To The Girl Who Lost Her Mother To Drugs: Im With You.


Hi Y’all, sorry that I have been away recently. I have been going through a lot. This is really hard for me to write about because it is really personal, but I think it is important to share because I fully believe other girls are going through the same thing I am, and I want them to know that they are not alone.

I know this is not a typically happy post that I usually have, but I always write when I am sad or feeling alone. It helps. You should try it.

So here goes nothing.

Not everyone knows what it’s like to not have a mother. Granted, I was blessed with the most amazing stepmom around the second grade who helped raised me and teach me how to love and live my life by God’s word. But in reality, it is not the same. I’ve never been the girl who calls her mommy when she’s sick, has a broken heart from a silly boy, or needs advice about how to do her makeup or what to wear to the school dance. I’ve never had that mom who calls me daily to check up on me and tells me how much she loves me and tells me stories countless times about what I used to do as a toddler. That mom who carried you around in her belly for 9 months and gave birth to you. The first person to ever look into your eyes. But I truly believe every girl needs a mother.

Since I can remember growing up with my mom has been a struggle. I have never been a fan of drugs, and not because I took a class in middle school about how much drugs can ruin your life. I know firsthand how they can ruin a person’s life because drugs took my mom away from me. From the time I first started school, to now as an independent adult, I am constantly disappointed. Mom used to promise me that she would visit me for lunch at school, every elementary school kids favorite thing in the world. Lunchtime would come around and I would sit at the designated table where parents could sit with their kids at lunchtime. I remember bragging to all my friends that my mommy would be here for lunch (my dad couldn’t because he was always working). Time would pass by, and lunchtime would pass..she never showed. This happened to me probably about 5 times, the embarrassment was so bad I just wanted to leave school. This doesn’t even compare to the amount of disappointment I have received from her over the years.

My mom and dad ended up getting a divorce not long after I started elementary school. This meant my mom would only get to see me on weekends, or whenever I would ask my dad to drive me to whatever house she was living in. This was even more of a disaster. She was constantly changing houses, and each one was worse than the one before with even worse “roommates”. Most of the time it was any guy she could find that would financially help her out, for who knows what in return. Every guy was the same as the last, they’d act like they were my “stepdad” and thinking about it now makes me sick to my stomach. Visiting her was when I really got to see the real side of her. Since I was so young I didn’t really understand what was going on, but most of the time she’d behave when I was around..but sometimes she couldn’t help what happened around me. I remember one time she needed to pick the guy up that she was dating at the time because he was too drunk. He got in the back seat that was behind the driver seat, and I was in the passenger side. He pulled out a knife and put it to my mom’s neck. Kept screaming at her that he’d kill her. If I wasn’t in that passenger seat…who knows what could’ve happened. This is only one of the stories that I have from her visits.

But at least during those times, I had a mother to even visit. It wasn’t long after that that she disappeared. And by disappeared I mean I wouldn’t hear from her for weeks maybe even months. My dad and stepmom would hope that she wasn’t dead, but eventually, id get that call from a state prison..and there she was. My mother has been in and out of prison since I can remember. Timed phone calls and visits to a prison that was hours away from me is what I knew of my mom. A child should NEVER have to look at her mom in a jumpsuit, sitting just a table apart from a murderer and other inmates with crazy sentences, but that is what I had to go through. Rows of gates and metal detectors separated me from my mom.

My walls didn’t build around my heart until the day I became fed up from not hearing from her for so long that I showed up at her current house about 45 minutes away from where I was living, what I saw that day I wasn’t prepared for. I didn’t know whether she was back in prison, or just back on drugs. I pulled up to what looked like an empty home. I knocked on the door anyway, hoping that maybe the mom I always imagined in my head would answer the door. No response. I noticed a card sticking out of the door with a name and phone number on it that read, “Traci, please call me asap.” Traci is my mom’s name. I thought it seemed odd so I called the number myself and explained to the woman who I was and what I was doing. The woman was my mom’s parole officer and told me that she had been trying to get ahold of her as well. The panic set in, and I started to come to the conclusion that she was locked up again when the door opened behind me. The woman I saw was not my mom, at least not the version of my mom that I knew. This woman was broken. She didn’t care about her appearance. She didn’t care about anything. She explained to me that she was hiding in her home because people had been “breaking” in and she was scared. She was all alone and had been sleeping on the floor because someone stole all her furniture and bed. I was traumatized. I was heartbroken. I felt bad for her, but at the same time, I didn’t. Because she did this to herself. How could MY mom create this life for herself?

I left that day and completely shut down. I had seen it all. To this day I haven’t seen my mom in probably 3 or 4 years. I haven’t spoken to my mom on the phone in over 6 months…

Holidays is when it is the worst for me. My 23rd birthday just passed, and not a word from my mom. Graduations, Sorority mother/daughter weekends, Christmas… all just fly by with my mother growing more and more apart from my life. Even though I say all these things, my mother is not a bad person. She may do some terrible things, but she loves God and at the end of the day I know she loves me. She was always so funny and knew how to make me laugh when I was upset. She has the softest skin in the world. Even at my age now, I’d give anything to be able to cuddle up in her arms and lay my head on her incredibly soft chest. I am just scared. I am scared that one day instead of getting a call from a prison, I’ll get a different call. A call that’ll crumble my world into pieces. Losing my mom without getting to tell her one last time that I love her is my biggest fear. I pray every night that she is at least safe and that God would forgive her for all her sins.

Bad memories are not the only thing I received from a lack of one parent. Emotional, trust, relationship, and separation issues have all surfaced because of it. Yes, I admit that I have issues, but I have also learned a lot from this as well. I am probably one of the most forgiving people in this world, sometimes this is my downfall, but if I can forgive my mother for abandonment, then I can forgive easily for other minor things. I also know what NOT to do as a parent, I know the wrong type of man from the right one, and I know how to forgive myself for mistakes that I make and how to bounce back from traumas that I have experienced on my own.

I pray that one day I have the strength to look at my mom in the eyes again, and not feel any hurt or heartache. I pray that all these thoughts, memories, and emotions will eventually be a faded thing of the past and that I don’t have to think of her as a criminal or drug addict but just my MOM.

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