[Hi all - Lara here. Some of you may remember that about a month ago, I offered my space for rent. One of you out there reading needed a safe space to vent, and I am happy to help. Please offer your support to this reader, just as you would to me. Thanks all.]
I hate you.
You know who you are.
You are supposed to love me, my kids, more than anything. And sometimes you do.
But only if you know where your next drug is coming from. The supply is handy, you can pop it or snort it at any time.
Tonight, I had to lock my kids in the living room, while I picked the door to your bathroom push your body away from the door, to lift you up off the floor and drag you to bed. I had to wash the powder residue from the sink. I had to make excuses to my three and five year olds, "Grammy isn't feeling well" I said, knowing one day, if not already, they'd know you do this to yourself.
I hate you.
I hate that for as long as I can remember I've been unable to depend on you.
I hate that sometimes you're so much fun to be around I even forget how awful it can be.
I hate that I've had to leave my kids in the car while I ran in to see if you were decent.
I hate that I've left them with you, when you were "fine" to come to pick them up a few hours later and you'd be messed up.with my babies in your care.
I hate that I have to keep telling them that they can't stay at Grammy's anymore, that I take the heat for being mean, when all I'm trying to do is keep you from accidentally killing them.
I hate that when you've taken too much, you deny it, even though you sit across from us at dinner, your eyes closed, your face falling in your plate.
I hate that my kids seem to think it's so normal for you to act this way.
I hate you.
I hate that when I told you my closest friend had died, you cried, and I couldn't.
I hate that you use me as an excuse to use drugs.if I get sick you need them, if I get depressed you need them, if I get angry and stop speaking to you, you use.
I hate all your promises, the ones you never keep.
I hate that when I keep your prescription meds so you wont over use them, you come up with 101 excuses for needing extra.
I hate that our every conversation revolves around what drugs you need and how soon I'll be over to give them to you.
I hate that I'm all you got, and you're all I got.
I hate that I have to worry about you, you're my mother, why do I have to mother you too?
I love you , and you're killing me, one pill at a time.