This I Truly Believe
Throughout my life I have witnessed many horrible and traumatic things, but nothing as horrible or everlasting as the effects of loving and living with some one who is a prisoner to drugs. Growing up as a child I always remembered growing up in a loving and caring family, but it was not until the age seven that I found out my family was not so picture perfect. I found out that my father had been doing drugs and that financially we had began to become in way over our heads in debt because of his addiction. In school we always talked about people who were addicted to drugs, but it never really effected me ,because I had not yet experienced someone so close to me go through that.
My father’s addiction began to take a toll on me as youngest his son. I developed anger problems, where I would have outburst and began to break things in the house .The majority of times my anger and frustration derived from wanting my father to stop and come home to be a whole family again. I would become so angry with my mom at times feeling as though it was her fault or sometimes my fault for my fathers drug addiction. I would lash out, out of anger because my mom would not let my father back in unless he was clean of drugs. There would be many times I would feel pressured to be the man of the house, because for one my older brother has downs syndrome, my older sister was off
in college, my older brother was never really in my life, and my younger sister was just a baby My father would also tell me he needed me to be the man in the house while he was trying to get help for himself. I would feel inadequate as a young man because I could not possibly fill his shoes at the age of twelve and thirteen.
There have been many of times where he came in I would see my father come in from being gone after weeks or days at a time after getting high. I have seen him waste money that was suppose to either pay for family trips, mortgage payments, car notes, or other important expensive. My mother was not working and could not work due to health issues. As a result I witnessed my mother crying on the floor many of nights because she knew I would not be able to go to school the next day because my tuition was not paid, or because we were about the lose the house. I would get upset and frustrated because we were always financially stable, and then because of his addiction we even had to apply for food stamps at one time. We were always the family donating to food drives and to kids for Christmas, now were being the recipients of those donations. Those moments were very humbling and took a lot out of me.
The climactic point of this horrible stage in my life probably had been when my father came home high and had been arguing with my mom. This argument had been different from the rest, and something had not felt right. Sitting at the bottom of the steps as I always did watching them argue as normal, because my father would try to come back after getting high to sleep at home, my mother was simply not tolerating him staying the night, and made it clear through her actions. She began to push him out the door with all her might, only to meet the side of my dad that only his addiction could bring out of him. He had pushed her back and made her fall. At the time I was of sixteen years of age and full of rage. Upset that my father put his hands on my mom I began to fight my dad, and knocked him out completely. Little did I know that would be the last time I would see my dad for a while.
Raising a home with three other children on her own off a fixed income, my mother was becoming drained mentally, physically, but always maintained herself spiritually, which helped me with my anger problems. There would be times where my father would be clean for three to six months then relapse only continuing the vicious cycle. It was until probably the beginning of my sophomore year in high school where my father showed signs of being clean. He had went of to get help in Houston , Texas and it had been months in fact almost a year before I seen him again until my junior year in high school. While God was working within my father’s life he was working on mine. I had been attending counseling for my anger issues, and had been attending church more with my mom. My faith in God had become stronger than it ever had. I finally felt as though that the dark tunnel I had been traveling through had a light at the end of it, and that it was near by.
Little did I know God was in fact working in my life as well as his. He had been clean ever since, and I have been freed from my anger and frustration my father’s addiction had brought me. I believe that through walking in faith with God, and having the spirit of a fighter to keep on pushing and persevering through the hardships, that we all can reach the light at the end of the tunnel, the light that is symbolic to our greatest moments in life.
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