I'm told I shouldnt wonder what the world would have been like if my mother had stayed sober while I was growing up- but I cant help it.
For the first six years I grew up, she drank heavily, but never touched heroin.
It wasnt like one day, she just dissappeared and came back as this angry, disoriented slob of a human being- she's always been that. It just gradually got more frequent.
Soon, I found myself doing my own laundry, cooking my siblings' dinner, paying for my own junk food (my dad took care of the main staples, although would never let us forget that we were 'costing him money'.
It seemed like we were being beaten and yelled at for everything.
I mean, there were good times..
They were just usually out of guilt, or had some kind of string attatched.
FOR EXAMPLE: If we got icecream or other junk = Either my mom will eat it and blame us for why she'd get fat, or we had to clean the house once we returned.
I remember getting a lecture for making noise in the morning for when we had to go to school.
UH, LADY, your kids are getting up in the morning to go to school.
They're making their own breakfast, gathering their own schoolwork, dressing themselves, and going off to a building ran by a complete psycho. DEAL WITH IT.
We were made to feel guilty about wanting to have friends over, or to go to other people's houses.
My parents stated they 'didnt want to take care of other people's children', although I have a sneaking suspicion this was due to embaressment they felt upon themselves.
Later in life, it esculated to pure violence. Often with either my mother or brother going completely insane (there was usually a substance to blame), beating the living shit out of whoever was there, then leaving everyone else to pick up the pieces.
This prompted everyone to get involved with alcohol, drugs; and to run away from home.
As a young woman, I'm still in the process of trying to figure out everything in life without a Mom.
I mean, she's still alive, but she's increadibly burnt out and senile.
I believe what everyone carries is called a 'pain-body'. Ekhart Tolle wrote about it.
Buddhism helps me quite a bit as well.
My Mother is a deeply mentally disturbed woman.
I'm not so sure if I do love her, but this Christmas, I gotta see all of them again.
Lets just hope the pain-body doesnt take over and turn me into that snivelling little girl in the corner again.