Drugs. Its crazy that such a tiny word can have so much power and so many emotions tied to it. That one little word has ripped so many families to shreds and left so many people in ruins in the aftermath of the tornado. I use the word tornado because they have much in common. Unpredictable, widespread damage and they both spare no mercy for their victims.
Drugs ripped my life apart at a very young age. I was taken into state custody, put into foster care and then adopted because my biological parents let drugs call the shots. I was a young innocent soul that had to take the back seat to their beloved drugs. I was one of the "lucky ones" because I got adopted into a loving family and I was given a fighting chance at life instead of floundering in the broken foster care system.
Even though my life after adoption was a great one; I was still left wondering why I had an achy, empty spot in my heart. Did they love me? Did they ever really care about me? Did they even want me? Who did I look like? Did I have my mom's smile or my dads laugh?
Right before I started high school I had a very serious bout of depression that required me to be hospitalized in a children's psychiatric unit for roughly a month, give or take a little. All of those thoughts combined with being an angsty preteen; it was the perfect storm brewing in my brain. I questioned my worth as a daughter and as a human being. I questioned the love my parents, the ones who raised me, had for me and how they could ever want me if the people that created me and gave birth to me didn't want me. It was all too much for my fragile mind to wrap itself around. I needed help to process all the thoughts and questions running through my mind. I needed healthy ways to express myself and creative outlets to get my hurt, frustration, anger and sadness out so it didn't eat me alive anymore. With medicine and therapy, I got better and I was able to get through high school with relatively minor bumps and bruises.
*Fast forward to a year after high school*
I had finally worked up the nerve to find and contact my biological parents. I was so excited and nervous but I so desperately needed answers to help soothe my worrisome mind. I needed any and all information about my past that could help fill in pieces of my identity that I thought were lost without that information. I went into the process thinking that I was going to have a great outcome; that it would be a reunion that you see on tv. Mother and daughter hugging, never letting go and making up for lost time every chance they got. My parents warned me that there was a very real chance that I wouldn't get the outcome that I wanted and needed. That I would get hurt all over again. They were right in quite a few ways but they were also wrong because I've met some amazing people that I never would have met without going through with meeting my biological mom. I did end up getting hurt because my biological parents were still doing drugs and they couldn't invest any time into getting to know their daughter. For several years I had so much anger because as time went on, I once again was taking the backseat to drugs. Empty promises, promises to keep in touch but then hearing from my biological mom once a year and then that turned into once every year and a half. At point we went over two years without talking because she was never on facebook and I had no cell phone number to reach her at. I didn't even have an address so I could send her a letter. The woman that gave birth to me and gave me life, kept bouncing in and out of it. Abandoning me every single time. That kind of rejection destroyed me. It ripped me to shreds every single day. I had so much anger towards her but I just couldn't sever that relationship.
In the last couple years, now that I have children of my own, I have set healthy boundaries but I will never be able to completely sever what I have going on with my biological mom because I hold out hope that one day she really will change, even though I know she probably won't. I don't let it ruin my life anymore. I still think about her and pray for her but it no longer has the front seat in my life. I will always love her because she gave birth to me and ultimately, not by choice, ended up letting me have a good life with my forever family. As I get older it gets easier to see things in perspective, from a mother's point of view. I no longer hold onto the anger; and the hurt comes in waves that crash onto the rocks and then quickly head back out to sea.
There is a silver lining to all of this. Out of this adventure I have gotten to meet all 3 of my biological siblings and develop an awesome bond with two of them. I got to meet my grandma and she has been such a sweet, amazing person. She was genuinely excited that I had come back to them. She gave me validation for my feelings and gave me some difficult answers that I needed. Because of drugs, my life was ripped apart in a moments notice and then lovingly stitched back together into the tapestry of a loving family.
Drugs. A word that holds a lot of sadness for me. I don't hate my biological parents but I hate their addiction with every fiber of my being. Drug addicts are people too. They are human and they have their faults just like each and every one of us. "That druggie" has a family, had a life worth living at some point and even though they have wandered down a path of destruction, they deserve love too. I don't condone my biological parents behaviors and how they have acted and I no longer make excuses for them. They have a serious problem and I can only hope that they have gotten help.
*Disclaimer* My biological parents are not bad people. It's been at least a year since I have talked to my biological mother so she might be clean at this point. And from what I have heard from my siblings, my biological father is sober!! I have never met him so everything in this article after I met my biological mother is about her.
