs since, drugs are so embedded into my family and that's a part of my family I am not involved in.
In no way do I believe I am better than my family members who have a past or current involvement with drugs. In no way do I love them less because of it. It just breaks my heart that I feel so disconnected from them because I know where I want kind of life I want to have and my family members with severe drug use aren't in my life. It destroys me inside to know the one thing that connects nearly each of my family members together pushes me away from them.
If I could have just one wish come true it would be that I could have a family that could be involved in supporting me and helping me achieve my dreams. A family that I could trust to be right there by my side every step of the way. A family I felt like I belonged to.
Monday, April 30, 2012
My Past Is My Identitiy
Moving on from your past... is it truly something that's possible?
All too often I hear..
"Wow, you are so strong."
"Your story is truly amazing and inspiring."
"Your resilience is outstanding."
"You've overcame so much."
It does make me feel good to get this recognition and I do believe I am a resilient person. However, there is a down side to hearing all these statements.
When is it okay for me to be weak? To show the struggle I am still going through because of my past?
My perception: never.
People have an expectation for me to not be affected at all by my past obstacles since it does appear as though I've become bigger than them. I was very involved in high school and graduated. Then I went onto college. I am one of the few who will actually graduate with my degree. I took advantage of so many great opportunities and will graduate on the President's List. I have great friends, a loving boyfriend and a dad who has supported me through it all.
All of that is my exterior strength. Things people can see without having to actually listen to me. If people took time to look past that and really listen to me, this is a snap shot of what I'd say..
I heard a Meth success story on April 27, the day after my mom's birthday. Instead of rejoicing for that person, I was thinking "Why did you get to beat your addiction and get your kids back? Why are you alive but my mom is dead?" I have never before felt so resentful towards someone else's success.
I'm less than two weeks away from my graduation and I honestly wish the day wouldn't come. It's just another milestone I'm going to reach that my mom won't see. The reason why I always believed I could go to college despite everyone else tearing me down is because my mom believed I could which made me believe I could. It doesn't help to hear "She'll be there with you in spirit."She won't be there and there is absolutely nothing that can change that.
I've never had one person who has been in my life consistently. My mom would run away on binges for days or even weeks at a time and I would never know if she was coming home. I'd watch out my grandma's bay window hoping the car that was coming down the road would turn into our driveway and it'd be my mom coming home. She permanently left me when I was 16. I didn't meet my dad until I was 8 or something like that. I knew him before I knew he was my dad but he wasn't my dad during that time. I really hated him for a long time because of this.
My mom's entire side of the family is addicted to drugs and the one uncle who isn't, wasn't around much when I was younger. Drug addicts can never be relied on. For anything. Not even if they're your family. The cousins I do have who aren't addicted, I grew up with them like brothers and sisters. But the addiction in our family tore us apart for a really long time.
My brother and I were separated when we were young to different foster homes and then to live with our different dads. Our relationship hasn't been the same since. I barely even know him. This is the most heartbreaking thing I've been through aside from losing my mom.
My life has been full of unpredictability, chaos and inconsistency. This is one of the things that affects my current relationships more than anything. I've never fully trusted anyone to remain in my life for a long period of time without leaving and hurting me at one point or another. My guard is constantly up. Somedays I can be just fine and be open and intimate with people I truly cherish and love.
But during the downhill of my roller coaster life, I can push people away and block them out to the point our relationship completely breaks. My mind thought is "I want to block them out before they have the chance to leave and cause the hurt on me." But in reality, I'm only hurting myself and those around me. They can tell I'm detached and ultimately it hurts my relationships with them. I don't even notice I'm doing it until I've already caused damage. I realize this in retrospect but I continue to do it over and over and over again.
I couldn't control what happened to me. I couldn't prevent. I couldn't rewind it and do it differently. But here I am, 21 years old, and am still impacted by it every single day.
I don't know what it is to feel consistent love. I don't know what a healthy relationship looks like, sounds like, feels like.
I don't know what it means to be truly happy. I can only be happy in one moment.
I can't even figure out who I am because I am still so stuck in my past.
Have I accomplished a lot of things I am proud of and I know my mother would be proud of? Absolutely.
If you asked me, I wouldn't identify myself as strong or overcoming my past because my past controls every aspect who I am, why I do what I do (both positively and negatively) and the only identity I feel people recognize me for is "The girl who grew up with a meth addicted mother who is graduating college."
That is how I identify myself.
Every accomplishment is preceded by something I overcame in my past. My past is my identity. My past is who I am. How do I truly overcome my past which is exactly what made me who I am? How do I become, just me who is recognized for just that, not the past she's "overcame?"
I hope I'm making this clear. I know my past is why I am who I am. But I don't want it to be who I'll always be.
All too often I hear..
"Wow, you are so strong."
"Your story is truly amazing and inspiring."
"Your resilience is outstanding."
"You've overcame so much."
It does make me feel good to get this recognition and I do believe I am a resilient person. However, there is a down side to hearing all these statements.
When is it okay for me to be weak? To show the struggle I am still going through because of my past?
My perception: never.
People have an expectation for me to not be affected at all by my past obstacles since it does appear as though I've become bigger than them. I was very involved in high school and graduated. Then I went onto college. I am one of the few who will actually graduate with my degree. I took advantage of so many great opportunities and will graduate on the President's List. I have great friends, a loving boyfriend and a dad who has supported me through it all.
All of that is my exterior strength. Things people can see without having to actually listen to me. If people took time to look past that and really listen to me, this is a snap shot of what I'd say..
I heard a Meth success story on April 27, the day after my mom's birthday. Instead of rejoicing for that person, I was thinking "Why did you get to beat your addiction and get your kids back? Why are you alive but my mom is dead?" I have never before felt so resentful towards someone else's success.
I'm less than two weeks away from my graduation and I honestly wish the day wouldn't come. It's just another milestone I'm going to reach that my mom won't see. The reason why I always believed I could go to college despite everyone else tearing me down is because my mom believed I could which made me believe I could. It doesn't help to hear "She'll be there with you in spirit."She won't be there and there is absolutely nothing that can change that.
I've never had one person who has been in my life consistently. My mom would run away on binges for days or even weeks at a time and I would never know if she was coming home. I'd watch out my grandma's bay window hoping the car that was coming down the road would turn into our driveway and it'd be my mom coming home. She permanently left me when I was 16. I didn't meet my dad until I was 8 or something like that. I knew him before I knew he was my dad but he wasn't my dad during that time. I really hated him for a long time because of this.
My mom's entire side of the family is addicted to drugs and the one uncle who isn't, wasn't around much when I was younger. Drug addicts can never be relied on. For anything. Not even if they're your family. The cousins I do have who aren't addicted, I grew up with them like brothers and sisters. But the addiction in our family tore us apart for a really long time.
My brother and I were separated when we were young to different foster homes and then to live with our different dads. Our relationship hasn't been the same since. I barely even know him. This is the most heartbreaking thing I've been through aside from losing my mom.
My life has been full of unpredictability, chaos and inconsistency. This is one of the things that affects my current relationships more than anything. I've never fully trusted anyone to remain in my life for a long period of time without leaving and hurting me at one point or another. My guard is constantly up. Somedays I can be just fine and be open and intimate with people I truly cherish and love.
But during the downhill of my roller coaster life, I can push people away and block them out to the point our relationship completely breaks. My mind thought is "I want to block them out before they have the chance to leave and cause the hurt on me." But in reality, I'm only hurting myself and those around me. They can tell I'm detached and ultimately it hurts my relationships with them. I don't even notice I'm doing it until I've already caused damage. I realize this in retrospect but I continue to do it over and over and over again.
I couldn't control what happened to me. I couldn't prevent. I couldn't rewind it and do it differently. But here I am, 21 years old, and am still impacted by it every single day.
I don't know what it is to feel consistent love. I don't know what a healthy relationship looks like, sounds like, feels like.
I don't know what it means to be truly happy. I can only be happy in one moment.
I can't even figure out who I am because I am still so stuck in my past.
Have I accomplished a lot of things I am proud of and I know my mother would be proud of? Absolutely.
If you asked me, I wouldn't identify myself as strong or overcoming my past because my past controls every aspect who I am, why I do what I do (both positively and negatively) and the only identity I feel people recognize me for is "The girl who grew up with a meth addicted mother who is graduating college."
That is how I identify myself.
Every accomplishment is preceded by something I overcame in my past. My past is my identity. My past is who I am. How do I truly overcome my past which is exactly what made me who I am? How do I become, just me who is recognized for just that, not the past she's "overcame?"
I hope I'm making this clear. I know my past is why I am who I am. But I don't want it to be who I'll always be.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Getting Through Another Day
I wrote this the same night I wrote "Family Affair" (so six days ago) but I really wasn't sure if I wanted to post it. Since my first post I haven't posted anything that is just raw emotion and me just writing to write and not to tell a story. Telling my story of my experiences isn't hard for me. What's hard for me is being so honest about the pain. Even though I started this blog to talk about the pain, it's something that I still struggle with.
Everyone loves hearing stories of people who have overcame adversities and go on to do great things. But no one wants to hear about the pain the person goes through while overcoming everything. In our society, especially in the midwest, we make sure we don't make anyone else feel uncomfortable with what we're talking about which is part of the reason why I was reluctant to share a post that was about my pain.
I think this is something that needs to change. We need to feel comfortable hearing the emotional pain of others because everyone has it. People need to feel like they are in a safe place where they can share those emotions if they want to. So while, I still am apprehensive about sharing this, I am going to. Because I don't want to always feel like I have to hide the pain. I don't want others to hide their pain. We all experience pain, we should all be comfortable talking about it, hearing about it and sharing it.
This post ends abruptly because I got to a point where I was crying so hard, I couldn't write any longer. When I am missing my mom I usually just force it out of my mind so I don't have to deal with the emotions. But when I write, I am forcing myself to feel the emotions that come along with not having a mom. And many times, it's too hard. So that's why this post just kind of stops, I just couldn't keep writing.
While I was writing my blog about Diana's story of drug raids, I was perfectly fine. Just reflecting on a few memories and thinking about how proud I am of Diana. But about an hour later I find myself crying and just thinking about how much I miss my mom. I'm so tired of missing her. I never get to stop missing her. That's what it's always going to be - Alisha missing her mom. In everyday life. At college graduation. At my wedding. No event in life comes without me wishing my mom was here. I wonder what my mom would think if she read my blog. I wonder what she'd say if I could call her up and tell her I was watching Selena.
I had a dream about my mom last week for the first time in a really long time. I really don't dream about her very often but when I do, it's always her contacting me, usually by phone. God never lets her talk very long though.
In my recent dream, I had a voicemail on my phone so I check it and the next thing I know I'm hearing my mother's voice. I can't quite make out what she is saying because in my dream, it feels so real. I start bawling and freaking out because I can't believe I am actually hearing her voice. I can't believe God let her call me. In my dream, I am so overwhelmed with emotion that I miss most of what she says. From this dream, I remember hearing her say "Babydoll, I am proud of you and I love you so much. I really wish I could see you."
After I wake up and am back in reality, all I can hear is her voice. I repeat the dream over and over in my mind because it feels so real, it sounded so real.
What I would give to receive one more call from her, a call in this reality. In the reality that my mom is now a person I have memories of, photographs with and dreams about. No new memories can be made. No more photographs can be taken. No more phone calls except for those that come to me in my dreams.
Although reality is I'll never hear her voice again, my dreams, memories and pictures allow her to always be with me.
But that's not who my mom should be to me. I hardly ever ask why me but when it comes to losing my mom at 16, I can't help but ask - why me? God knows I had already had it tough then he gave me the biggest adversity I could ever face to top it all off. But I suppose He knew my mom could no longer take the suffering that came with her drug addiction and He decided to free her from that.
When I was around 10 years old, I remember making my mom promise she'd be at my wedding. She pinky-promised with a smile and said she wouldn't miss it for the world.
Two things come to my mind when I think of this:
1) What 10-year-old feels the need to make her mom pinky promise to be at her wedding?
2) How in the hell am I going to get through that day without her there?
But I'll have to figure it out, like I have with the last 1,937 days since she's been gone. It's always going to be a struggle but like she's taught me - I'll continue to fight through it. No matter how much it completely sucks. But for now, I'll just look forward to more dreams of her and finding comfort in the memories and pictures I do have. And to keep on being grateful for the days I did have with her. What else can I do?
It makes me sick that I have to ask that question - what else can I do? I try not to be mad, but right now I can't help but feel angry that my mom was taken from me way too soon.
Everyone loves hearing stories of people who have overcame adversities and go on to do great things. But no one wants to hear about the pain the person goes through while overcoming everything. In our society, especially in the midwest, we make sure we don't make anyone else feel uncomfortable with what we're talking about which is part of the reason why I was reluctant to share a post that was about my pain.
I think this is something that needs to change. We need to feel comfortable hearing the emotional pain of others because everyone has it. People need to feel like they are in a safe place where they can share those emotions if they want to. So while, I still am apprehensive about sharing this, I am going to. Because I don't want to always feel like I have to hide the pain. I don't want others to hide their pain. We all experience pain, we should all be comfortable talking about it, hearing about it and sharing it.
This post ends abruptly because I got to a point where I was crying so hard, I couldn't write any longer. When I am missing my mom I usually just force it out of my mind so I don't have to deal with the emotions. But when I write, I am forcing myself to feel the emotions that come along with not having a mom. And many times, it's too hard. So that's why this post just kind of stops, I just couldn't keep writing.
While I was writing my blog about Diana's story of drug raids, I was perfectly fine. Just reflecting on a few memories and thinking about how proud I am of Diana. But about an hour later I find myself crying and just thinking about how much I miss my mom. I'm so tired of missing her. I never get to stop missing her. That's what it's always going to be - Alisha missing her mom. In everyday life. At college graduation. At my wedding. No event in life comes without me wishing my mom was here. I wonder what my mom would think if she read my blog. I wonder what she'd say if I could call her up and tell her I was watching Selena.
I had a dream about my mom last week for the first time in a really long time. I really don't dream about her very often but when I do, it's always her contacting me, usually by phone. God never lets her talk very long though.
In my recent dream, I had a voicemail on my phone so I check it and the next thing I know I'm hearing my mother's voice. I can't quite make out what she is saying because in my dream, it feels so real. I start bawling and freaking out because I can't believe I am actually hearing her voice. I can't believe God let her call me. In my dream, I am so overwhelmed with emotion that I miss most of what she says. From this dream, I remember hearing her say "Babydoll, I am proud of you and I love you so much. I really wish I could see you."
After I wake up and am back in reality, all I can hear is her voice. I repeat the dream over and over in my mind because it feels so real, it sounded so real.
What I would give to receive one more call from her, a call in this reality. In the reality that my mom is now a person I have memories of, photographs with and dreams about. No new memories can be made. No more photographs can be taken. No more phone calls except for those that come to me in my dreams.
Although reality is I'll never hear her voice again, my dreams, memories and pictures allow her to always be with me.
But that's not who my mom should be to me. I hardly ever ask why me but when it comes to losing my mom at 16, I can't help but ask - why me? God knows I had already had it tough then he gave me the biggest adversity I could ever face to top it all off. But I suppose He knew my mom could no longer take the suffering that came with her drug addiction and He decided to free her from that.
When I was around 10 years old, I remember making my mom promise she'd be at my wedding. She pinky-promised with a smile and said she wouldn't miss it for the world.
Two things come to my mind when I think of this:
1) What 10-year-old feels the need to make her mom pinky promise to be at her wedding?
2) How in the hell am I going to get through that day without her there?
But I'll have to figure it out, like I have with the last 1,937 days since she's been gone. It's always going to be a struggle but like she's taught me - I'll continue to fight through it. No matter how much it completely sucks. But for now, I'll just look forward to more dreams of her and finding comfort in the memories and pictures I do have. And to keep on being grateful for the days I did have with her. What else can I do?
It makes me sick that I have to ask that question - what else can I do? I try not to be mad, but right now I can't help but feel angry that my mom was taken from me way too soon.
Monday, February 20, 2012
A Family Affair
I wish I could say I was the only one in my family affected by my mother's meth addiction but that would be far from the truth. When someone is addicted to drugs, it affects everyone around them in multiple ways. My mother wasn't alone in her addiction - she had a mother, a sister, two brothers and niece to share her addiction with. Drug addiction is a true family affair in the Wauters family. It is what everyone in town and all the towns next door knew us for.
My mom and her sister, Diane, were really close. My mom had two kids - my brother and I and my Aunt Diane had four - Danielle, Nicole, David and Diana. All of us kids were always together and we had relationships that were as close brothers and sisters. We were all affected by our mothers' addiction. We experienced a lot of the same traumas but if you talk to each of us individually, there will be certain things one of us remembers better than the others.
My cousin Diana is now 20 years old and studying at Mount Mercy University. She has been through numerous obstacles, some similar to mine, others much different. She has found a way to push through them and is making something of herself. I am so proud of her.
Diana wrote a mini story about the way her mother's addiction affected her during childhood a few years back. It is about her view of the police and the multiple drug raids she experienced. This is where our experience differs. I barely remember one drug raid while Diana has a clear, sharp memory of the drug raids and how she experienced them. This is Diana's story about the raids in small town Iowa.
"I never liked police; they took my dad away and were always bugging my mom and her friends. I have lived in a lot of places, but the police really seemed bad in Brooklyn. Too bad for me the police were like my cousins, I saw them once a week.
The police really wanted my mom. They knew she did drugs they just wanted to catch her, and they did. They didn’t catch her right away. We had many house raids, it was kind of like a family reunion with them. We got used to seeing 30 cop cars and vans in front of our house, we also got used to being the talk of the next day. Friends saying “There were a lot of police in front of you house last night,” well no shit I was there too. We got used to the raids quick, it was usually just 20 or so cops would come in and tear my house up, scraping ice out of the freezer and going through our flour. It was quite comical after awhile. My siblings and I would just sit in the living room and draw really ugly pictures of them on paper plates.
There was one raid that was different than the usual ones. I was home alone with mom and we got a knock on the door and as I open up the door, little did I know that, that little knock on the door would change my life. Give me a feeling that nobody should have to feel. I was pushed to the ground by a police officer all dressed in armor and he had a gun pointed on me as the other police officers crowded in the house yelling “MOVE! MOVE! BROOKLYN POLICE!” I was a scared little girl, I was in the line of death or at least I thought. I didn’t like raids after that or answering the door. What kind of person points a gun on a little girl? You never know what will happen in Brooklyn, [Iowa]."
This is one way drug addiction can affect children that I never would have been able to touch on. I am so appreciative Diana allowed me to share this on my blog.
Last week Diana stayed over with me. I woke up to her crawling onto my futon with me and she was bawling. She was thinking about her mom. Unlike my mom, Diana's mom is still alive and is deep in her drug addiction. If you know a drug addict, you know one of the effects of addiction is not being present. While Diana's mom is still here - her mom isn't here the way a mother should be, the way a daughter needs a mother to be. Diana loves her mom and she can tell you a lot of really amazing things about her. But unfortunately, the drug addiction takes away from all the positive attributes her mom has to offer. Drug addiction took my mother's life and drug addiction is still taking over Diana's mom's life.
In another mini story Diana wrote a few years back, I think she describes a child's love for an addicted mother perfectly.
"My mom was a drug addict and loved the drugs more than she loved us. That is a very hard thing to say. But it is the truth and still is to this day. At the time I never realized it because that is the way it had been my whole life. I love my mom very much, I didn’t ever notice anything was wrong with the way she was raising me and my siblings, I thought it was normal and every family was the same way. "
Growing up with drugs did seem completely normal to us because it was a family affair. We didn't know anything else. We knew drugs were bad things and our mom's weren't making good choices but what we knew more than that was how much we loved our moms and how much they loved us.
Now that we're older and can understand the affect addiction has on our family, my brother, my cousins and I have been pushing through the adversities to make a new name for the Wauters family and a new family affair.
My mom and her sister, Diane, were really close. My mom had two kids - my brother and I and my Aunt Diane had four - Danielle, Nicole, David and Diana. All of us kids were always together and we had relationships that were as close brothers and sisters. We were all affected by our mothers' addiction. We experienced a lot of the same traumas but if you talk to each of us individually, there will be certain things one of us remembers better than the others.
My cousin Diana is now 20 years old and studying at Mount Mercy University. She has been through numerous obstacles, some similar to mine, others much different. She has found a way to push through them and is making something of herself. I am so proud of her.
Diana wrote a mini story about the way her mother's addiction affected her during childhood a few years back. It is about her view of the police and the multiple drug raids she experienced. This is where our experience differs. I barely remember one drug raid while Diana has a clear, sharp memory of the drug raids and how she experienced them. This is Diana's story about the raids in small town Iowa.
"I never liked police; they took my dad away and were always bugging my mom and her friends. I have lived in a lot of places, but the police really seemed bad in Brooklyn. Too bad for me the police were like my cousins, I saw them once a week.
The police really wanted my mom. They knew she did drugs they just wanted to catch her, and they did. They didn’t catch her right away. We had many house raids, it was kind of like a family reunion with them. We got used to seeing 30 cop cars and vans in front of our house, we also got used to being the talk of the next day. Friends saying “There were a lot of police in front of you house last night,” well no shit I was there too. We got used to the raids quick, it was usually just 20 or so cops would come in and tear my house up, scraping ice out of the freezer and going through our flour. It was quite comical after awhile. My siblings and I would just sit in the living room and draw really ugly pictures of them on paper plates.
There was one raid that was different than the usual ones. I was home alone with mom and we got a knock on the door and as I open up the door, little did I know that, that little knock on the door would change my life. Give me a feeling that nobody should have to feel. I was pushed to the ground by a police officer all dressed in armor and he had a gun pointed on me as the other police officers crowded in the house yelling “MOVE! MOVE! BROOKLYN POLICE!” I was a scared little girl, I was in the line of death or at least I thought. I didn’t like raids after that or answering the door. What kind of person points a gun on a little girl? You never know what will happen in Brooklyn, [Iowa]."
This is one way drug addiction can affect children that I never would have been able to touch on. I am so appreciative Diana allowed me to share this on my blog.
Last week Diana stayed over with me. I woke up to her crawling onto my futon with me and she was bawling. She was thinking about her mom. Unlike my mom, Diana's mom is still alive and is deep in her drug addiction. If you know a drug addict, you know one of the effects of addiction is not being present. While Diana's mom is still here - her mom isn't here the way a mother should be, the way a daughter needs a mother to be. Diana loves her mom and she can tell you a lot of really amazing things about her. But unfortunately, the drug addiction takes away from all the positive attributes her mom has to offer. Drug addiction took my mother's life and drug addiction is still taking over Diana's mom's life.
In another mini story Diana wrote a few years back, I think she describes a child's love for an addicted mother perfectly.
"My mom was a drug addict and loved the drugs more than she loved us. That is a very hard thing to say. But it is the truth and still is to this day. At the time I never realized it because that is the way it had been my whole life. I love my mom very much, I didn’t ever notice anything was wrong with the way she was raising me and my siblings, I thought it was normal and every family was the same way. "
Growing up with drugs did seem completely normal to us because it was a family affair. We didn't know anything else. We knew drugs were bad things and our mom's weren't making good choices but what we knew more than that was how much we loved our moms and how much they loved us.
Now that we're older and can understand the affect addiction has on our family, my brother, my cousins and I have been pushing through the adversities to make a new name for the Wauters family and a new family affair.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Child Abuse Survivor: The way I experience it
I was re-reading my blog and realized I used a term to describe myself that I have never used before.. "child abuse survivor." I don't know if it was just the rage of my emotion coming out and thinking about the way her addiction has affected me but I have never identified as a survivor of child abuse before. I didn't even know I would be considered a child abuse survivor until last fall.
I took a child welfare class last semester (Fall 2011) and it made me really curious to know more about my child welfare case. Ever since I can remember DHS had been involved with my family starting when my mother was shot until after I began living with my dad. I always thought their involvement only had to do with my mother's addiction. I decided to go through all the papers my dad had kept about my case. I wanted to know more about my childhood that I didn't remember. I had questions that only my mom would know the answer to but I couldn't ask her. I thought my case file would be able to answer some of them for me.
I dug out the two huge folders packed with papers from DHS. In no way was I prepared for what I was about to learn. My mom had multiple cases of child abuse against her, mainly for denial of critical care which can include numerous things like inadequate supervision.
I never remember going hungry. I never remember not being watched after by somebody, whether it was my mom, my grandma, an aunt or a neighbor, someone was always there. But here it was in my case files that there were times my mom didn't provide critical care. There was a specific story of my mom sleeping on the couch really sick (likely coming down from a binge) and my social worker came over and my brother and I told her we were hungry because my mom didn't make food for us that day. There was another time my social worker came over and my mom had no idea where my brother was. They had to go looking for him and eventually found him at a friend's house.
What struck me the hardest about my case was the stories of the times my mom didn't show up for our visit while I was in foster care or the times my mom refused to go to treatment even though it was a requirement before she could get us back.
I never knew any of this. I didn't remember any of it. To read this on paper broke my heart. It made me feel like my mother didn't love me the way I thought she did. The way my memory told me she loved me. She was a worse mother than I thought. After just reading papers I went from remembering my mother as loving, caring and always providing me with what I needed to trying to wrap my mind around the fact that I was a victim of child abuse.
I was struggling so much with this that I reached out to one of my professors in the School of Social Work. She said something so powerful that has stuck. She said, from what I know of you and your past, I have never known you to identify as a child abuse survivor because that's not how you experienced it. It's up to you how you want to identify and while some people would call you a survivor, you don't have to have that identify if you don't want to.
I share this story because it is so important for people to realize that no matter how bad of parents people think drug addicts are, children are going to love and care for their parents no matter what. I may have went hungry at times or not always been watched after the best but that's not what I remember. What I do remember is coming home from school crying after being bullied and my mom telling me over and over how beautiful I am inside and out. I remember my mom teaching me how important education is. I remember my mom calling me almost everyday just to tell me how proud she is of me and that she loves me.
Do I identify as a survivor of child abuse? No.
Do I realize the ways my mom wasn't a good parent? Yes.
But all the good she did for me, all the love she gave me and all the lessons she taught me have always spoke louder. There's a reason my mind doesn't recall neglect I experienced and that's because my mom showed me love way more than she neglected me.
Some kids may not have been as lucky as I was to have a mom who showed so much love. Some kids may remember the amounts of neglect they experienced. But I think one thing holds true for all kids of addicts and it's that - no matter how bad the addiction their parent has and the ways it has hurt them, they love their mom/dad and will always have a part of them that will never let go of that faith that some day, things will be different, and their mom/dad will sober up.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
An Unexpected Response
When I decided to share my story, I did not have any expectations of people actually reading it. I knew my family would and those close to me. Never once did it cross my mind that in less than 36 hours it would already have almost 700 page views. Never did I think I would have people messaging me to share their story about living with a parent who was an addict.
After I finished writing my first post, my tears had finally stopped. I didn't think I would spend the rest of the night crying. But I did. I had so many people commenting and messaging me about how courageous they thought I was for sharing or how my story touched them. In no way was I expecting to get so much support and encouragement.
My post was filled with deep emotions I never share with hardly anyone, not even my closest family. When I cry, I do it alone and I hate talking about it. To see that so many people were reading my story, some I knew really well, others from my community and some people I didn't know at all, I wasn't sure how to feel about it. Every comment I've gotten has been positive but part of me feared there are people out there who won't think so positive of it.
You see, I never talk about what my mother's addiction means to me because drug addicted mothers and their kids are so scrutinized against. There are so many stereotypes about drug addicts living off welfare and being undeserving of help or even raising children. I was told as a child to not even plan on graduating high school because people from families just like mine, don't do that. I met a woman once and when she found out who my mom was she said "Wow, you're really pretty considering who your mom is." Let me just say - my mom and I look exactly alike. She didn't think I was pretty for having an ugly mom, she thought I was pretty for coming from a family full of drug addicts. I learned from an early age I wasn't expected to be smart or pretty. I wasn't expected to be anything but another drug addict.
And I fear that to this day, even though I am a senior at Iowa and on the President's List, people still expect me to fail eventually. But to all you of out there who think I will fail - I dare you to continue to watch to me succeed. Because I will. While I had all these people telling me I can't, I had my mom telling me I could and I would. My mom's voice has always been bigger, stronger and more influential on me than anyone else's. She may be gone from this earth but I still hear her loud and clear.
I want to continue blogging about what my mom's addiction means to me and the way it is still affecting me today. I think it will continue to help me grow even stronger in who I am and will really serve as a great therapy for me. The comments I have gotten have encouraged me to keep doing it, each comment made me more confident in my decision to share my story. So to each of you have read my blog, "liked" it on facebook, shared it with others and commented on it, I want to thank each and everyone of you for helping me through this.
In a little over two days, I've already seen the way people can relate to what I've gone through and am going through. As a future social worker, my dream is to touch people, to help them. If I can do this by taking a risk and sharing these emotions and experiences with people, I want to do that. I want to encourage other's to share their stories or reach out for a helping hand. I don't want the voices of children raised by drug addicts to be quieted down. I want their voices to be heard. To be loud. To be recognized as people who don't have to fall into the statistics of becoming addicted themselves.
After I finished writing my first post, my tears had finally stopped. I didn't think I would spend the rest of the night crying. But I did. I had so many people commenting and messaging me about how courageous they thought I was for sharing or how my story touched them. In no way was I expecting to get so much support and encouragement.
My post was filled with deep emotions I never share with hardly anyone, not even my closest family. When I cry, I do it alone and I hate talking about it. To see that so many people were reading my story, some I knew really well, others from my community and some people I didn't know at all, I wasn't sure how to feel about it. Every comment I've gotten has been positive but part of me feared there are people out there who won't think so positive of it.
You see, I never talk about what my mother's addiction means to me because drug addicted mothers and their kids are so scrutinized against. There are so many stereotypes about drug addicts living off welfare and being undeserving of help or even raising children. I was told as a child to not even plan on graduating high school because people from families just like mine, don't do that. I met a woman once and when she found out who my mom was she said "Wow, you're really pretty considering who your mom is." Let me just say - my mom and I look exactly alike. She didn't think I was pretty for having an ugly mom, she thought I was pretty for coming from a family full of drug addicts. I learned from an early age I wasn't expected to be smart or pretty. I wasn't expected to be anything but another drug addict.
And I fear that to this day, even though I am a senior at Iowa and on the President's List, people still expect me to fail eventually. But to all you of out there who think I will fail - I dare you to continue to watch to me succeed. Because I will. While I had all these people telling me I can't, I had my mom telling me I could and I would. My mom's voice has always been bigger, stronger and more influential on me than anyone else's. She may be gone from this earth but I still hear her loud and clear.
I want to continue blogging about what my mom's addiction means to me and the way it is still affecting me today. I think it will continue to help me grow even stronger in who I am and will really serve as a great therapy for me. The comments I have gotten have encouraged me to keep doing it, each comment made me more confident in my decision to share my story. So to each of you have read my blog, "liked" it on facebook, shared it with others and commented on it, I want to thank each and everyone of you for helping me through this.
In a little over two days, I've already seen the way people can relate to what I've gone through and am going through. As a future social worker, my dream is to touch people, to help them. If I can do this by taking a risk and sharing these emotions and experiences with people, I want to do that. I want to encourage other's to share their stories or reach out for a helping hand. I don't want the voices of children raised by drug addicts to be quieted down. I want their voices to be heard. To be loud. To be recognized as people who don't have to fall into the statistics of becoming addicted themselves.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Untitled
I wrote this tonight. Without any plans of anyone seeing it. I was over flooded with emotions tonight when my professor posted the ingredients used to make meth (more in the blog). I think you'll see in this post the roller coaster of emotions I went through while I was processing this in my mind which is pretty typical when I'm grieving my mother and thinking about what her addiction meant to me. This post is really long and all over the place because I came home bawling from class and just started writing. This is what I got.
Most everyone knows I grew up with my mom who had an addiction to Meth and eventually died from her addiction. Over the past two years, meth addiction has come up in one or another class. I've always known my mom's addiction affected me, especially her death. But as I get older and am learning more about what it means to be a meth addict, the more I learn about my mom.
I thought this would be a good thing. I thought the more I learn about her, the closer I'll feel to her. You don't have to have a mom with a meth addiction to know how toxic and dangerous the drug is. I've known this ever since I knew it was her drug of choice. What I didn't know was that knowing more about it would make me feel further and further away from her.
My mom loved me but I never was her first priority. When I was younger, I'd tell myself no matter what, no matter how hard into the drugs she was, no matter how fucked up she was, I was always her first priority. I used to think I was enough to make her want to quit, to give her a motivation to live a good, healthy, sober life. Every time she'd relapse I'd forgive her because I would just tell this to myself over and over and over again until I finally believed it. When you have a mom who is addicted to meth, you hold onto every single phone call you get, every word of affirmation you get that tells you you're loved because they don't happen nearly as often as they should.
I was naive then. Thinking I could make her better. I know now meth was always her first priority. No matter how bad she wanted to stop, no matter how much she loved me, no matter how guilty she felt, no matter the consequences.. Meth always won. Meth was always on her mind. Her goal in life was to get high. She couldn't show me love without being high. She had to be high to enjoy her life, to feel normal, to function. She had to be high to be a mom. She was the worst mom when she wasn't high, coming down and withdrawing. These are the times when I saw her trying to hurt herself, sleeping all day, not eating, not feeding me and my brother.
To come to the realization, my mom was only a mom on meth is almost too much to bare. I can't help but ask, why couldn't I have a mom who could just love me and be a mom who was always present. My mom probably doesn't remember half the time she spent with me because she was high. Why couldn't I have a mom whose number one priority was me? Is that too much to ask?
Today in my substance abuse class, my professor put a list up on the board. It read things like gasoline, paint thinner, battery acid, drainer cleaner, acetone, etc -- what was staring me right in my face, pure as day was all the chemicals my mom gave me up for, gave her family up for and ultimately lost her life to. I came second to these poisons. I ..came second.. to these.. poisons. How in the hell do I wrap my mind around that? How can I possibly accept that?
If it weren't for drugs, I'd have a normal childhood. I wouldn't have been put in foster-care three separate times. I wouldn't be a child abuse survivor. I wouldn't have been separated from my brother. I wouldn't have a broken family. I would have a "normal" childhood to talk about.
I know my mom loves me and I know she tried to quit. If it was up to her, she would have been able to at a drop of a hat. Gaining this information about meth has given me a new perspective on my mom and it hasn't made me love her less or hate her for being addicted, it has made me hate the drug with even more of a passion than I had before. If anyone asks me, to do this day, I will tell you I had the best mom in the world.
My mom did drugs, she went to prison and she was put on the child abuse registry. But if it wasn't for every single one of her mistakes, I would not be the same person I am today.
I am 21-years-old and the only drug I've ever used is alcohol - never tried a cigarette, never smoked weed. You will never see me do these things or even contemplate trying even if it is "just to experiment because that's what everyone in college does."
I am strong in who I am and in my past. My mom taught me how to continue to fight to get what I want. She taught me how to take every negative situation or experience and learn something from it. You can ask me about the time my mom was shot, being in foster, being abused, being poor and I can tell you exactly what I've learned from it. And as I get older and look back, I continue to learn more from each experience I had.
While my mom lived through hell and back, the most important thing she gave me was my passion. I have a desire, a craving inside of me to help people. Help people in anyway I can. My mom had a lot of characteristics many people would consider "bad." Not only was she addicted to meth and founded to be a child abuser on cases of neglect, she suffered from mental illnesses including addiction, depression and personality disorder. Being raised by my mother taught me no matter how many negative aspects there are to a person - that person deserves love, opportunities to better themselves and not to just be tolerated - but to be understood and truly cared for.
Working with the population that my mom fits into is no easy task. They relapse and fuck up and then do it all over again no matter their consequences. But they are still humans capable of giving so much love. For those who knew my mom, the first thing they'd tell you about her is she has a heart of pure gold and would do anything for anybody. She loved helping people and didn't for a second think about what was in it for her.
I don't judge people with mental illnesses, drug addictions, felony records, moms who have their kids taken away or anything related because even though my mom was fucked up most the time - I knew her. I knew the person she was and the intentions in her heart despite all the trouble she always seemed to be in. I never gave up on my mom. Until the day she died, I rooted for her, never losing my faith in her.
My mom lost her battle. She left two kids and a lot of family behind. If it weren't for the struggles my mom went through and the obstacles I faced being raised by a drug addict, I wouldn't have the same passion I do now. My mom showed me God's light shines inside of everybody. My goal is to help that light shine so bright the darkness inside of them becomes a part of their past, a learning experience and something they can control. I want to do everything I can so that young girls like me don't have to grow up trying to accept the fact that they come second to meth or any other drug.
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