Drug Courts & A Failed F*cking System

I wrote a few weeks back that my mom was getting out of jail and going to rehab. I was excited, but I tried hiding it. Part of me knew something was going to fall out. The thing about hope is that even though you can prepare yourself to be let down, you can’t prepare yourself enough to not feel the hurt of failed expectations.

She went to rehab for five days.

Five days.

Five. 

Days.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t heartbroken, but how I feel is much more than just a heartbreak.

I am furious.

 

I am furious at the system. I am furious at our courts. I am furious at the people that turn a blind eye when they know that someone needs their help.

SHE COULD BE A MOTHER. She could have been our mother for YEARS now if someone would have taken even a SECOND to pay attention to what the hell was going on in our situation.

It all started in the early 2000’s. The first time she was arrested for possession and fighting. I would have been around five years old. So you arrest a young mother for fighting on the streets while high on who-knows-what, and you’re not going to do anything to make sure it doesn’t happen again? What about the second time? Third time? Fourth time?

Oh, right. THAT’S when we finally take the kids.

But she should have been provided the rehabilitation and help she so desperately needed WAAAAYYYY before it ever got that bad. It has been eighteen years since this all started and nothing has been done to help her. I am furious because in this country drug addicts can relapse and relapse and relapse and get locked up several times without getting any help! By now, we should all be aware that it is cheaper to rehabilitate addicts so they don’t relapse than it is to lock them up over and over and over again…

When did we stop caring about people? Or rather, why don’t we care more about people? It is unfortunate that many addicts’ stories are just like my mother’s. An endless cycle of drug addiction, arrest, lengthy prison sentence, release, and then it starts all over again. And again. And again.

I lost my mother because our court system is designed to allow addicts to fail. 

She was arrested this last time for possession of meth. She was sent to a rehabilitation facility for FIVE DAYS after a twenty year-long span of drug addiction. Do you want to know why? Because they release those that aren’t seen as a risk of relapsing. 

ARE YOU F*CKING SERIOUS???!

She has been an addict for twenty f*cking years and you’re gonna tell me that after FIVE DAYS in your facility, you think she isn’t going to go right back to the drugs?! WHAT. A. JOKE.

This is what I mean when I say that the system is designed to let people like her fail.

I am heartbroken. Outraged. Furious. Disgusted. Appalled.

If she would have gotten help the first time she was seen as having a problem, I could have a mom in my life right now. But instead I’m sitting here pissed off, writing a blog about how the government helped in making my life a living hell.

Mental Health Awareness Month

I’ve never talked about mental health on my blog before, but I figured it’s a great topic to talk about, and since May is Mental Health Awareness Month, there’s no better time than now!

When I think about words that describe myself, I first think about words like happy, energetic, motivated, determined, etc. But the truth is, there are more times than I’d like to admit where I feel the exact opposite of those. There are days I want to pull the blankets over my head and sleep the day away. There are days where I feel sad, have no energy, no motivation, and no patience.

According to the National Alliance on Mental Illness, 1 in 5 adults in the U.S. (46.6 million people) experience mental illness in a given year. Also, mood disorders, (including major depression, dysthymic disorder and bipolar disorder) are the third most common cause of hospitalization in the U.S. for both youth and adults 18–44 years old.

So if so many people are affected by a mental illness, why do I feel so alone when we realize that I may be suffering, too?

When I look back on my life, my darkest time was definitely throughout my junior high school years. I remember talking to the school counselor a lot during my 6th, 7th, and 8th grade years. It was the time in my life where I most struggled with the absence of my mom. I think it was when I first started to fully understand what had happened to me and began to realize that my life was much different that those of my classmates. I was angry a lot of the time. I grew up in a family of six siblings, and at this time I remember I would get in trouble a lot for hitting on them. I don’t consider myself a hostile person, but at that time I was looking for an outlet of my emotions that didn’t involve talking about or dealing with the severity of them. I resented my mom and the fact that she chose drugs over my sister and I, but my sister was years younger than I was and couldn’t fully understand what had happened. She was only 3 when DCFS took us from our mom. So I was dealing with all of those demons completely alone- even the person that I went through this with couldn’t help me.

It was my eighth grade year when I hit rock bottom. I had a bedroom in our basement, and my bed was one of those bunk beds that had a desk under it instead of a second mattress. I was sitting at that desk listening to some of Eminem’s darkest songs and thinking about how much I hated what I was going through. I got up and searches the medicine cabinet for any and all pills I could find.

I went back to my desk, laid the pills out, and started writing goodbye letters to my loved ones. Before I got through the last letter, I was bawling and starting to realize that this wasn’t something I could go through with. I imagined what my family would be like as they read these letters, and I realized I loved them WAY too much to put them through something like that.

I went to school the next day. During PE hour, I gave my best friend the letter I had wrote her the night before and explained to her what I was feeling. We cried together in the locker room and she took me to go get help from a teacher.

I’ll never forget that moment.

We grew apart in the following years, but I have treasured that moment of love and understanding for all of these years. She was the one that picked me up without judgement and led me to the help I needed. I love her for that to this very day.

Many years ago!!

There is no shame in getting the help you need. I recently read a post on Facebook that said something along the lines of hoping that one day getting help for mental health would be as normal as going to the doctor for an injury, and that getting released from school for mental health would be as normal as leaving for a tummy ache. What a world that would be. Let’s end the stigma against mental illness and help those suffering get the help they need.

The big 5-0

I have finally hit 50 followers! I just wanted to dedicate this to all of you awesome readers that follow my journey, read my story, and leave your comments.

When I started this blog, I had no idea what I’d be getting into. I’ve always had a passion for writing, and I knew exactly what my platform was going to be. Writing has always been a great outlet for me, and it’s something I love to do!

I started to write a book back when I was in high school, but kind of just let it go to the way side. I’ve decided I wanted to get back into creative writing and work on publishing chapters of a new book! I already published a prologue for it, if you are interested in reading it I have left the link at the bottom of this article. I think it will be a fun journey and a great way to challenge myself while also pursuing a long-standing dream of mine.

Anyway, THANK YOU for your follow, your friendship, and your support! 50 followers may not sound like much, but this blog has turned into way more than I ever could have dreamed!

-Xoxoxo, Chrissy-

❤️

Read Prologue here.

You say you love your mom, but I can’t relate

I have always been a mildly jealous person. Not that I am in a rage when I see someone with something I don’t have myself, but I am the type of person to let little things hurt me.

And the one thing that probably makes me the most jealous and hurt is when I see others rave about how much they love that their mom is their best friend.

You say you love your mom, but I can’t relate.

I have had a lot of outreach from my blog’s readers. I often hear how others have really connected to what I write about my mom, so I wanted to write one for them- For those that feel the same hurt that I do. For those that have had their own pain and find it comforting to know that they are not alone. For those that relate to this title before even reading the article… This one is in honor of you. (Thank you for reaching out to me, telling me your own stories, and sending love. I hope that never stops!)

I was 7 years old when I was taken from my mom by DCFS, and I actually do have a lot of great memories of my mom from before then. Maybe I exaggerate how awesome those memories really are, simply because I have yearned for more time with her ever since I could understand what even happened. I remember her tickling me while snuggled up on the couch. I remember how good her pepper gravy tasted. I remember how beautiful she was as I looked down on her from the top bunk of our bunkbed.

There were times I would lay with my face in my pillow crying, just so my sisters wouldn’t hear me. I never googled my name because the one time I did I was terrified to see a nasty methed-out mugshot of my mom. I was mailing letters to my mom while she was in prison, whereas some of my friends didn’t even know how to address a letter or buy a stamp. I changed the TV channel every time I saw a CrimeStoppers commercial come on, just in case her picture would pop up under the WANTED list. These are things that I’m sure the average kid doesn’t have to deal with, but they shaped me into the girl that grew up angry and jealous of everyone else that brags on how awesome their mom was. You may love your mom, but my mom has hurt me more than any person on this earth. I do not feel sorry for how blunt I can be about the pain that she has caused. I do not feel like I have to sugarcoat the emotional and mental hurt that she has brought to my life. So when you say you love your mom, I can’t relate.  

You may think, “… But she’s your family, you should love your family no matter what!” Here’s what I have to say to that: Would someone that truly loved you do that to you? No, seriously. Yeah, I get that family is important. My family is truly one of my highest priorities, but someone that can cause you that much heartache is not family. She could look me dead in my eye, tell me she was done with the drugs, then walk down the street to a buddy’s house for a hit after I drove away. So when you say you love your mom, I can’t relate.

I remember one of my high school best friends would bring a perfectly folded and packed suitcase with her to every basketball tournament. To this day, I still remember standing there watching as she opened it up and took the beautifully arranged items out. Something as simple as that made me wish that I had my mom do that for me. There are so many small things moms do that get overlooked, but there are people like me that notice every single one of them. To those of you that have that amazing relationship with your mom, I hope this post makes you realize your love for her even more. I hope this gives you the urge to go hug her and thank her for nurturing and loving you the way a real mother should. You are living a life so many others can only dream of. Never waste a moment to tell her how much she means to you!

 

 

Dear Mom,

Dear Mom,

Sometimes I wonder where you are

You hurt me bad and it’s left a scar

 

I don’t think you care and that’s okay

If there is a will, there is a way

 

I lock my heart in hopes of relief

But there is no escape for all this grief

 

I hate who you are and what you’ve done

This weight I bear feels like a ton

 

So many times that you have missed

I don’t know why I still get pissed

 

You weren’t there then and you’re not here now

You’ve broken every single vow

 

I remember the nights of fallen tears

For wanting all those broken years

 

I wish I could say it was long ago

I’m working on me and trying to grow

 

But I can’t shake this anger deep inside

“I love you, Chrissy Marie,” you lied

 

I should be big enough to move on

But my patience has been overdrawn

 

Someday I will tell her what you did

But I’ll be careful because she’s my kid

 

I won’t do to her what you did to me

Forever my baby she will be

 

I’ll hold her and raise her and never let go

And my love for her she’ll always know

Let Yourself Love

Love is weird.

Whether we want to believe it or not, love can make us give up bits and pieces of who we are and give them to the person whom we love.

Sometimes that’s a good thing, and sometimes it’s not.

You see, I’m the type of person to completely give myself away to the person that has captured my heart. A guaranteed ten times out of ten, I will put my lover’s needs, interests, and wants ahead of my own. That may be my biggest character flaw. I am so willing to go above and beyond for someone as an attempt to show them that I care. However, not everyone gives themselves away so freely. Others are much more rough, like rocks hanging onto a cliff as the wind blows against them. The wind can blow and blow, and some of those rocks will never release themselves to the ground below.

Sometimes the “ground” is scary. We don’t know what is going to happen once we let ourselves go. How far is the drop? How bad will it hurt?

I’ve always been quick to let myself fall. I see love as something you make; something you work at rather than coast through. When you coast, sometimes you forget the things that are really important and disregard how your actions are affecting those around you. I don’t believe love stays once you’re in it. I think it takes continuous reflection and change.  I don’t think once you fall in love that you will always be in love, unless you are willing to give bits and pieces of yourself away.

I know it sounds scary, but I see it differently.

Of course, trusting someone with the depths of your heart is frightening.

However, I have had the love that has shown me that it is not always that way.

I have had the love that makes me yearn for morning light so that he will awaken and we can start a new adventure. I have had the love where he knows the instant something is going to break my heart. I have had the love that not only fulfills me, but also betters me. I have had the love that makes complete silence not so lonely.

None of that amazing, lightning-fueled love would be possible without giving parts of myself away.

I’m not saying giving yourself away is all roses and butterflies, either.

I have had the love that makes me want to bury my face into a pillow and scream for hours straight. I have had the love that makes me lose all motivation to do anything with anyone. I have also had the love that leaves a horrible pain in my chest; so bad I can barely breathe.

None of that hurt makes me believe it all wasn’t worth it.

Yes, it’s hard to love. It’s hard to trust. It’s hard to rely on the hope that love will never end.

Sometimes love does end…

But if you love hard enough, sometimes it’s all worth it. 

I think back on some of my happiest days. I see tents and bonfires and football games and roadtrips and lakes and sunsets. The list goes on and on…

I have had some incredible memories due to the fact that I jumped on the horse and let myself love HARD. I’m not saying that everyone deserves a chance at your heart. All I’m saying is that you deserve, YOU DESERVE, a chance to find crazy, beautiful love. Don’t let the idea of giving yourself to the wrong person take that chance away from you.

You deserve love where your partner completes you. I can think of so many instances where he was just better than me. I could be doing something as simple as cleaning out the fridge. He would come in and ask to do it instead, leaving me to wonder what I could have possibly been doing wrong while rearranging the fridge. And sure enough, there he was doing it just… better. For everything I couldn’t do, he was just better. And that completed me!

It’s strange that I think of rearranging a fridge as a monument of great love, but I do. Because even simple things like that bring a smile to my face as I reflect on the incredible love that I have experienced. I hope you are willing to give yourself away to someone that is better at rearranging the fridge than you are. Because you deserve the love that makes you appreciate a simple life 😊

Drowning

I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this.

I go through the motions like I’m your slave.

So much is on my shoulders and

I think I’m drowning.

I can’t keep you happy and you don’t care if I am.

A misplaced shirt becomes an argument.

A rise in my voice becomes a battle.

A longing kiss becomes a plead.

I’m frustrated-

But I feel like it’s more.

Still, I say nothing.

Every responsibility that comes with a child has been placed on me

Every bill.

Every chore.

Every appointment.

I’m so tired, but I keep going for the sake of my beautiful girl.

I’m beginning to realize I can do this on my own.

I just hope you wake up before I have to choose to.

Open Your Eyes

There is so much beauty in the world

You just have to open your eyes to see it

Get off the phone

Go outside

Look around

Admire the way the leaves move in the wind

Watch the squirrels chase one another

Smell the cool, brisk air

Admire Mother Nature in all her glory

There is so much more to life

Than refreshing online feeds

Let’s converse deeply

Let’s seek understanding

Let’s love harder

Let’s open our eyes

She Was Supposed to be Their Grandma…

When I was younger, I imagined my life much differently. And I’m not saying my life is bad now, it’s just… harder. 

No matter how many times adults tell you to appreciate being young and that “adulting” is hard, you’re still not quite ready for the reality of life once you’re out on your own.

There’s one thing that I specifically remember thinking about when I was younger. My future family. Young girls love playing house with make-believe husbands and children, and most toddlers can be seen holding a baby doll around the house. I was no different. I imagined having a family surrounding me and my kids.

But now that I am actually starting a family, things are just a bit different than I imagined…

First things first, as a child you never really know how expensive it is for your parents to take care of you. I’m a lot more poor than I thought I would be when the time to start a family came. Now here I am wondering how the hell anyone can afford children!!

Second, I feel a lot more alone than I thought I would.

Growing up I always dreamed about the day I could surprise my parents with the news of them becoming grandparents. Becoming a grandparent is exciting to parents!

But with the history of my mom and I’s relationship, the story is a little different. I told her and she was excited… cool. But she failed to mention that she got caught with meth again and is now facing 20 years. There goes any hopes of her meeting or getting to know my children. I thought the news of her future grandchildren would be enough to keep her motivated to stay off the drugs and out of the streets.

I guess I thought wrong.

There’s been no one out there that’s given her more chances or believed she would change than me. Now my time has been wasted and my dreams crushed.

In the light of so much excitement, there is so much heartbreak.

She was supposed to be their Grandma…

 

 

 

Thoughts of a Lost Girl

My, oh my. I have so much running through my head every single day. That’s not so different than everyone in the world, I’m sure. We all have wandering minds, it’s human nature. What’s different about me is that I can’t get it to stop. I lay in bed every night worrying about so many things that I just end up staring into the dark abyss for hours before finally drifting into unconsciousness.

I wish it would stop. I’m tired of feeling like I have no confidence in who I am as a person, what I look like on the outside, and what others perceive me as.

To be honest, I don’t tell anyone about what I’m feeling. I spend a good majority of everyday alone, and I don’t know if that is a part of the problem or something that makes me feel better about my insecurities. I have a hard time being alone. I like the quiet atmosphere, but most times I just end up overthinking about all that’s going on.

My relationship is in a rough patch. He wants to move out of our home to live by himself. Where will I go? What does this mean?

I graduate from community college in May, and I still haven’t decided what degree path I want to pursue. Do I continue school or find work until I figure it out?

This is only a brief description of what I’m going through. I want to say more, but I cannot figure out the words to write. I’m completely and utterly lost in my own life right now.

I hope all of this cools down and I can figure things out.

xoxo *fingers crossed*

-Chrissy