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Holly Miller

Roxanna Dewey

Eng 101

17 September 2023

Essay One : Memoir

“Addiction is a family disease. When an addict gets sick, it’s not just the addict who gets

sick. The entire family is affected in a profound way.”-Thomas F. Harrison & Hilary S. Connery.

This quote perfectly explains how it feels to live with a family that is deteriorating around you. I

do not wish to be pitied nor for people to offer condolences; I have processed and come to terms

with all that has happened and am now ready to share my tale. This will demonstrate a family

that was shattered and gently repaired in a beautiful manner like that of Kintsugi. I was never

comfortable expressing my thoughts and emotions; however, after enduring my mother’s

addiction, we journeyed to become our better selves in mind, body, and life.

A locked door, the murmurs of two adults bickering floating up the stairs threatening to

breach my walls. Often this was my environment as I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, begging

for sleep to take me. As I grew older it was easier to tell that some things my parents did would

not be considered normal for the other kids I knew. My mother and step-father were both

alcoholics. During my high school years I began to understand just how severe it had become. As

each day passed, my patience would thin as well as my mental health. It was increasingly

difficult to deal with two adults who would act like children during a time when I needed proper

support.

An average day for me would include unlocking the front door after a long day of school

and begging that no parents were home. If it was one of the lucky days, I would take the time to
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cook and lounge around outside my room until my parents arrived home. However, as time

continued on, my parents would often both stay home all day resulting in me slumping straight

into my room and remaining there for the entire night. This was a raw and difficult time where I

struggled with worsening depression and bulimia; with no adult to properly look out for me

because they could not even look after themselves.

You may ask, why did I never confide in my father? The truth was I did not feel

confident enough to express my emotions and concerns. I often would downplay my feelings,

believing I was dramatic and forbidden to convey them. Times where I attempted to explain that

I felt depressed, with no underlying cause and wanted help understanding my emotions, I was

smacked in the face with comments such as, “I’d kill to be in your shoes,” and “What do you

have to be sad about?” This always being the response I received, I learned to bottle up my

emotions and was left stewing in my room most nights; struggling not to explode at the next

person who rubbed me wrong. I felt like a terrible genie, rub my lantern and you would face the

wrath of my buried rage and sadness, even if you had no part in its creation.

Sick of living like this, I knew I needed to stand up and make a change. Sitting in my seat

I stared down at my phone, the screen displaying a text conversation between my mother and I.

“Can I stay at Dad’s tonight?” I sent, fingers strumming the desk while I waited for a reply.

“No, you have constantly been going to your father’s on my days.” She fired back, like a bullet

shattering my hopes for the night.

My cheeks ignited, body temperature rising as I stared at my screen. ”How could she say

that? Why does she care where I am if I am always in my room?” These thoughts swarmed my

brain as I finished my day of classes. Once home I stood across the room from my mother, the

air thick with tension waiting for someone to make the first move.
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“You’re always trying to go stay with your father on my days, do you just want to move in with

him?” My mother spat out like venom. I knew she did not seriously intend that to be a question,

but I saw my opportunity and ran.

“Actually, yes I do. I can’t handle you destroying yourself and I am scared watching you

deteriorate in front of my eyes! I want you to get better and this is too painful for me to endure.”

She merely stared at me, rage and pain swimming behind her eyes as she told me to go. I

sat in my room as tears streamed down my cheeks, vision blurring while I called my father. A

few hours passed and I carefully padded down the stairs; my mother remained in the same spot

on the couch staring at the television. As I approached her she refused to look at me, but I told

her that I loved her and kissed her before I left the house; which I would not return to for quite

some time.

Months had passed leaving my mother stewing with those final thoughts I shared. She

reached out to me promising she would make efforts to become sober. I trusted her and provided

my support. As time went on I was summoned to my mother’s house to have a meeting with my

family. Sitting on the couch I was confused as everyone was here except for my mother. My

step-father stood front and center in the room as he explained that my mother was in the hospital

and was likely to die, or in the best-case scenario, have to live full time in hospice. This shattered

me, and my mind instantly was swarmed with panicked thoughts. How could I continue life

without my mother? How is this going to affect my two younger siblings? My mom will never

see me get married or graduate highschool, she won't witness me grow into the brilliant young

woman she always dreamed I'd become. Following the heart-wrenching news I would spend the

days with my mother in the hospital, and the nights sobbing into my pillow until it was too

exhausting to stay awake.

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Against all odds, my mom was able to recover to a point that allowed her to return home

and begin true recovery. This was an incredibly blessed time as I had the opportunity to

reconnect with my mom as an entirely new person. She was no longer an alcohol-consumed

woman but instead my mom, the one who originally raised and loved me. I stayed by her side

through the difficult and exhilarating times as we traversed the road of recovery. As time passed

and our relationship strengthened once more, I was provided an official apology. On two

separate occasions my mom and step-dad both apologized to me, detailing that they understood

how they treated me and how it affected me. That they understood my actions and emotions

given our situation and that they were truly sorry for not being supportive when I needed them.

This was liberating for me, it felt as though a massive boulder was lifted off my shoulders and I

could stand up straight once more. I struggled constantly with validating my own experiences

and emotions, and this apology aided me in overcoming my self doubts.

In the present day a text notification blips on the screen of my phone.

“Are you still coming to dinner tonight? -Mom” it reads.

”Of course!” I type into the box as I fumble for my keys, striding out the front door.

This is now a weekly occurrence, where I accompany my mom and family for dinner at

least once a week. I adore the relationship we developed where we see eachother every week,

embracing the new found time we have. Now in a healthier state, both mind and body, my mom

assisted me with registering at a new doctors office. From here my own mental health journey

began. Now that my mom was in a state that allowed her to provide the support of a loving

parent, I was able to take the difficult steps forward to get prescription medication to handle my

depression. Together we would be transparent about our doctor appointments and felt

comfortable discussing thoughts and emotions with each other. I struggled for so long being able
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to share my own feelings as I never felt heard when I did speak, however, now I feel empowered

and supported as I ceased shoving my emotions deep down.

This was a painful, yet valuable journey as I reconnected with my family and experienced

a sense of self discovery. I was taught that my feelings are valid and to stop doubting my

emotions and downplaying my experiences. My emotions are important and I owe it to myself to

be my personal best. A day for me now involved engaging with family, friends, my hobbies and

starting school! After working through my mom’s addictions, we both developed ourselves in

terms of body, mental health, and relationships.