One Mother’s Story of Addiction

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Today I’m welcoming a friend from Twitter who I contacted for a guest post.

Please welcome @DeborahCAN warmly as she shares her heart with us here.


I Know Why This Caged Bird Hasn’t Sung

My name is Deborah.
I am an Addict.
I am a Mommy.
I am a Survivor.
I am a Writer who has gone silent for too long.

Given the opportunity to share a piece of me had left me silent…. musing over what to say and how to say it. I am seldom silent. Upon introspection I have come to realize this free bird has been far from free. While I am proud of what I have overcome and where I am today, I am still sick. I still fear harming those that I love. To share a piece of my puzzle would be to open the cage door and sing. To share just a few pieces of events that have created me requires a vulnerability that is frightening.

I am an addict in recovery. I know what it is like to live to use and use to live. The last few years of my life have been a roller coaster of emotion and spiritual awakenings that I never knew were possible. The disease of addiction took hold of me at 30 yrs old. I know what it is like to need a drug in order to be a Mommy. I know what true, complete, and total spiritual bankruptcy feels like. I know what it is like to pray for death.

I was the agreeable child. The peacemaker. My co-dependent world revolved around the men and trying to keep a semblance of peace in a land of chaos and discontent. I was taught my physical attributes would be the key to attaining my needs and wants. I have felt the knot in the pit of my stomach for as long as I can remember.

I quickly sought similar validation from a boy and, when facing a new form of abuse, struggled to re-gain control; to fix the new imbalance. I had to learn to be a Mamma at 15 and by learning to be a Mamma I broke the chain of physical violence. I refused to let my daughter know that cycle. Milestones and accomplishments I should have never statistically attained came and went. In time, I found someone who loved me as I was and without violence. I was happy. I strove for perfection. I am not perfect. I soon found the answers in a pill. A pill to help me on my quest for perfection. I continued to numb the hurts of my past. I was addicted.

Mamma, Mommy, Wife, Daughter, Sister, Friend…. all became inconsequential. Just keep the pain away. My pride would not allow me to ask for help. I was to find the way out on my own as I had so many times before. Pride goeth before the fall. So I fell. And I fell. And I fell. I took the hand that reached out. I fell again. The hand reached out again.

I have learned that this addict will use everything and anything to be numb. Drugs, money, food, lack of food, sex, people, chaos: I can no longer be numb. Today I feel. Today I love. Today I forgive. Today I extend my hand to the fallen. Today I am a Mamma and a Mommy and a Wife. I am a Daughter, a Sister, and a Friend.

Today I am a writer and I am singing. My name is Deborah and I am an Addict.

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  1. Martin (Dad) says

    I continue to be proud of you and your accomplishments! I loved what you wrote, and hope others obtain motivation from it. You are a very special human being and a great daughter!


  2. Holly Worley says

    Deborah: this is beautifully written. I am so proud of you. You are a remarkable woman who I love and respect very much. Be good to yourself, your family and your friends this holiday season! And remember there are so many people who love and support you. Xoxoxoxo

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