I should have known by the way our own family treated her,
but it never occurred to me that my mom was very ill.
My entire childhood she was sickly.
Mom would say, “If you don’t feel good, then pop this pill.”
Opiates were her passion, but they drained her of all life,
and her chasing the bag caused nothing but more strife.
I was always told that we do not discuss this subject,
while she popped Percocet’s while riding with police and the LDS.
“Be quiet, keep it to yourself, and mind your own business.
Shut up because I want these pills, to just relieve this damn stress.”
When I was three years old, I almost overdosed from the meth that Mommy left in her soda pop,
I kept running around in a circle and my heartbeat throbbed non-stop.
I cannot deal with this right now baby, I do not feel that good.
My mommy could never be the mother that she should.
As a pre-teen, I had to find a new place for us to live after an eviction.
all this pressure just because of good old mom’s drug addiction.
Always the black sheep of our family, they never wanted to get close.
All the fault of the very person who was supposed to love me the most.
The child parenting the mentally ill drug addict was always our personal theme song,
it repeated every day, and every night for 34 years strong.
Finally, I came to my senses and got away but barely escaped intact,
her drug addiction, her lies, her laziness, all had a very negative and bad impact.
Made homeless before it got better, I lost everything I’d ever owned for the third time in my life.
The pain, the regret, the sentimental items lost, painful thoughts cutting through like a butcher’s knife.
I left that toxic situation though, somehow got out alive.
Now all I want to do is build stability to survive.
I do not want the drugs or the craziness,
I do not want Mom’s excuses or pure laziness.
I just want a drama-free and positive, drug-free meaningful existence,
and I’m chasing down that goal and dream with much persistence.
I need to break this cycle, need to stop the pain.
I must find a way to shine my light through the fog and rain.
Why did this happen, and God, why me?
Why did I have to grow up as the mother and not the motherly?
Deep regrets locked away in a child’s barely hidden and showing shame,
all because my mommy just loved the dope game.
What is left now and what can I do?
I can start by relating this story to each one of you.
For all those kids of drug addicts hiding away in the dark,
digging through trash cans for food in the park.
I know that sadly there are far too many others out there who can probably relate,
for they have also borne this strange pain, this fucked up fate.
To know what it is like to suffer from this pandemic you must first understand,
that drug addiction and mental illness often come hand in hand.
We are the generation of children that raised and parented our own parents,
judged unfairly by others for their deeds rather than our own merits.
All I can say is flee and escape,
do not stay there and take the emotional rape.
They always say meth is a hell of a drug…
but tell me where were you mommy when I needed a hug?
So many of us bent and broken, misshapen, and sad,
deeply grieving the lost family and parents that we never had.
The answer to this is more education and public awareness,
so that this epidemic can be treated with more fairness,
for all those little kids who all alone often cried,
those with empty tummies but trying still to hide,
all of their sick parents’ deeds that were done in the dark,
so, they could get some more Vicodin or a meth pipe to spark.
We need a voice to share our story,
we need a torchbearer who can handle the glory.
Someone to bring all of this to the light,
so, we, the lost kids, can sleep better at night.
We grieve for the mothers we never had,
and our hearts weigh heavy, emotions are sad.
The trauma is nearly unbearable,
all the horrible memories nearly un-shareable.
When I was just a teen, she had tried to get me to shoot up with crank,
I was smart enough to say no and the Gods I thank,
because it would be another waste if I were also a meth head,
that toxic shit will quickly put you in your deathbed.
I miss the mommy that I never really had,
but since I have finally escaped, I am rather glad.
I no longer have to watch her drug abuse,
I no longer need to put up with excuse after excuse.
I can finally live my own life, although tainted by it all,
however, this is my rise and the drugs were their fall.
We the children must stay strong and carry on with our lives,
find our own families, husbands, children, and wives.
We are making the family that we never ever had,
and yes, my friend, that is indeed very sad.
However, I am still proud to say,
that I am no longer under the influence of my mother to this day.
I left that life, had to keep her behind,
all so that peace in my mind I could find.
Heed my warnings this story is all one hundred percent true,
you can do drugs, yes; but they in the end they just do you.