They say that some people are more prone to an addictive personality, like a sleeping dragon waiting to be woken. I truly believe that fact, and the way i was raised, created the perfect storm that is my addiction.
I was born to a bipolar mother and a father that left before i was born. For the first 7 years of my life i was the only child. One of my first memories is being locked out of my mothers room, with wet pajamas, sitting on a heater trying to get warm. My mother wasnt the worst mother out there, but she certainly wasnt the best. She either cared to much and punished to hard, leaving bruises up and down my back and legs or she would just stay in bed as i ran free. Im sure you can imagine the confusion this would cause for a small child. One day watching the little mermaid was perfectly fine, the next day it was evil, i was a bad child for watching it and i deserved a spanking.
By the time i was 9 i had two little brothers. I learned very quick how to take care of them when my mother could not/would not. Looking back on it all i had to grow up fast. It wasnt all bad. My mother had her good days where fun was to be had, home meals cooked and it felt like a normal family. Unfortunately those days did not out number the bad and the court system removed me from my mothers care around the age of 12 and placed me with my grandmother .
My grandmother. Without her i may be dead this very moment. She was the light in a very dark tunnel in my young mind.
My grandmother played the role of mother and father for most of my life. When i was with her it felt as close to normal as i could imagine. No “you are going to be bad today anyways” spanking, no screming, no days spent laying in bed. Just normal. Just happy.
I lost her this past July. On my mothers birthday. Even though they hadnt really spoken in years i knew it had to hurt my mother. Loss is a knife that cuts deep and never heals back to the perfect state that was. As this loss cut a hole out of my heart, i filled it with more and more heroin.