Table of Contents
Lately I have been truly attempting to figure out how addiction starts in the beginning… and why I started using… and why I continued to use.
When I was young, naïve and spiteful the answer was simple; my mom.
I grew up with an absent father, as he worked internationally, and so my mother was tasked to raise my brother and me. This was not an easy job by any means, and so my mother fell victim to an incredibly deep and debilitating depression.
Confused as to what was going on, but at the same time knowing something was wrong I tried to fix my mother. I spent energy trying to make her laugh, or just smile but these rare instances were far between and short lived. Her suicidal tendencies were frightening and what I had, at first, tried to fix I began to internalized.
What if her second son, the one with the Japanese middle name her family picked out, the blatantly obvious favorite son could not measure up to her expectations? What if I was defective and inadequate?
The more I thought about it, the more I believed it. And I hated her for making it so clear, in my mind, that I wasn’t what she expected from a son.
I ran and hid from my crippling fear of inadequacy, always having a justification for my actions. My mother was the scapegoat I used in my delusion as to why I deserved to escape.
I now realize how wrong I was.
Today, I realize that my reasons for using are not and were not external. They come from resentment and fear that I garnered. Resentments towards a person who I owe a lot to and to someone who I should have showed compassion for. Fear of finishing or starting anything, because I may not like the end result or I may fail,. But I have hope for change.
Nowadays my mother is a true beacon of hope. I have personally witnessed a woman literally ready to die, become vibrant and glowing. The work she did in about half a decade’s time is incredible and inspiring and a testament to how impermanent dark times can be.
Someone I used to hate, has laid the foundation for my own path, and I will forever appreciate her willingness and gravitation towards positivity.
I am my mother’s blood and happy I can say that. Something that has truly helped me is my mother’s apology for how she raised me. Though it was unnecessary for me, I learned the importance in accountability. I believe that nowadays not many are truly accountable for the things they feel guilty about. It is easy to apologize for small mishaps, but instances where genuine guilt and shame come into play are usually swept under the rug. I know that part of my mother’s healing process was owing to her own feelings of guilt about how she raised me. The lessons she has show me through her actions are invaluable, I hope she knows that. I’ve been sober before but in the past… it was different. I white knuckled sobriety for over one and a half years out of anger and feelings of entitlement.
Currently, I want sobriety for different reasons. First of all, I honestly want to live, for the first time in quite a while. But secondly, and almost equally important, I would like to show my mother that she did not fail as a mom, but rather laid down each back breaking brick for me to follow. I owe her that much.