These memories come flooding back to me, and even though they are happy, they are very painful. Some of you who know me have heard a little bit about my past. Some of you might not know a thing. But I can assure you I am not someone that tells this story to get pity 1. I don't enjoy pitty. 2. Everyone goes through pain in life. And because of that, everyone must find a way to release it. To let it go. That is why I am writing about this, for every few weeks or so, I find myself with this pain.
I think I was about 10 or 11 when everything started to happen. I know this because it was before September 11th, 2001. Things started to change around my house. My father came home much later at night, and my mother wasn't the usual spark of energy that she always was. I was very young, so at the time things didn't really make sense to me. Time just kinda ticked by until everything got a lot worse.
My father lost a very large sum of money thanks to his gambling problem. My mother fell into a deep depression, where she contemplated suicide. I remember her going to the hospital, but I think my sister and father covered it up. They told me she was getting surgery for something. It wasn't until much later in life that I realized this was a reoccurring story and event. Either way, my father developed a pretty dark and destructive addiction to Oxycontin, a form of synthetic heroin. And, hoping it would help numb the pain she was feeling, my mother decided to start taking it as well. That was the beggining of the fall.
By 2006 my father had been in jail and rehab, but was still up to no good. I myself was never really in a good state of mind. For the past 6 years I lived in a world of chaos and confusion. Nothing made sense, and this confusion manifested into your typical misbehavior. I never really went to school, in fact, I am not sure how I ended up graduating. I would hang out with my friends. My sister wasn't home anymore. She went off to college, graduated, and moved away. And my brother was involved with the same thing as my father. So my friends were my family, and to be honest, I owe them my life. For I don't know where I would be without them today. They gave me shelter, food, warmth, and laughter. I am pretty sure those are the basic necessities of life.
The situation at my house at this point was completely awful. I would walk out of my bedroom and see my mother passed out in her bed, sitting in an upright position with a lit cigarette dangling between her fingers. I would have to put it out so she didn't add to the already large amount of burn marks that were stained amongst her quilt. The same went for my father. You'd see him downstairs, in what we used to call his, "dungeon" sleeping while sitting up. Shades of blue and gray flickered onto his face from the television. It was always turned to nick-at-night. He loved the classics.
Whenever I hit my junior year, I broke down, but I had someone very important to me step into my life. My uncle from down the street took me in as his own. He forced me to go to school, and he made sure I didn't have to worry about having warm water, electricity, or the bank coming to evict us from our house. I had a home.
From that point forward there were some personal rocky paths, but I made it out. I don't know where I'd be without everyone who gave me a hand, warmth, and love along the way. Today, my mother is better than ever. She's been clean for over 6 years, has a full-time job, and is living her dream to the fullest. I don't think there are many people who I am more proud of in my life than her. I don't tell her enough though. As for my father, the last 6 months have been pretty rough. He was arrested last January. I'll never forget where I was when I got my first call from him while he was in jail, or the letter I wrote to him.
He made it out in time to see me graduate with my undergarduate degree last May. I couldn't have picked a more perfect ending. But he soon relapsed, multiple times, over the summer. And living at home seeing this happen again was not something I wanted to deal with. Today, he is clean, tomorrow he may not be. It's tough sometimes, there isn't a day that goes by where I don't think about what we missed out on. But I always tell him there are a million memories we could still create together, if he wants too take the chance and stay clean.
What makes it especially tough sometimes is that when I was 19 years old, I found out that he wasn't my biological father. It hit me hard. That this man, who had the biggest heart, took me and raised me like his own. I have his sense of humor, I have the same big heart. I'm just a little bit more handsome.
When I find myself with this pain, I find myself doing something odd. I find myself praying. Personally, I don't subscribe to any specific faith or religion. I have a hard time believing in supernatural events in large part thanks to my education. But I do know the vital importance faith plays in our lives, and I don't know where I'd be without it. Yea, at the end of the day, none of us know what's going on, and heck, maybe we simply pray because we need some sense of certainty and safety. Well, if that is why, then I am totally for it. Faith changed my mother. It made her more strong than ever, and now she is back in my life. And I know it has the power to help a lot of people out there who are in similar situations. Knowing what it feels like, to have a void in your life, and to know that something so simple as faith could have the power to fill it, then I completely support it.
As long as it doesn't promote any stubborn or close minded thoughts on the world that is....
I hope you all had a wonderful Monday.
Best wishes,
Mark
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