Pills and Potions

I grew up surrounded by addiction.  And I always knew it.  I know that from the time my little brain was able to form memories, I recognized that things weren’t right.  It started with my Mom.  She liked to drink.  And to smoke.  After my parents divorced when I was about 4, it became worse.  A lot of late nights and a lot of “don’t wake up Mom.”  What I didn’t know until much later is that she also had an addiction to pain pills after I was born and much of my care went to my Dad and my sister – who was 8. Finally my Mom decided she was over being a parent – as much as she had been – and I went to live with my Dad.  That move most likely saved my life even though it was not without complications.

Then four of my siblings started their path down the same road. Over the years their use of drugs and alcohol lead to health trouble, legal trouble, failed marriages and abandoned children.  My sister C kicked her drug habit years ago and was able to lead a really productive life.  My brother S has lasting health complications but is clean.  My brother G is still an addict and is in prison.  He is honestly the one person on this Earth that I would kill if I knew I wouldn’t be caught.  And now … right now … my sister T is in a hospital, just coming out of a coma.  Brought on by complications due to alcoholism/drug addiction.  She’s been clean a while but the damage was already done. 

I don’t know how I avoided it all other than I learned from their mistakes.  Maybe.  I had my fun drinking when I was younger but I saw that it was negatively affecting my life and stopped.  I stopped at the ripe age of 16.  Over the years I’ve tried a few drugs but nothing really impressed me.  I suspect that if I ever tried heroin that would be the end of me.  From what I’ve seen and heard, it would give me exactly what I crave so much … numbness.  But what’s weird is that I always choose anything but being numb – from natural childbirth to the wonderful pain of tattoos to the soreness after Leg Day.  I’ve learned that breathing in the pain is so much easier than fighting against it.  So listening to my Mom apologize for everything as she was dying, reading texts from my niece who is now caring for T who chose addiction over her own daughter and having to accept that people I once loved are gone long before they’re dead – that’s all just pain I have to breathe in and use to keep myself from going numb.