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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.