Dealing with my Mom's Addiction Part 2

     The second memory that comes to my mind when I think about my mom’s addiction and how it affected my life, is when she went to rehab. I have several memories about this, but the first one I am going to write about is the first one that made me feel shame. My mom made the decision to go to rehab. She was going to be gone for three weeks at a center called Charter in North Salt Lake. I spent every waking moment with my mom, so I was a little afraid of being without her, but I wanted her to stop using drugs so much that I was actually thrilled. 

    I was in fourth grade. My parents weren’t the type that went to parent teacher conferences, or volunteered at the school, so my teacher was oblivious to what was going on. It must have been a Monday, because the teacher asked if anyone had any good news or had something to share about the weekend. I raised my hand high above my head and hoped she would call on me. She did! I was so excited to tell this adult, who was so much a part of my life my good news. I excitedly said, “My mom went to rehab this weekend! She is going to stop using drugs!” I was bursting with excitement, and hope. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, my teachers face dropped. She was mortified. I knew immediately that I had made a mistake. She tried to make light, tried to recover, but it was too late. I knew that my pride shouldn’t have been pride, that it should have been shame. But how could it be? I was maybe 9 or 10 years old, and I just wanted my mom back. I was filled with optimism, anticipation and faith! I knew she was going to do this and it would never be a problem again. I was very wrong.

Now as an adult, looking back on this, I can see what a struggle it would have been for my dad. He would have had to use his vacation time to stay home and care for me during this stint. He still had hope. He drove me to school every day and bought me a tape of The Bodyguard soundtrack. We sang Whitney Houston and he drank coffee and I got candy. I loved spending time with him. Those weeks that my mom was gone, really made us depend on one another. We had always been close, I knew he worshipped me. But now we were partners with a common vice. We went through it together because we were the only ones in the family home now. Everyone else had moved out. We wrote letters to Kade, babysat Shanea’s kids, and called Debbie every week. But we were the ones dealing with the day to day of addiction.