I was flunking out of high school at this point and trying to find my escape from my
abusive mother. When I did go to school it was getting more difficult to hide the bruises
and welts that my friends saw. I even had one friend try to persuade me to go to the
police station and report the abuse, but I didn’t see the point. One night I was on the
phone with Thomas when my mom got into one of her drunken rages. He could hear her
beating me on the other end of the phone. She ended up pulling the phone cord out of the wall. 15 minutes later he was at my door and told me that I didn’t deserve this and that I was coming to live him for good. My mom wasn’t having any of this but I had enough. When I was almost out the door she grabbed me by the arm and started hitting me, I balled my hand into a fist and with all my might I punched her dead in the face. I left without even looking back, I was 17.
Once I started living with Thomas I dropped out of high school and reality. Cocaine was
an every other day habit along with my other favorite drugs, ecstasy and ketamine. This
was the first time I saw people smoke crack and shot and snort heroin, but luckily I didn’t take it that far. But there wasn’t any drug that was around that I wouldn’t pop into my mouth besides those two drugs. This time in my life was such a blur all I remember was scoring drugs and then having to make countless moves since we were always getting evicted for spending money on drugs rather than rent. I needed to feel anything rather than what I was really feeling deep down inside, which was worthless and unloved. I had limited contact with my mom at this point. She just about embraced my leaving since she had a new boyfriend who was 15 years younger than her and only 11 years older than me. He was 28 at the time, didn’t have a job, smoked a lot of pot and saw my mom as walking ATM machine and my brother and I were just in the way. My brother moved out just before the leech moved in.
In June 1999, when my friends were getting ready to graduate, I thought I had overdosed on a combination of cocaine and ecstasy. All I remember was feeling my heart about to
explode, tunnel vision and that feeling between your losing your mind and dying at the same time. What I was really experiencing was my first panic attack. I don’t remember much of that night, I think my brain blocked a lot of this night out because it was all such a blur. If I didn’t already feel like the worlds biggest loser, this certainly Nominated me for the award. I completely stopped doing drugs after that first panic attack, I was too scared I was going to have what I thought was a heart attack again. I told my mom what had happened to me and she didn’t even come over to my apartment to comfort me or see what was going on, I think she was on vacation with her new boyfriend Jerry at the time. This wasn’t the first time in my life that my mom had put men in front of her children but this guy really had it in for my brother and I and he wanted us out of the picture completely. Unfortunately for him after the drug induced panic attack, I started having severe panic attacks all the time and was afraid to sleep at night because I didn’t even know what was really happening. I didn’t know they were panic attacks and therefore, I thought I would have a heart attack in my sleep. I had to move back in with my mother because once again Thomas and I were evicted. This was a very dark period for me. I was afraid to leave the house. My mother took me to see a shrink and he prescribed me Serzone a drug that I don’t even think they make anymore, maybe because it doesn’t work. On a nightly basis I was reminded by mom what a loser, piece of shit I was and that she wished I would just go away. At the time I didn’t have anywhere to go, so I took the abuse. Jerry would add fuel to the fire by telling my mom that I should leave, that I, (of all people), was a drain on her. Jerry knew my mom was an alcoholic. He saw her abuse me, he saw her go off on her drunken rants but I guess he felt she had a nice house and he didn’t have to work. I didn’t think my life could get any worse but of course I was fucking wrong.
Misguided Mommy 