I was five when I first saw my mother high.
Of course I didn't understand. She was hurting in a way I will never understand.
She became pregnant with a little girl, but because of everything she had done to her body, the baby's life was short-lived.
Rest in peace, Elena.
She would pop pills to kill her pain. I watched my mother overdose on several occasions. She watched people she loved overdose and die, yet she still did it.... That was my mom, I wanted to protect her. I never told anyone what I saw.
I remember one day specifically though; my mom, her bestfriend, and I were all driving around when we stopped at this huge building. My mother said she would be home by dinner, but she didn't come home. I asked grandma where she was and she said my mother would be gone for a little bit.
Little did I know she was in prison.
For what, I guess I'll never know. That was MY mom and she had left me. Why wasn't I good enough? Why did she have to leave? What did I do wrong? I have learned since then, it wasn't my fault. Never has been and never will be. She's better now, but there will always be a fear that maybe she won't stay better. Maybe I will always be the addict's daughter....
Author Notes: this is a true story of my own....sorry for any grammar mistakes...