A few decades ago, I was born to drug addict parents. They had been addicts long before I was born and they would be long after. The first time I realized this was around eight years old. My third grade best friend invited me to a New Years Eve sleepover. It was the first time I had gotten an invitation to something and wanted to go. It was at nine pm on December 31st. I was so excited when my mom said I could go and that she would take me and I wouldn’t have to bring my sister (younger by four years). I can’t really remember what happened in between the excitement and the next event where we are going to my aunts house that afternoon. She lived on the other side of town, I’d say 20 minutes away from our home in Kentwood. I hated going there because my cousin braided our hair when we were there and it hurt at the time. Laughing but serious. And secondly, my sister would be all over me while my parents were locked in a room with my aunt for about 45 minutes or so. The first thing I noticed is that my dad always made this weird noise when we were there. It was like he couldn’t breath and kept sucking in for air but only could do it through a straw. This is called hyperventilating. I didn’t know this at the time but learned this as an adult. There also was a smell that I can’t describe but I would know it from anywhere. It was the smell of burning cocaine mixed with baking powder. Crack Cocaine. My mom would just seem out this world like she didn’t understand and wouldn’t remember things. Her eyes dilated and her ears non functional. I didn’t know what was wrong with them but I called them out on it constantly. It grew dark outside and I grew anxious. I questioned why we didn’t leave and why my dad kept drinking. He threatened my mom when she wanted to leave and when she tried to or succeeded at leaving. He always caught up to her. She cried a lot and so did I. We did eventually leave but the sun was rising, Happy New Years. The party was over. It was three am and I was beyond devastated. I missed my chance to get away. I ended up spending the night the next day I think but I cried all night the night prior. I would never forget this. It would not be the first event or moment in life I would miss or would not have because my parents, both drug addicts and one an alcoholic, choose their vices over my sister and I.
CR Anon-Chan 2017