recovery

My Mom's Story

My Mom's Story

A blog post sharing a published essay my mom wrote during her recovery from a heroin and cocaine addiction in 2006.

Family.

My mom, her old boyfriend, and me.

My mom, her old boyfriend, and me.

As this is my first blog for the film why not start it off with a conversation about family, as that is what this whole film is geared towards. Ah family. It’s amazing how that one little word can give people such different feelings. Some might cringe at the word, others rejoice, but no matter how different it makes us feel the one thing that is the same.. is that all have one, or had one.

I just came back from visiting my mom. This visit was extra special because I was able to organize a meeting with all my brothers, their partners, and my mom. It's only the second time in our lives that we have all been in a room together. It's funny how during Christmas most people are so stressed out thinking about the presents to buy each other, that they forget it is a present, itself, just the opportunity to be together. A lot of families don’t live in the same city, have life responsibilities, or health issues that keep them away. So yes, sometimes just showing up is huge on its own! Anyway, this little gesture of us all just showing up brought tears to my mom’s eyes. It also brought tears to the staff where my mom lives, as that Christmas day no other women living on my moms floor had a visitor. It was so sad, I wished I could go hug them all and give them all presents, but I was there for another reason…to be with my family. As dysfunctional as it has been, it is MY family.

I remarked to my mom after the visit about a thought I had a little while ago, after paying a visit to my grandparents. As usual meals are a big thing when I visit them. We talk about it that day, and then usually buy the ingredients, plus the cooking, so it takes up a large part of the day. My grandfather loves to cook, so it's usually some nicely planned meal and lucky for us.. he's a good cook! What’s so special about these meals is that they are buddhist and we do a buddhist prayer before every meal. I love that about them, that they hold love and compassion for all beings. After our prayers, we continue on with great conversations which usually involve; talking about my mom’s drug use or her health issues, possibly something about my uncles drinking problem or lack of work, the daily struggles in my own life, mixed in with talks about the neighbors or their garden. After leaving last time I thought about how easy and flowing our conversations are. We aren’t holding onto anger or disappointment for how things are, we are just living through them…AS they are. On the outside our little reunion looks like a cookie cutter version of “seeing the grandparents” as we sit within their put together modest home with our tea and biscuits, yet within those walls has been so much heartbreak, but thats life… and FAMILY!

So I mentioned this to my mom, the fact that we have all somehow have managed to accept each other, to get past our differences, the need for control, or to change one another. She smiled, remarked on some of those drastic things that set us apart and as the conversation ended so did the thought.

Family.. it's just one little word, but it's what we put into, that makes it what it is. 🖤