Personal Narrative: The Right Of Passage

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For the fifth time that night, I walked over to my mom’s bed to see if she was breathing. I felt the relief wash over me when I saw that she was breathing. She had started to slur her words after dinner around six thirty. Judging by my past experiences this meant she popped a handful of her usual pills around quarter to six. There was nothing out of the ordinary for me in the situation. This was every day life for me, the years leading up to my first year of high school. I was fourteen, and I had been taking care of her from what felt like the time I could walk. Little did I know that would be the last night I had to wake up in twenty-minute increments to check on her. When morning came my bags are being packed, confused I asked what was going on? My aunt walked in to the living room and simply said, “you will be living with me.” Just a short phrase changes my life forever on a day I’ll never forget. It was in the…show more content…
I gladly would of gave up that right. The amount of times we yelled at the top of our lungs was outmatched by the amount of her pills I would find hidden. My mom would hide her pills in every spot she could think of. Whether it was the compartments in her wallet, the inside of her pillowcase, the pockets of her clothes, or even in my VHS tape of the lion King. That tape use to be a great childhood memory, a memory now tainted by pain. A lot of my childhood disappeared due to her addiction. Sleeping eight hours before school the next morning? I was lucky if I have three consent hours of rest. My grades suffered for this as well. Understandably though, how could I get an A on a test when I was falling asleep during the class. Every failed test got sent home to sign, and every time she gave the same response “Honestly Crystal I can’t understand why you can’t get better grades, you have all the time in the world to study.” I would just sit there thinking because I’m too busy raising my
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