Speak Up

Growing up it was always my brother, my mom, and myself. Our dad and mom had split up when i was 3. Sometimes my mom would lock herself in her room when she had "friends" over. I remember standing outside that door as a child wanting to spend time with my mom. All she would do was yell and tell me they were 'talking". There where times when she would fly off the handle over the littlest things. and most of the time she would stay up all night cleaning, then in the morning when it was time for school she was dead to the world. If my brother or I would even attempt to wake her up she'd yell and scream at us. So we learned quick, when mom was asleep don't wake her up. She didn't have a job, we were on welfare, but I remember moving a lot. Or staying with family, specifically my grandparents or aunt. There where times when mom was fun and there where times when mom was bad, As I got older things seemed to get worse, I'm not sure if it was always bad and as I matured I realized how bad it really was.
There are SO many stories I could tell, how I missed so much school because mom was dead to the world. How I remember being so hungry sometimes and there was nothing to eat. Being homeless, being scared of my mom. worrying all the time something bad was going to happen. Being left alone with my moms friends for days on end, not knowing if she was ever coming home. A child shouldn't have those types of worries. Then i snapped my sophomore year of high-school. We had no electricity in our house, and hardly any food. I woke up one night to my mom screaming call 911, she was fighting with her boyfriend. He wanted to know where "it" was. Now by that time I knew what "it" was, I wasn't a dumb kid and i put two and two together. That night was the last straw, here my mom was fighting with a man over drugs, because he would use it all with out her. Soon enough after her boyfriend had left in a rage, she came into the room my brother and i shared (mind you I was 16 and he was 13). But the room had a loft, which is were my brother slept. my mom climbed up the ladder leading to where my brother slept, lifted up the edge of the carpet, and pulled out a clear bag. I pretended to be asleep, I was so angry with her. I felt that she had put my brother in danger. My moms boyfriend was a very violent man. I had had enough I was done. before i knew it with in a weeks time my brother and i were living with our Aunt. Time went by, my mom went to a place to get better. But with in a few years she was sick, she had a form of cancer, it was in her bronchial tubes. And in 2006, i was 19 she passed away from it. To this day I blame Meth for making her sick. I would tell myself at least she died clean. But if she had gotten clean a long time ago she would still be around. While I was living with my aunt, I lived in an illusion that my mom would get better, she had too. we were her kids and she'd pick us over that awful drug. That when she got better I could go live with her again. I loved my mom there is no doubt about that. Even though she did some really messed up stuff, she was my mom, she was the reason i was in this world. The thing about meth is, it effects everyone. It is a dirty disgusting drug, that takes hold of your life and make you someone else. Its not your friend and it wont make you feel better, If your thinking about trying it, DON'T. If your thinking whatever it wont hurt me, it does!! and it hurts people in your life.