I apologize in advance for the length of this. It is not short. If you make it through the whole blog, you're the bomb.com

I suppose life for me has been harder than a normal childhood. It's like my childhood had been unintentionally robbed from me through my mom's drug use. I don't remember it always being bad, but what factors into that is that I can't recall a lot of the good memories, because it's instilled throughout my brain the pain, and trauma that we had endured as children who had a parent addicted to drugs. I don't specifically remember the good, but more of the bad.

My mother, my best friend, is such a beautiful, loving, caring, and special person in my life, and for that, I don't share even an ounce of hate towards her for what we had experienced throughout our childhood. I know the kind of person that she is, now that she is sober, a loving, crazy, humorous, adventurous mother, which has been for over 10 years, but I'm also aware of the monster that drug addicts are portrayed as due to being influenced by such a strong pull of how invincible you seem to be while under the influence. I believe the sober mom would have done everything in her power to stop what she was doing, if she would have realized that she would have creating a lifetime full of problems for her children, I suppose more of me specifically. If she could have stopped herself through her own will, it would have been easier for us, but she needed help throughout other resources, and that's not a bad thing either, but when your mother is the Super Women in your life, and you get ripped from the life you've known with her, it's life your world is thrown into chaos, nothing is the same, you don't get tucked in every night, or wake up for school in the morning, having your mother rush you to the bus, grabbing a snack for you before leaving through the front door for the bus.

I remember growing up the the new, shiny, best toys and clothes. For my fifth birthday, three and a half year old brother and I got Harley Davidson Power Wheel motorcycles. I got the Harley Davidson barbie motorcycle in a light pink, and gray, with light purple lightning bolt stickers throughout the sides of it, and purple plastic carriers attached to the back, that usually contained rocks, sticks, leaves, or a random piece of baby clothing for my dolls. My brother got a black Harley motorcycle, set up just like mine, with flames on his, and black plastic carriers in the back as well. I thought it was so awesome having such nice things, a such cool toys, but that awesome toy was most likely bought with money that sourced from selling drugs, and if I would have known that, I would have given all of the toys, and fancy accessories away just to have a sober mother. I would have lived in a box with my mom and brother, just to have a sober parent.

One of the strongest, most terrifying memories I've had is when I accompanied my mom on what I guess was a drug run, which I don't know what kind of drugs were being dealt with at the time, but when it comes down to me being about 4 years old, sitting in a booster seat in the back seat of an older car, and watching my mom fight with a tall, dark, evil looking man, while sitting in the driver's seat, and him standing next to the window, it seemed important enough to realize something bad is happening. We left a birthday party, which my brother had stayed behind at to play, but everywhere my mom went, I wanted to follow. Whether it was the store, work, a friend's house, or an unbeknownst drug deal gone sideways. The house was next door to the gas station close to our house, the house being a slime colored green, with light colored shutters, and siding falling down. The current tenants at the time didn't seem to keep up with the property as much as it should have been, because it had potential, such as any house. The shot of pepper spray to his face initially stunned him, and then he started to get angrier, and starting yelling louder, I just remember screaming and crying because I thought this man hurt my mom, the person I looked up to so much in life, and I didn't know what had happened to her at the time of all of the commotion going on. If that man is somehow reading this today, I just wanted to let you know, you deserved more pepper spray to the face for giving, or taking drugs to/from a mother with a child in the car. I'm not saying that the actions of my mother were the right one's, but neither were yours, and I hope you've also straightened up your life since then, because if you haven't, I'm sure you're either in prison, of 6 foot under a headstone with the worms, which happens to be an unfortunate thing to think about in all honesty, but not everyone is capable of being saved.

After my sister was born, we moved to a town where we were surrounded by family, in hopes that it would help the situation. We moved to a tan, two story house, where I shared a room with my little sister, and my brother had a room off of ours. It seemed like life was getting easier, or I was just too young to know what was going on "behind closed doors". I would wake up to people sleeping on the couch, who I didn't know. Or, my aunt and her friends who were skipping school (we've all been there, or at least most of us). I'd get up for school, and come home afterwards to play with the other neighborhood kids, riding our bikes, my aunt would pick my brother and I up and go up to the store by our house, and get us Slush Puppie slushies every day. It seemed normal, like everything was over, and then, one night, it was like the storm rushed in from nowhere, seizing everything in that moment, and just carrying the pain for a lifetime.

It was a normal school night, and my mom had asked me to keep an eye on my brother and sister while she ran up to the store to get milk, but I wasn't prepared for that. Even though the store was right up on the corner of the street we lived on, I wanted to go to sleep so I could go to school tomorrow. Normally, kids hated school, but I actually enjoyed learning and seeing other friends. She had asked our neighbor to come over and watch us for a few minutes, but the few minutes turned into hours, and she never came home.It's kind of like the known dad joke, he went to get milk and never came home. Well, that joke was my reality at 7 years old.

Police officers came that morning with Child Protective Services, family members, as well as chaos, grief, questions as a 7 year old who wasn't aware of what was going on.

My aunt brought us to her house on the other side of town, as we sat there not quite sure why we weren't going to school, where our mom was, when she was coming to get us. At that point, I realized we weren't going back to my mom's. I sat in the brown recliner in front of the TV and silently cried in my lap. I cried to the point of not being able to flush any tears out of my swollen eyes.

My grandparents ended up taking my brother, sister and I. There was nights where my sister and I were sleeping, and my brother would come into the room and lay with me and cry so hard because he just wanted to be back at our moms. We love our grandparents so much that it's indescribable, and we appreciate every single thing that they have done and still continue to do for us. They were our saviors as everything was getting thrown out of place and mixed up like a vicious tide rolling through before a storm, but every child needs their mother, and it hurt us every day we didn't come home to her because we wanted nothing more than that.

We went through a period of time where we weren't allowed to see my mom and dad (who was deployed at the time of all of this happening), and they would stop by my grandmas, even though they weren't supposed too, and everything felt right again. There was times where drug tests would be failed and our visits were cancelled until the next one and I hated the people who wouldn't allow us to see our mom, even though they were keeping the best interest and intentions for us. My parents moved closer to my grandparents, about three quarters of a mile down the road, and we started to have weekends with them again and everything was getting back to normal.

Two years later, my mom completed everything she needed too in order for her to get back custody of us. She stayed sober, and overcame the demons and the person that she was before for us to lead a normal life again.

Twelve, or thirteen years later, and my mom is my best friend. She is the person that I call when I'm angry, when I'm eating fried chicken in my car on my lunch break, the mother that I call when everything is fine and the first one I call when I need advice or to just vent. She was strict with us kids growing up, and made sure we had the best life that we could. She yelled, she cried, she laughed with us, and it was all to make sure that we would turn out as respectful, successful adults. Her and my dad own a cute little house now in Carthage, my brother is currently in basic training and my little sister is still in high school, wanting to go to Julliard when she graduates for dance (I think).

The lows in life are very low. The lows we encountered anyways, but the best part of life is that every single day is a new day. It is a new opportunity to change the future, and improve yourself in any way that you can.

Addiction is hard. It is strenuous, it drains everyone you're surrounded by, and leaves long-term effects. It's bad enough to damage yourself, but don't add unnecessary damage to your children due to the lifestyle you decide to partake in. It leads to anxiety, depression, a child who thinks she needs to be a perfectionist and has a daily schedule because nothing can be thrown off. I don't like change. I don't like trying new things. I like a daily routine where I know nearly nothing bad is going to come from changing something up, but as I get older, it's getting easier. Life is hard. It's hard to deal with a childhood such as one I've experienced. I know people have harder lives than I do and I'll be the first to admit this but there's something hard in everyone's life that affects them daily.. If not, you're lucky I suppose.

If you're reading this, & struggle with addiction, overcome it to better yourself. If you have children, fix your life so they can lead a happy one without the stress of dealing with an addict of a parent. I'm so thankful my mom was able to turn her life around, and over 10 years later, she's showing it as well. She's my best friends, and many lessons have been taught to me through the experienced we've been through. There is nothing that is too tough to overcome, and if it is, get help. Reach out to make yourself have a better life and the life you deserve.