Izzy's Story
How Izzy found her voice
On December 11th, 2018, I was told that my mother passed away. My mother had been struggling with addiction to substances like pot, meth, heroin and other drugs since she was 14 or 15. She had come from a long line of people who used substances to ‘control’ their pain, but her addiction got really bad right before my 10th birthday.
“She began to spiral out of control at a very fast pace, and as she took herself down she began to drag me down too.”
She began to spiral out of control at a very fast pace, and as she took herself down she began to drag me down too. I tried my hardest to hide her addiction from the world. I didn’t want friends at my house in fear that she might nod out or become mean. I would rush her out of social settings in order to stop people from seeing her high. I would panic anytime she wasn’t on time or didn’t pick me up because I didn’t want her to be dead. I went to school every day and acted like nothing was wrong, until I couldn’t hide it anymore.
When I was 11 my mother was pulled over three times with me in the car, but I didn’t tell anyone. I thought I could keep it a secret. If I stayed quiet maybe nobody would know or find out, but I was wrong. The following Monday there was a social worker in my kitchen, and I remember thinking I’d been caught. Before I knew it, I was removed from my mother’s care and placed in the hands of my grandparents.
I wish I could tell you that this is one of those stories where the person recovers, becomes clean, and everything ends well, but it’s not. After leaving her care, she only got worse. She would say “I’ll be there soon” and would never show up. She always had an excuse. I would wait at the window of my grandparents’ home watching and waiting for her to show up, but she never did.
“I would call her repeatedly in fear that I was going to lose her.”
I would call her repeatedly in fear that I was going to lose her. I was so scared of getting that call that she was dead, maybe on the side of some road, someplace. I was often in a state of panic. I couldn’t sit down, I had to be moving.
Some other people I knew who were also using made me feel bad if I didn’t give them money to ‘help’ them. One thing I’ve learned through all these experiences is an addict knows how to manipulate people to get what they believe they need to survive.
Eventually my fears came true. On December 11th in 2018 my mother overdosed and died. I woke up that morning as her mother, (my nana) called me in a panic. She asked me “where’s Rhonda, where’s Rhonda, I need to talk to Rhonda.” I went and gave my Grammy (Rhonda) the phone. 30 minutes later she came out, and I knew something was wrong. I hoped that my mother was just in the hospital because she couldn’t be dead, right?
My grandmother had me sit next to her, and she looked me In the eyes and said “The cops found your mother this morning, and she didn’t make it.” That sentence ripped my world apart. I froze in place, and then I broke.
Her death absolutely destroyed me. It was just one month before I turned 12, and I wondered how I would make it to my 12th birthday. I just wanted my mom.
“Recovering from addiction is super hard and many don’t make it.”
For example, my favorite teacher in recovery handed me my chip of completion and I gave her a big hug when I left. Two months later I learned that she had taken her life. I remembered what people told me about my other friend who died, “he won’t be the only one.” I had lost two friends in recovery and was sad but I stayed sober.
There are many ways to think about loss. I lost many of the things a kid has when growing up, like sports and educational opportunity. I lost my license and the ability to graduate with my friends. I lost my very self as I stopped caring about anything but the drugs and alcohol. Most tragically, I have lost 7 friends to overdose or suicide. So far, loss is the thing that defines my life, but that is changing.
“For the first year and a half I refused to tell people my mom died from addiction.”
For the first year and a half I refused to tell people my mom died from addiction. I didn’t want to be judged or bullied. I was so scared that if I told people they would think badly of her, and I didn’t want anyone to judge her. At the same time, I lived in a constant state of anger. I had thoughts like, Why would she leave me? What did I do to cause this? These thoughts dominated my mind.
I still lived with the same constant anxieties even after she was gone. I had to get above a B or I was a failure. I didn’t want anyone to buy me anything, because I felt like people were wasting their money on me. Anytime anyone was late, it sent me into a panic all over again. Even after 5 years I still frequently struggle with these anxieties.
Shortly after my mother died my grandmother made me start going to therapy, because of how badly I was struggling. I remember when she told me this I looked her in the eyes, and said “I’m not going to talk to that person, so it’s a waste of time.” Truth be told, I didn’t intend on telling that woman anything, because I was scared. It felt like if I opened up I was betraying my mother, or I feared something bad would happen. After some pushing from my grandmother I started talking, and it felt good to have it off my chest. I had held it all in for so long that I’d forgotten how much it weighed. Now after having that amazing woman as a counselor, I can speak freely about my experiences, and what happened to me.
“With all of this being said, the lesson is find someone you trust. Find an adult that makes you feel safe and secure.”
With all of this being said, the lesson is find someone you trust. Find an adult that makes you feel safe and secure. Tell them what happened and what you went through, even though it’s scary. People would rather listen to you and hear your feelings and your stories, than not be able to ever see you again. So tell your story, open up to the world. Holding all of that pain and trauma is only going to hold you down, and affect the way that you see the world, and people around you.
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