Growing up without one of my parents has always been hard for me. Knowing it’s because your supposed role model chose to put drugs first, is even harder. According to a report done by the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, “12% of children in the United States (1.2 million) live with a parent that is either dependent on, or abuses drugs or alcohol.”

 I am part of that 12%.

 My parents met through an NA meeting (Narcotics Anonymous) meaning they were both addicted to drugs. Although my dad snapped out of it when his children were born, my mom followed a different path.

 My mom walked out on our family in the April of ’99, leaving me at the age of one and a half  years old. Since that day I’ve been dealing with this woman coming in and out of my life when it’s convenient for her. I’m not even positive if I still want to refer to her as my mother.

 Although it’s hard to see someone who is supposed to be your caregiver be high and shaky, it has opened my eyes to the world of drugs.

 After she left we struggled to get by. We were poor but even though it was hard, it only made us closer than most families. I was raised by my dad and my older sister, who both took the role of a mother figure.

 Being so young I never understood why my mom wasn’t there. Why we always had to go visit her in a special place. My dad explained to me that it was prison and it’s where they kept people who were in trouble. But I didn’t know what she did. I always wondered why she couldn’t just come home with us. 

 Now that I’m old enough to comprehend everything, I have so much pain and hurt built up against her. How could you carry a child for nine months to just leave them a year and a half later?

 People have to remind me that she’s an addict. That all of the drugs she’s abused have ruined her brain, and she isn’t the same woman she was when she was pregnant. I want to forgive her for everything she has put me through, but every time I come close she ruins that mindset.

 I don’t cry about her anymore. It hurts, but I won’t let anybody see it. I’m depressed, but nobody knows. Every day when I take my pills, everything comes rushing back. Does she know? Probably. Does she care? Probably not.

 I know being an addict causes you to only think about how you can get your hands on drugs, but can you be that selfish? One of these days, I’ll be the selfish one. I’ll make myself a somebody, and she’ll regret missing out on my life.

 Growing up around people like this makes you have to grow up quicker. I make better decisions and I understand what doing drugs can do to your life. I don’t have to go out and experience these things to see what it’s all about.

 Seeing the impact of her choices, pushes me to do something with myself. I don’t want my kids to spend their birthdays without their mother, to have a letter from prison for almost every year they have lived. For them, I want to be the mother I never had.

 Just because somebody holds a smile on their face, doesn’t mean they haven’t been through hell and back. Being one parent short has made me the person I am today, and even if I could I wouldn’t change what I’ve been through.