I Don’t Look Like A Meth Addict
I am the mother of an amazing eight-year-old girl. I am a fabulous dressing, master’s degree holding, funny divorcée.
I don’t look like a meth addict.
I got sober three years before my daughter was born, and remained that way for over ten years. My daughter had never seen me drink, she had never seen me use, and she had never had the chaos of my addiction thrust upon her.
Until a year ago when I relapsed on meth during my divorce.
I told myself I needed it because I have ADD. I told no one and used alone, which made it even easier for me to lie to myself and pretend like it wasn’t happening. Until I met an amazing man who ultimately discovered my disgusting secret, and everything exploded.
I smoke meth. I get high at home and at work. I get high before I go to the grocery store, the mall, the pool and the beach. I’m high in the Catholic school parking lot. My daughter is heartbroken, and I am devastated – at least I think I am. I know I should be; and I definitely will be, as soon as the numbness this drug creates wears off again.
I’m supposed to check in to detox in an hour, and I’ve been chasing my tail all night trying to get ready. I’ve accomplished nothing. My house is disgusting. I haven’t paid rent, and I’m pretty sure I smell like shit. The night before I went to a mediation meeting, and basically lost my daughter until the end of the school year; at which point we will discuss my reintegration into her life…
…if I’ve stayed sober.
This feels like the twilight zone. I can’t believe this is my life.
But then again, it almost seems more familiar than pretending to fit in as a soccer mom. I never understood who I was in the mom world. I couldn’t reconcile being in recovery and attending meetings with being the mother of a child in a private Catholic school. I used to attend a meeting that was held at her school. One night I had a meeting for a fundraiser at her school on the same night that the meeting was held. I stood in the parking lot with all of the other moms while they looked over at my fellow addicts, my friends, who, smoking in a little huddle and said things like,
“Oh my God… look at those people.”
“Well you know, they allow those groups, like those alcoholics and stuff to meet here at night.”
I didn’t defend my friends, and I never went to another meeting again. And that brought me to where I am now—in Hell.
I’m going back to sobriety today. I have hope because I stayed sober before, when my actions didn’t affect very many people, and I really had nothing to lose.
Now I have a daughter who I am inflicting the same kind of pain on that my alcoholic mother did me. That is unacceptable to me.
While I have hope, I’m also terrified. I have seen so many beautiful, willing, well-intentioned mothers and fathers do the one thing they swore they would never do. They abandoned their children because they couldn’t stop using. All I can do is pray and surrender and hope that I can get truly honest with myself this time.
That’s all I can do…
This post was submitted Anonymously and was originally printed in February 2015.
- You Are Not Alone
- Embracing the Language of My Recovery
- I Don’t Like Being A Mom and That’s OK
- When Rage Hits Home
- Stop the Judgement: Laughter Doesn’t Make it Funny
A Sober Mommies Contributor is most often a non-professional – in and out of recovery – with reality-based experience to share about motherhood & active addiction, the multiple pathways to recovery, or a family member’s perspective.