FCYU-Feature Story

Making It on My Own
I lost my mom to drugs

By D.B.

My mom is a drug addict. Growing up in Watts my life was hell, because while she did drugs I had to help her get through her days.

Starting when I was 8, I got my mom food, laid her clothes out on the bed, helped her brush her teeth and ran her bath water. I also did all the duties that a mother is supposed to do, like feeding my little sister and two brothers, making them take a bath and getting them to school. It’s been hard not having a mother who takes care of me and is there for me, but I learned to make it on my own.

Growing up, I went to elementary school only about once every three weeks because I had to take care of my siblings. My friends would ask me, “Why don’t you go to school?” and I’d say, “I don’t have time.” I would walk away before they could ask why. Later I would talk to my friends through a window at home and they would tell me what went on in school.

Missing Out on Childhood

The little girl inside me had it hard. I didn’t go outside to ride my bike, skate or talk to my friends. I knew that if I went outside at 5 p.m., I would have to come back inside at 6 to cook dinner. I wished I could play with the other kids on my block. They looked like they were having fun.

The hardest part was when my mom asked me to go next door to buy her drugs, like weed, methamphetamine and cocaine. She was often too tired to do it herself. I wanted to die because I felt like it would be my fault if she overdosed. But I did it so she would not yell at me.

When I was around 9 I decided I could not be my mom’s drug supplier anymore. Sometimes when I refused to get her drugs she screamed at me and called me a “worthless piece of s—t.” I’d fake laugh and say, “Ha-ha. You’re funny.” I thought that drugs made her do things she didn’t really mean to, so back then it didn’t even make me angry.

Everything changed when I was 11. A lady from the Department of Children and Family Services came to my school and took away my little sister and me. She told me, “The school called us and said that you and your sister have not been in school and that your mom has a major drug problem.” I began to cry.

Little did I know I would never move back home. I went through two different foster homes before, at age 13, I moved with my sister to a group home in Hollywood called Aviva.

From Despair, Hope

Living in a group home was tough because I had to live with 50 other girls. The staff told us what time to wake up, go to school, eat and go to sleep. I was used to doing whatever I wanted. I was mad at everything: my mom, the system. I took my anger out on anybody.

One day I got in an argument with a supervisor and I socked her. That night, I got in another fight because a girl didn’t clean up her mess when I asked. The staff sent me to my room.

In my room, I met a new girl named Lapondra. Lapondra told me about how she had to do everything for herself because her mom used drugs. But she didn’t let her past get to her. She had struggled but she kept her head up. She told me, “Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” Lapondra inspired me to be more positive and love myself for who I am.

Should I Risk It?

The staff at Aviva kept bugging me to call my mom. They told me, “She’s probably worried about you.” Most of the girls saw their families on the weekends, but not me. I wondered if my mom had stopped doing drugs and if she wanted to see me or hug me.

But I hadn’t called her since I went into the system. I was afraid she would hate me for not being there to clean up the house. I started thinking that maybe I should call her. Maybe she really was thinking about me.

Finally, I picked up the phone and called my mom. I couldn’t even talk because I was crying. My mom asked why I had to be so far away. That felt weird because she had never asked me questions like that. When I was at home she’d never asked me simple stuff to show she cared, like, “Where are you going?” or, “Where have you been?” It made me feel good.

But then she asked me, “When are you going to buy me a Scooby Doo sweater?” I couldn’t believe it. She said, “You get a check every month.”

I said, “Never!” and hung up the phone. I went to my room and cried. My mom had been talking slowly and I figured she was still doing drugs. I didn’t even know if she was caring for my younger brother.

Getting Help

I still had a lot of anger inside. I got into another fight and eventually had to leave Aviva. I went to another group home called Penny Lane. I still had an “I don’t care” attitude, and I got into a big fight right away.

I got scared that I would be sent to jail if I got in a fight again, so I talked to one of the staff, Damon. He gave me lectures about my behavior and how I could better myself. He told me I didn’t have to whine like the other kids when I didn’t get my way. It reminded me of what Lapondra told me about holding your head up and being positive.

After that, my behavior started to improve. What also helped was going to an anger management group. It was difficult at first because I didn’t want to remove the anger I had inside. I felt that if I changed, people would look at me differently. But a little part of me thought it might help. I was tired of losing my voice screaming at everybody. I learned that when I get mad, I don’t have to go off. I can go to my room, turn on my music and write in my journal. That worked. Gradually, I stopped getting into fights.

We Can’t Connect

The day after my 15th birthday, on the spur of the moment, I called my mom. I wanted a normal relationship, with a mom who tells you to go to school and do your homework and gives you attention. A mom who would tell me, “You’ll come home some day.”

Even though my mom said some nice things, it didn’t go well. I told her I hated her because I blamed her for my being in the system. She told me I had to get away from her to have a better life and that I was still her angel. She told me, “Don’t worry, you’ll be home soon.”

But somehow, that wasn’t enough. I thought it was a lie and that she never cared about me. If I tried to tell her about my problems, she said, “Oh girl, don’t worry about that.” I felt that she didn’t take my life seriously.

After that I decided not to talk to my mom anymore. I was trying to better myself, but I realized that whenever I talked to my mom, she brought me down and made me feel like crap. We barely knew each other and we didn’t understand each other. And I’m still angry at her for using drugs.

It’s My Life Now

These days I try not to think about my mom that much, and I won’t contact her. For now, it’s easier that way. It hurts that I don’t have a real mother-daughter relationship. But if it’s not possible to have a normal relationship, then I have to focus on making things better for myself.

When I was younger, I thought I would end up addicted to drugs like my mom. But I’m doing better than I expected because of the foster care system. Being in the system hasn’t always been a good thing, but it kept me in school. I’m going to graduate from high school and I plan on going to college. I’m proud of that. Even though life has been hard, I feel like I’m going to make it.