Child of an Addict

by Timia Carruthers

  “Tiffany! What is it?!” May was in instant rescue mode.

  “Mommy is on the floor in the bathroom and she’s not moving!”

  May threw the items she had in her hand and ran up the stairs as fast as she could. Not knowing what she was about to walk into she began to pray, “Lord, please keep her Lord. Protect her from all hurt harm and danger. Give her strength to fight this race she is fighting. Help me Lord!” May ran to Tammy’s side once she reached the bathroom and yelled for Tiffany to bring her the phone.

  “911, what’s your emergency?”

  “My granddaughter is unconscious and unresponsive. I think she may have overdosed!”

  “Where would you like us to take her ma’am?”

  “Wishard.”

  ***

  “She’ll be on a 48 hour hold in the substance abuse ward.”

  “Ok, thank you.”

  “She was lucky this time; she barely had a pulse when we got here.”

  “It wasn’t luck, it was God,” May said boldly to the paramedic that was wheeling her grandchild out of her house.

  “Wait!” Tiffany yelled to the men in the white shirts with the scoops around their necks.

  “Yes?” one of them said.

  Eyes still brimming with tears, she asked, “Can I kiss her and say bye?”

  “Of course, you can.” The men lowered the gurney down to Tiffany’s height and she made contact with her mother’s eyes. Tiffany kissed her mother and said “I love you more than life, Mommy.” Tammy closed her eyes while the tears fell from them, without saying a word, she turned her head away from her child. Tiffany watched as they loaded Tammy into the ambulance and drove away. With no words to offer her at the moment, May took Tiffany into her arms, sat in the chair and just rocked her.

  CHAPTER 8

  “ Tiffany. Tiffany!” Chris had called Tiffany’s name a few times since coming in the house with no response. Upon walking over to the table, he noticed her sleeping on the couch but she seemed to be making a whimpering sound, which was something he had never noticed before. He touched her gently and called her name again. This time she jumped as if she wasn’t aware of where she was. “Baby, are you ok?” Tiffany realized she was dreaming and gathered herself.

  “Yes, I’m ok. Must have been dreaming.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, how was your day?”

  Chris, not sure if he should let it go or press the issue, decided to come back to it later. “It was a regular day. How did your meeting go?”

  “It went well, she booked.”

  “That’s great, baby. Let’s eat, take a shower, and watch a movie tonight. I need to relax.” Tiffany knew this was the recipe for sleep for her husband. Just what she needed him to do. She wanted to start on the homework she was given and finish her slides.

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Before they could get twenty minutes into the movie, Chris was asleep and Tiffany was completing her task. She got the slides and information for her newest client done in about forty-five minutes and was ready to begin the homework that Mrs. Brown had given her. ‘Write a letter to the person you are the most angry with in your life’ was the instruction she was given. Little did she know that this was going to be a task that would prove to be the hardest of them all.

  ***

  It was the night before she was to see Mrs. Brown again and Tiffany only had a few sentences down on a piece of paper. It wasn’t that she hadn’t attempted to write the letter, she tried to do it every night while lying in bed. She tried to do it while she waited for the kids to get out of school and in between clients. Any down time she had, she would use to try to complete this task. But much to her surprise, every time she tried, the emotions that came over her were just too much to handle. Her panic attacks would come over her like the devil in church on Easter Sunday and she would just walk away from it but she was determined to complete the task before her appointment. So, with blood shot, puffy eyes, she was up all night writing and praying for strength. When she was finally done, she realized it was only thirty minutes before Chris’ alarm was to go off so she decided to go downstairs and fix him breakfast.

  She was just about to pull the biscuits out of the oven when she heard the alarm going off. Knowing her husband would sleep through it, she went to wake him and much to her surprise he was awake. “I can’t believe it, you’re awake.”

  “Well, that makes two of us. I can’t believe I was awakened by the smell of bacon. What has us in such a good mood? And don’t lie and say it’s me because my services were not rendered to you last night.” They both laughed at Chris’ comment.

  “I was wide awake and decided to do something nice for my husband. Get dressed and come on down so you can eat.” No quicker than she could turn and walk out of the bedroom door she heard her child’s voice.

  “Mama, is that bacon I smell?”

  “Yes, son.”

  “Can we eat it now?”

  “No, but I’ll have yours ready when you get up for school.”

  Tiffany had fixed Chris’ plate and made herself a cup of coffee and was at the table waiting on him when he came down the stairs. The two shared their plans for the day and it was time for him to go. After completing his morning routine of good-byes, he was out the door and on his way to work. Tiffany had cooked enough breakfast for the kids to eat as well so she covered their plates up and headed back up to try and get a few hours of sleep before her day officially started. Before she knew it, the alarm was going off for the second time of the morning. Time to get the kids up and off for school. She got them up and went back into her room and laid down and tried to piece together the dream that has been reoccurring for some time now. In the dream, she can never see the young girl’s face. She is always looking at her from the back or a side view. The girl is always reaching out for someone. And why is she always walking into a door of some sort with a male figure? The dream was beginning to bother Tiffany because she didn’t know what to make of it and each time there seemed to be a new piece of it that would come to pass. Was someone trying to tell her something or was it just her imagination running away with her? She wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t going to let it go that easily.

  One by one Cash, CJ, and Cori came in before they left out to say thanks for breakfast and that they loved her. Tiffany did the norm, told them each that she loved them more than life and to have a good day. Once they were gone, Tiffany got up, turned her gospel music on, and started her daily routine of bed making, cleaning, and washing. She had some time before her appointment with Mrs. Brown so she decided to catch up on her emails and pay a few bills online. While deleting the abundance of junk mail, she came across an email from an unfamiliar name, Kimberly Andrews. Her initial thought was to just delete it but the subject got her attention; ‘I am a friend of your mother’s’. Tiffany had not spoken to her mother in months so this caused her to go into an instant, full blown panic attack. She became instantly nauseous and shaky. She was frantically looking for her anxiety pills that she kept next to her bed as she felt like the walls were closing in on her. After taking two, she sat in her chair rocking and praying until she was calm enough to open the email.

  Hello Tiffany,

  I’m sure you are wondering who I am and how I got your email address so I will address that first. I got your business card from your mother a long time ago when I was living the life of the world. Your mother and I used to do the same things from drugs to prostitution, until I got locked up. I’m happy to say I have been clean and sober now for two years, five months, and twenty days. I am emailing you in hopes of getting in touch with Tammy. Your mother was the one person who kept me alive while I was in my season of wilderness. Although we were in harm’s way night after night and day after day for months at a time, she would never leave me and she always prayed for us. No one would ever understand the life of addict unless they have been one. We live our lives for the next hit. Always searching for the feeling that we got f
rom that very first one but never again finding it. And the mission becomes ‘do whatever it takes to get the next round.’ And if that meant stealing from your family, having sex with a complete stranger, or lying, so be it. Nothing or no one matters when you are in that state of mind. It’s sad to say, but it’s the honest truth. We as addicts don’t realize how it affects not only us but also the people we love. I ran across an old associate the other day and he mentioned that Tammy was still living the street life. I would love to show her there is hope for us. That all outcomes are not bad, that those prayers did not go unheard. I have enclosed my number and address. Please give it to her and tell her I’ll be awaiting her call and visit.

  Kim

  After reading the email Tiffany wished she could relay the message, but she had no clue where her mother was.

  ***

  “Well, hello there. Come on in and have a seat. I’ll be with you in just a second.” Tiffany was a little shocked she didn’t have another panic attack and then she remembered she had popped two happy pills not too long before she left the house. “So how are you today Mrs. Newton?”

  “I’m well and yourself?”

  “Oh, I think I am doing well despite this cold I’m trying to get over, thanks for asking. How was your week, and give it to me straight, no chaser.”

  “It has been an unexpectedly rough one for me. I didn’t know that writing a letter was so hard and draining. It literally took me all week.”

  “How was it rough for you?”

  “I knew what I wanted to say, however when I sat down to write, it was like a weight was on my hand and my eyes were a pitcher of water.”

  “Ok, so when that happened, what did you do, how did you get past it?”

  “I just walked away from it and came back when I felt I could.”

  “How did you feel when you accomplished the task.”

  “I really don’t know how to feel about it, Mrs. Brown.”

  “And that’s ok, Tiffany. You don’t have to feel anything about it. The assignment was to get your feelings out on paper. The next step is for you to listen to and hear your feelings in your own words.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I’m going to read it to you. Who is your letter to, Mrs. Newton?”

  With tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat she answered, “My mother.”

  “Ok, where is it?” Tiffany went into her oversized black classic Coach bag and pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed to her. Mrs. Brown could sense the uneasiness and fear in her demeanor, so she attempted to calm her. “Tiffany, I want you to take a deep breath and try to relax. Remember when I told you this was not going to be an easy process?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good, because this is going to be the beginning of the hard parts, but together, we are going to get you through today. One day at a time ok?”

  With a trembling voice, wet face, and runny nose, she answered, “Ok.”

  I am writing to you because I was told to, not because I want to. You are the very reason why I am the way I am. As much as I have tried to hate, dismiss, and erase you from my life, I can’t. It’s like you have this silent power over me. You seem to be embedded in my soul in a place that depression, darkness, and dysfunction dwells. When I think about how you just dismissed your responsibility as a mother, it hurts me to my core. Even more so now, because I have my own children and can’t imagine not seeing them every day or being there to watch them grow and mature into young adults. Where the fuck were you when I was touched inappropriately? Where were you when I came on my period for the first time? These are just a few of the questions that I have for you. You are the very reason I don’t trust. The reason I don’t allow myself to love wholeheartedly. The reason I’m apprehensive of every relationship I have ever encountered from work, business, love and even family members. I mean I just don’t get it. You carried me for nine months. You felt me grow and move inside of you. Did you not love me then? You gave birth to a child and gave it away like it was just an old, dirty piece of cloth. How could you do that and be ok with it? You knew where I was, but you never came to see me. Is that what a mother’s love is? You didn’t care if I succeeded or failed in life, you couldn’t have. My teachers knew nothing of you. Hell, you weren’t even an emergency contact on any enrollment forms. I think I could handle the shit better if you were just completely absent, but no that would have been too damn easy for you. You had to come in and out of my life like the seasons in a year. Not caring about the detrimental damage you were doing to the child you created. As a mother, you were supposed to be the one that taught me how to be a woman. How to cook, and clean be independent, love unconditionally, take care of my hygiene, pay bills, you know, the normal shit mothers do. But instead, you unknowingly taught me how to lie, cheat, manipulate, hurt the ones that truly love me, and sabotage relationships in an effort to protect myself from being hurt by someone other than you. Yet, I think I am now at a point in my life that I can just say fuck it! I am who the fuck I am and I just have to come to damn grips with the shit. Who am I? I am the child of an addict. And with that comes a lot of bullshit I didn’t ask for, but it’s my reality. And you wouldn’t have a clue what that reality is either, so how about I shed a little light on it for you? There have been times in my life where I have just wanted to give up simply because I felt hopeless. I have thought about using the very same poisons you use just to see what could’ve had you so messed up that you didn’t even want me. When I became, pregnant I was so afraid of becoming just like you with my child. I mean, it wasn’t out of the question, my life was full of fucked up individuals. My mother, grandmother, aunt, and father, from what I knew, all fuckin crack heads. And then to live in the house at one point with, not one, but two alcoholics- I didn’t think I stood a chance of being a good mother. But thank God, he had other plans for me. She did all she could to make sure I was good and I am so thankful for her because if it had not been for Granny, I could have been just another statistic like you. You should be thanking God daily that someone loved you enough to take on your responsibilities and never looked back. The day I had my first child changed me. I let all the fear I had of being like you drive me to be the mother and person you are not. I made a promise to myself to be the best mother I could to my child and any other that I may have had later on in life. When I realized the cycle was starting over with me, I made a decision that the bondage would end right there. I would not allow my children to carry the weight of my family’s curses on their shoulders. So, your grandchildren will never know what it feels like to not know their mother loves them. Your grandchildren will not know what it feels like to be abandoned by their mother. They will not know how it feels to look out in a room full of people at a choir performance and not see their mother there to support them. They will not be the child that parents the parent. I used to wonder what my life would have been like if I was in the same household with you living like a child should with their parent. Would you have fixed my breakfast for me in the morning? Combed my hair at night or wait until the morning? Would you have done simple things like sit on the floor and play with me? Teach me my ABC’s and numbers? How would it have been to have my friends look up to you as someone they could trust and confide in like my children’s friends are with me? But those are all faded daydreams and things that will never come to pass for me. So, the things you didn’t do, I do for my own. And it’s not easy because I have done so much to overcompensate for what I didn’t have, my kids don’t know what it feels like to not have or to go without, and in the long run, that may not be the best scenario for them. I have worked hard for them to feel stable, not only in our home, but to also be stable emotionally. And coming from me that is harder than it sounds, I’m not emotionally stable myself. I have been putting on that front for years. Wearing a mask to protect people from the real me. When the truth is, I am wearing the mask for myself. To cover and protect myself from all the turmoil and trauma that I have refu
sed to acknowledge in the past. So, I have to take credit for some of my hurt and dysfunction because I have allowed it to consume me for so many years. I’m beyond tired of this feeling. I feel like I’m about to lose it. It’s time for me to heal myself, and in doing so, I have to be ok with who I am. Most importantly, I have to accept who you are. I can’t change you, you are who you are. I now understand that no matter what, what I need is not on your list of priorities. Furthermore, you will not change until you are ready. So today I say thank you, thank you showing me what not to do in life and with the lives of my children also. A child’s love for their mother is one that will always be there no matter the circumstances. The level of love is the question. I will always love you, I’ve never questioned that. For a long time, I have envisioned this relationship with you in which I couldn’t wait to get to my mommy’s house just to lay in bed with you and watch television. Call you before and after work to make sure you are ok or to just say I love you. To drop your grandchildren off at your house for a weekend visit. Or simple things like shopping on the weekends or calling you when I have had a rough day and just need you as my security blanket. As a mother, I offer those things without thinking about it. In the back of my mind I feel like I am missing a major piece to your puzzle of life. Something had to have happened to you. I pray that one day you can find closure. But for now, I have to find my own. In doing so I must forgive you, Mama. So, with the help of God, Mrs. Brown, and myself I’m starting my road to recovery. I know now that I may have made it over a lot of life’s obstacles but I never allowed myself to go through them. I will continue to pray for you daily. And even though it’s too late for you to be what I needed, it’s never too late to love and be loved.