When my mother died... the first and strongest thing I felt was relief. Even years later I can objectively look back and conclude that her death was a net positive thing in my life. If I ever told my father it would break his heart. E* for those wondering why: She was very very sick (mentally ill, the sort that gets institutionalized) for a very long time (my entire my pre-teen and teen years).

I was 10 when my mom met a dude who had just gotten out of rehab. 11 when her drug addiction started and I was 13 when it ended. And when I say ended I don’t mean that she got better. I mean it took her with it. During those years I was beaten,raped, dehydrated and starving. Yet I stayed by my moms side. She knew what was going on and she knew that we were in a bad situation. I was depressed and suicidal just begging for this to be over. Yet I stayed on my mother found out and called me attention seeking and that she’d beat me like her boyfriend did if she ever saw my cuts again. When I was 12 two men came into my room and took turns on me and she saw. And she walked away. I was dragged and used and she saw and didn’t stop anyone.we had finally found a place to stay and it was pretty good she had her drugs and had food,water and a roof over my head I couldn’t complain so the night we got into a fight And I quote “ you can’t leave me I need you” and I replied with “ you left me that night when I needed you. “ and i left for a walk and when I came back she has needles in her arms and she has overdosed I called the police and I just stood there. All the death. All the pain I saw it was unbearable she when they came I left. when I was 13 a nice family took me in and it was like my prayers had finally been answered. I had food, water, a place over my head yet I feel the guilt of seeing her body I feel the pain of picking up the phone and calling 911 to tell them I found my mother with a needle in her arm

• June 12, 2023