Speak Up

When I was little my mother once told me meth was the reason of my existence. That she never would have moved to Idaho if it wasn't for her getting caught with meth, and getting kicked out of Nevada. Today, I learned that when she told me these things, she was using, and that she had been using off and on my whole life. I am 17 years old now, and I finally understand why parts of my life were so different than others - so screwed up. The most vivid memory I recall, is when my mom was diagnosed with cervical cancer, and the doctors told her that she needed to go and have her uterus taken out right away. She waited months until she finally had the hysterectomy, and when she did, the surgery was terrible. I remember walking into her room to visit her and she was ripping out her IV and threatening to kill the nurses. She kept asking for more morphine and they wouldn't give it to her so she went ballistic. Honestly, before I found out the truth, this whole time I just thought that the hysterectomy caused her to be addicted to medications and was mentally ill. But that wasn't the case, she was using meth this whole time and has been lying to me about her drug use. I remember a couple months after the hysterectomy, my mom started staying up really late. One night I woke around 3 am and she was sticking her head out the kitchen window screaming "Who's out there?" She would tell me every day that she saw someone outside the house the night before and told me that they were stealing our things. If I said anything against her accusations her temper would start to boil. I was afraid of her by then..actually terrified. My friend's family offered for me to move into their home for the next year in high school - my sophomore year, and I agreed to it. Yet they had no clue how bad things were at home with my mom, and after over 2 years of living with them, they still don't know, at least I don't think. My mom's behavior has been the same since I first moved in with the other family, and is living in an extremely unstable home. Her house looks like a hurricane tore it apart. She is living there and it has no heating, no electricity, and no plumbing. She uses a bucket as her toilet, and I honestly couldn't tell you where she showers. It smells as if a dead body is living under the house. I have not talked to her in weeks. I feel like a horrible daughter because I never tried to stop her as any of this was going on. I didn't know how to handle it or face such demented behavior. When I found I though, I confronted her about it. She said she didn't want help and preferred that I didn't bring it up. Every single day I fear that its going to be too late to save her. There was a time that I remember her as a semi-normal parent and things were going well, and every day I realize more and more how much I miss the woman I once knew as my mom. But now I don't even know who this woman is, or how to get her back.