Mother knows best

The snapshot I've attached hit me hard.. I saw it on a Facebook feed, don't remember who posted it, sorry! It struck a cord, reminding me of the innocence we all possess as children while we are learning about the world around us and the people in it. Some stories of trauma and addiction have nothing to do with a person's home life or caregivers as children, but my story does. I wasn't sexually abused or trafficked or tortured, I wasn't poor, I had a big enough extended family and grandparents that spoiled me. The trauma I experienced as a child was the result of two people who had substance abuse problems, two people who fought hard, two people who had their own negative behaviors and coping skills that they had exhibited their entire lives, in turn handing them down to me. Other trauma was, of course, related to my health issues and there's too much to rehash here if you're just tuning in but if you'd like some more background, click here: Coco's Story - Recovering Beautifully 

<<<I did not wake up one day, decide to get fucked up and then decide to keep getting fucked up for the sheer fun of it. I discovered it felt better than the reality that I had been existing in. I made a conscious decision (not to get fucked up) to never go back to my old reality.

I've always been a worrier. "Worry-wart" was a popular dig as a child. What a lot of people didn't know was that many nights, as a child of only about 10 or 11 years old, I would silently agonize over my mom's whereabouts, trying not to pass my worries onto my two younger sisters who I was tasked to watch over. It is important to note that this was BEFORE cell phones and AFTER my mom became completely deaf due to opioid abuse. Needless to say, communication was NOT like it is now. Because she didn't have a way to get a hold of me, I would envision her being raped, beaten, and left for dead on the side of the road. I had no idea then what she was really doing (shoplifting/scoring/tracking down dealers) but this is where my 10 year old brain went. Maybe too much TV...no one really monitored it in our house.

When she finally was home at night, I never slept well because I had to keep checking on her...for some reason she kept falling asleep sitting up with lit cigarettes in her hand. Again, I had no idea what was actually wrong with her, just that she was really tired a LOT of the time. What was really going on and something I only came to realize a few years ago was that she was high and nodding out. I could not have predicted I would recreate that very scene almost nightly in my own life 20 years later.>>>

I brought a LOT of that worrying into my adult life. It hindered most of my relationships and caused an absurd amount of stress and anxiety.

I love my mom and I wish she would have gotten the right help when she truly needed it. But this one example just demonstrates the deep connection we have with our caregivers and how important it is to show our little ones the right way to act. The right way to treat themselves and others, how to tell the truth and how to ask for help. It's a little painful as I type this to remember how many nights I laid awake, how many ulcers my little sister had from worrying as much as I did, how many times my mom got high while we were in her custody. I have no anger toward her, just sadness, I wish she could learn the things I have learned about true recovery, I wish she had known true acceptance and compassion from her peers as I do today. 

I wish a lot of things. One thing I don't wish though is to change any of it. Not one single thing. Every obstacle I've lived through has brought me to this point. And I am happy, in my own perfectly imperfect reality.