Personal Narrative: My Mother's Prescription Drug Abuse

In the fall of 2012, my mother almost succumbed to her illness. I had just begun my freshman year of high school midst angry conversations between my parents and the threat of separation. It would seem as if they bickered about the most irrelevant things, almost as if they had no other reason to fight other than the fight itself. Those moments were excruciatingly lonely, my father worked until the dead of night and my mother would come home exhausted from treatment. I now know that there was no one who felt more unvalued than my mother. I wish I had the ability to iron away this blunder that destiny had fabricated, however foolish this desire is.

It was my senior year in high school when my mom told me that my cousin, Mayra, had given birth to a baby girl. However, child protective services decided that Mayra wasn’t adequate to take care of the child; due to her drug abuse. Child protective services from Mexico were trying to place the baby with close relatives. Sadly, there was only three choices, her grandma, my aunt Gloria, and myself. The choices were few and the family small.

After not talking to my mother for about 6 months and trying to give her time to recover and realize that I was not going to be a part of her life If she continued to go down the path she was going on, her alcoholism got worse. I eventually reached out to her to tell her that I cared for her and that I would always be there for her, however it was too late and she was too far gone. On December 15th of 2016, my mother attempted to commit suicide. Thankfully, she survived and is now over 6 months sober. Although this event caused a lot of heartache and sorrow, it helped me realize the detrimental effects of addiction and how it can take someone's life so quickly. This also shaped me as a person in many ways, as I began to acknowledge the importance of the people around you and how vital it is to care and love others no matter what. Being a child of divorce, an alcoholic mother, and an easily tempered father was my environment for several years, and all of the hardships and wonderful things that came from it shaped me into the person that I am

That day when I returned home from school, my mom’s boyfriend called me asking to speak to my grandmother. Typically, Gus would call my grandmother himself if he wanted to speak with her, which was rare. I found out about my mom going to the hospital from my grandmother after that phone call. The doctor told my family that a stroke afflicted her in the middle of the day. My mom confused the date with her birthday, had trouble getting words out and remembering our family member’s names. The nurse had to take her for walks periodically and exercise her legs and arms because they were weak. Seeing my mother in this condition made me appreciate my mother and everything she does for me tremendously. However, I was terrified for my mother’s health.

I lost my mom due to drugs. The use of drugs doesn't just effect the person doing them, but it effects the people around them too. My mom is a drug abuser and it has effected my life tremendously. She not only ruined her life, but she has changed mine forever. Some of the effects from my moms drug addiction includes her getting a divorce, neglecting me and my brother, resulting in us moving in with our dad, and her ending up in jail multiple times.

That day I realized I wasn’t as special as I thought I was. I was an accident, a big mistake. I soon realized my mom never graduated from High School and that she could be sent back to Mexico at any moment. My dad, on the other hand, graduated from high school and after I was born he got his associates degree in some type of engineering. My dad’s degree was my families advantage. Even with his degree, my mom is still my idol. She is the toughest person I know. She worked two 8 hour shifts when my dad went to school, she never cared what might happen to her as long as my siblings and I were happy. She walks with honor and pride even when people tried to bring her down, and trust me they tried. They used me as the trigger. I am the reason she never made it to

Growing up with my father Scott, mother XXXX, and my beautiful sister Paige, I find it easy to reminisce of the happy times we shared together. However, not matter how dearly I pray of ignorance, I can’t erase what has happened from my mind. When I was rather young, my mother was deported back to the UK from which of where she is originally from, due to drug addiction issues. Experiencing the matter from first hand, watching my mother fall, grasping with all her life to find herself inside, whilst clamoring for her next high, tears me up inside to this day. The day she left us was the day I felt that my family couldn’t cope without her. I could never believe that my father could do for us what my mother was able to do. My suspicions to begin with were indeed correct, as we endured homeless shelters. Being in and out of homeless shelters ruined not only my family life, but also my social life. Having to explain to your young friends that you don’t really have a home, is a something I would never wish upon my bitterest of

I have illegally used alcohol in my lifetime. I illegally used alcohol when I was under the legal drinking age of 21. While under the legal drinking age of 21 I drank alcohol in high school whenever it was provided at a party or when a sibling of a friend of mine would buy use alcohol for the night.

Ever since I was only a few months old, my birth mother put drugs and herself before anyone else, including my father and I. My father is originally from Saudi Arabia and came to America for better opportunities and to make his family proud. After a few months of living in Oklahoma, he met my mother and they ended up getting married. They soon found out that my mother was pregnant with me and they were both elated. After I was born, my father began to notice that my mother was acting strangely and not being herself; this was obviously a result of her getting back on drugs. My father did not have the prior knowledge that my mother had been on drugs and had quit them multiple times before having met him. One night my father came home from work

    In life, many things can be taken for granted - especially the things that mean the most to you. You just might not realize it until you've lost it all. As I walk down the road finishing up my teenage days, I slowly have been finding a better understanding of my mother. The kind of bond that mothers and daughters have is beyond hard to describe. It's probably the biggest rollercoaster ride of emotions that I'll ever have the chance to live through in my lifetime. But, for those of us who are lucky enough to survive the ride in one piece, it's an amazing learning experience that will influence your entire future.

Over the next 20 days she gave me information and I gave her my full cooperation. Apparently my Mother created some type of drug and once she realized it could control people she tried to destroy it. Mrs. Bisson saw this as selfish and hates my Mother. My mother then created a virus out of anger and it is just now somehow showing up. Mrs. Bisson never told me what exactly happened to my Mother, but I assumed the worst. Realizing how twisted this government was I had to prove my Mother was right for trying to destroy this drug, and the only way of that was finishing what she tried to do and actually destroy the drug. Over the last twenty days I have earned free range over the office, making my escape I have been planning a lot easier. It

This was the moment my brother’s drug abuse began. This changed not only my brother’s life but the entirety of my family dynamic. As we discussed in class, family is the greatest influence on teens. However, out of this time of darkness a passion was sparked within me. This passion came out of horrid circumstances, but amongst the drug abuse and mental diagnosis developed a passion for counseling. As I was the family council to my mother, father, and when allowed brother. I remember the day of his diagnosis. He was fresh out of high school and had been delving deeper into drugs. I will never forget when my mom and dad left in the middle of the night to go get him from a gas station hour away from home. He was having a bad reaction to whatever he had taken and as a result ender up in a rehabilitation center. I will never forget my mother telling me that my brother had bipolar disorder. This brought to light all of the things he had struggled with since childhood. Through it all, from the drug addiction to the sleepless nights, I was my mother’s stability. She leaned on me for support. It was in those many moments I learned the necessity of counseling in the darkest of times in

It was a bone chilling January night; my mom received a call at about 11:15 PM, a call that changed my life forever. My Aunt June was on the other line. She was crying so hard my mother could barely understand her. Through the sobbing my mom finally understood that Brian, my cousin, had been in a horrible accident and she didn’t know how bad it was. My mother jumped out of the bed after she hung up the phone. She screamed up the stairs at my sister and me; it was a nerve shrilling scream. I could hear fear in her voice. My mom was always yelling at us growing up if we forgot to do something. She would even get us out of bed to finish something that wasn’t done completely. This particular

It was May 17th, 2011, it was a normal school day when my brother and I were told that my mom called to say that she was picking us up early. I was anxious, wondering why we were going home early and breaking our usual routine. When my mom came to get us, the first thing that I noticed was that she didn’t greet us with her usual smile. I was 9 years old, very observant, but not able to sense what was to come. We got into the car, when I asked my mom where we were going hoping

As a young adult, I was on top of the world. I married after two years of college, and then quit school. My husband and I lived in a comfortable home. We both had successful careers. I was at the top of my field in a growing industry, after a few years of hard work and consistent forward progression. My husband and I enjoyed frequent large gatherings with our families, or groups of friends. We led an active and very social life. My mother was my best friend and my most loyal fan. I had all I wanted. I was happy and content to believe that nothing would change. Ten short years later, I reflected on that part of my life and thought to myself that I barely recognized that person. As a single mother, working for minimum wage, I lived in a one-room efficiency garage apartment. Not only was it small, it was infested with roaches and varmints. My parents, also divorced, had both remarried and the family gatherings ceased. My father and his wife moved across the country. We drifted apart. My father had eventually passed away at an early age and we never had the chance to reconnect. I continued to support my mother financially, as I had when I was younger. Her husband had never been able to keep a job, so she turned to me for help. When my situation changed, my mother’s expectations and spending habits did not. Bitterness and depression surrounded me at every turn. I realized I had succumbed to the environment in which I was living. I was working three jobs, caring for a small child,