Rough Night...

Writing can be so therapeutic. You get out all the things that you’ve got swirling around in your mind. All the things that have built up inside that you feel you cannot tell anyone. Right now I feel so alone and lost. Things really feel as if they’re at the lowest point again. I’ve had numerous lows in life, but right now is definitely one of the lowest. My life is so complicated. I’m seriously homeless, I have no money, and then there’s my mother…

Before she made it complicated enough with her drug addiction, but recently it got even more complicated when she had her heart attack/stroke. It hurts and pisses me off so much that she doesn’t care enough about herself or my sisters and me enough to stop the drugs. I can remember how she would sometimes fly off the hinges and tell us “You 3 lil bitches are the reason I get high…” The reason she drank, the reason she partied and stayed away for days and weeks at a time. But through it all I still love her unconditionally, with all her short comings and faults.

When she got sick, I remember sitting in the hospital with her for 8 days straight. I took two baths in that time span. I honestly never left her side, I can remember her waking up in that hospital bed and her looking at me and saying “who’s that” or “who are you” because she didn’t recognize her own daughter. That was one of the hardest and scary things that I have been through. A mother, unable to recognize her own children. I took on the role of adult (not that I hadn’t already, I practically raised my sisters), I made my sisters go to school while I sat there with her. Those eight days were the most time my mother and I had spent together since I can remember, pretty sad huh?

I’ve always found myself trying to stay away. Just so I wouldn’t have to think about or deal with my home life. Before my mom would accuse me of taking on so many activities just to avoid being home. Before I wouldn’t admit that. But now I do. I would get involved with anything at school that would keep me out. I mainly did sports. Between practice and games, all I would have time to do once I got home was close myself into my room and do my homework, get a bite to eat, and go to bed. No time to talk to my mother who was probably drunk, high, or trying to get to that point. No time to worry about my arguing sisters, no time sit idle in my messy house.

I always put on this façade for people around me. They never got past it either. They didn’t know about the life that I was leading. They all jus thought I was this “responsible, mature, smart, nice, happy-go-lucky, young lady.” My friends didn’t know about my life either. I had this grand lie going because I was ashamed. I was embarrassed. I never let people stay the night at my house, or even come inside. People never knew about the nights my sisters and I went hungry, the number of days that my mom had been gone. They couldn’t see the things that I had to do for money. I don’t even have the strength to talk about that…too many bad memories for one night. I know that growing up the way that I have has made me into the strong independent individual that I am today. I cannot allow myself to fail, I’m afraid I’ll end up like my parents. I will succeed; I refuse to fail, to settle, become another statistic. Another black chick wit funnily named babies that she can’t take care of, living hand to mouth, barely surviving on welfare. I WILL THRIVE, believe that…until next time holla atcha girl, Im tired and its going to be a long night…too many things to think about this ain’t even the half of my life…. I’m so fucking depressed right now I jus need to try to go to sleep before I do something crazy.