Difficult Decisions

Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same

     As I reflect on the events that led me to where I am now, my heart grows heavy. I must say, I wasn't prepared for the decisions that were laid out before me. With a father long gone, and a mother whose life was consumed by drugs, I needed to decide, would I be the one to stop the vicious cycle that my mother had brought on herself? It would be easy enough, she never kept tabs on me, she wouldn't see it coming, not until it was too late.

     Living with my mother in our small town in East Tennessee was great for a short time. The time between the divorce and when she found her new fascination, when it was just her and I against the world. My ten-year-old self didn't understand that dad and the two siblings that chose to leave with him were never coming back. But even with the divorce and departure of the family my mom tried so hard to keep together, she was a great mom. She always tried her hardest to put me first and make sure that I was well taken care of. And then, soon enough, the two of us turned into three. A beautiful little boy, Conner, was welcomed into the world shortly after my 13th birthday. He was the light of her life, and mine. I could not contain the pure joy that I felt when I held my little brother for the first time. A whole new world opened up for me, and I felt this immense responsibility to protect him, and take care of  him. 

     Then, our roof fell apart, literally, and we moved in with one of our neighbors. things just progressively got worse from that point on.  My mother  started going out more and she didn't want to be around us anymore. Soon after Conner's first birthday, she met a guy that quickly became her boyfriend. Then she started coming home really late, to not coming home at all. She stayed away so much that we all just eventually moved in with him, without an actual invite to move in. After we had been living there for a while, I started to notice that they both acted really weird. My mom started losing a lot of weight, neither of them really ate a lot during meal times, and whenever I would get  up in the middle of the night, for whatever reason, they would always be awake. I began to catch on to these strange actions and quickly realized that they were both using drugs. 

     I'm 17 now, and things continually got worse until we hit rock bottom. My brother was taken to live with my Aunt Gretchen in April, but there was only enough room for one, so I was left behind. Being away from him was not ideal,  but it put my mind at ease knowing that he was being taken care of. Now that he was out of the picture, I had a lot of time on my hands to contemplate on how I was going to get myself out of this situation. I don't want to just take off, leaving my mom to her own devices, that would surely kill her eventually. I want to get her the help that she needs before I leave.

     Today is the day, May 21st. I am going to turn my mother in today. She and her boyfriend are holed up in their bedroom shaking from the pains of withdrawal. With no money to buy anything, they will be home all day. I walk from my bedroom and into the tiny bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror and take in my presence. My hair is a mess atop my head from the lack of being able to shower, and the bags under my eyes indicate that I haven't slept well in a few days. The reflection staring back at me is definitely not something that I was proud of. 

     I stand there and think about how royally screwed this whole situation is. I never thought that I would be having my own mother arrested. But situations such as this one, deserve, if not require a drastic decision. And, although it was a difficult one for me to make, I know deep in my heart, that this is what is right for my mother. This will help straighten her out, I hope. 

     I sigh as I wipe away the tears that have pooled underneath my eyes.

"Deep breaths Kathy, just take deep breaths," I whisper to myself. My hands begin to shake from the anxiety that I feel, and I try to hold back the cry that is crawling up my throat. I know that if my  mom ever finds out that I did this to her, she will never speak to me again. But in the end I am willing to take that risk,  I will do whatever it takes for her to get the help that she needs.