7 years

I grew up at the poverty level of standards put upon us. We never get to choose our upbringing, as sadly if I could've chosen mine. It wouldn't have been this way. I had split parents, never married just a casual hookup. It turned into an 18-year commitment to motherhood. But she chooses otherwise. The story I'm going to share is based on a moment in my life. A moment, I still haven't recovered from.

At the age of 7 years old, I had the maturity of an adult. I never had the childhood dream of both parents, a loving home. I worried about if I'd get to eat that day and if I'd has clothes to wear. It wasn't a place for a child to live in. My mother was/is an alcoholic, and drug addict. She never cared about anybody but herself. Not even her own kids.

One specific evening in march, my brother and I were trying to find something that we could eat for dinner. My mother was high out of her mind, on god knows what, so she told us she'd take a quick nap while we made dinner. All we had was a pack of Mr. Noodles. 20 minutes go by and I hear a big thump. It was my mother. I ran to her, but she was unconscious on the living room floor. I kept saying "mom, stop messing around", "We made dinner, get up" She didn't respond. I then started to cry, she started making strange noises. And as a 7-year-old, I thought she was trying to talk to me. I played along and sat by her side, about 10 minutes later my 12-year-old brother bolts into the room. He understood that she was not in a good state, so we called 911.

After a short period of wait, the ambulance and paramedics arrived at the scene. I watched terrified as they put my mother's body on a board and started to shock her heart. Again, and again, and again. The paramedic tried pulling me away from her, but I kept screaming and kicking him. I didn't understand what they were doing to her, no child would. At that point I was so in shock, on the ride to the hospital I blacked out. I sat in the waiting room for hours and hours, finally, the paramedic came to us and said if we didn't call 911 the minute we did, they wouldn't have been able to revive my mother's body. The cause of her death before they revived her was a committed overdose. That was the first of many I've experienced.

She blamed me for her wanting to commit suicide. That I was the reason why. It haunts me to this day, 12 years later. I always wonder who I'd really be if I never had to experience all the tragedy. I know it shaped me into the strong woman I am today, but I wish I could've saved 7-year-old me. Since that day, she lost custody of my brother and me. And never fought for us. Addiction was more important.

The moral of this event is, that you can't change who raises you. Or what type of parent you end up with. But you can certainly change who you become. I will never allow her to destroy more than she has already. The damage is done, and now I'm ready to heal and share my experiences. I hope I was able to explain it well enough, it's not easy talking about it.

Thank you for your time and patience,

Madison Caron xx