My Rehabilitated Mother

My mom didn't start drinking regularly until I was six, when she made a poor judgement call and let her abusive alcoholic boyfriend move in with us (my mother, my older sister, and I). She just sort of picked up his habits. I still remember what she was like before he moved in; she was like super-mom, she was incredible. I will give her credit for the fact that she never even let him speak to us when he began drinking, much less lay a hand on us. But still, it isn't an easy thing for a child to witness her drunk mother fighting and being beaten by her 6'6 drunk boyfriend.

He lived with us until I was twelve; my sister had moved out a year before. There had been several occasions where the law had been called, and once I had to call an ambulance when he hit her and she fell, cutting her head open and knocking her unconsious. At that point, she had also become addicted to xanex and was negligent and verbally abusive toward me.

After that there was a string of men that ranged from one night stands to two month stints, and I am incredibly lucky that none of these strangers wandered drunk into my bedroom while my mother was passed out. On the nights she came home alone, or got drunk alone at home, I would follow her around, making sure she didn't accidentally fall asleep in the tub and drown, or fall asleep with food in her mouth and choke, or otherwise find some other ridiculous way to kill or maim herself. 

I moved in with my father when I was fifteen, and my mother promptly fell apart and spiraled into the depths of self-destruction without the distraction of a child in the home. She sold our home, got rid of our pets, moved to the backwoods with her hick crackhead alcoholic family, and became addicted to crack/cocaine. There were long periods of time when nobody could find her or knew if she was alive. When we were in contact, I'd get talked into spending the occasional weekend with her, which was always a disaster. She tried to hook me up with a guy my age by inviting him to spend the night and then later reveal his sleeping arrangements in my bed, she took me to the river to go tubing and got seperated from me several times, and, for the first time in my life, she slapped me across the face. My childhood was littered with small examples of her ability to inflict harm - squeezing my arm too tightly, scratching me, an occaisional elbow to the ribs, and it didn't hurt me when she hit me this time (she was really drunk), but it killed every dream I had of her becoming the mother I needed her to be. 

She has since gone to to rehab for every substance she was abusing, and though she has had a few slip-ups with the alcohol, she is there for me in a way she never has been. Still, I have problems trusting her and everyone else in my life who shows the smallest signs of her former behavior. It's something that definately leaves it's mark.  

JeriBear JeriBear
18-21, F
1 Response Mar 26, 2009

Remember...you are not your mom...and you can do better. You sound like you are determined not to turn out like that. My mom was an alcoholic too, and I decided long ago not to ever drink.<br />
Stay strong!!!