"Piece by piece I fell far from the tree
I will never leave her like you left me
And she will never have to wonder her worth
Because unlike you I’m going to put her first"

-Kelly Clarkson, Piece by Piece

I'm not sure what I'm hoping to accomplish here. Validation? Closure? I don't know. I wish I did. I find the deeper I dig into the dysfunction of my family, the more confused I become. I know one thing; I want the cycle to stop here. I want to raise a healthy generation. My children will know their worth. They won't have to wonder if they're "good enough" for me. Ever. 

It's taken a long time for me to learn that I can stand up for myself, that I can protect my family. Despite everything that has happened, I am somewhat glad it did. I learned, and still continue to, so much about myself and my capabilities. It definitely hasn't been easy schooling but I am grateful for it. 

The guilt still hasn't gone away though. After all, she is my mother and I want to have a relationship with her. But after a long time wondering and questioning myself, I realize that I want the "what could be" relationship and not the reality of what is. I don't want a toxic person in my life, trying to undermine everything I work for. That's not a support. I don't want someone who can't respect my boundaries to be in my life. I don't want to constantly walk on egg shells around someone because I'm never sure what will set them off. 

It's not just her that makes this difficult. Some of her siblings, my family, forget that the reason I had to do this was because she is using again. I'm protecting myself and protecting my family. I finally put my family ahead of her and she doesn't like that. I wish they understood that this was not a decision I took lightly and I live with questions, regret and indecision every day. However, I need to enforce my boundaries for my health. 

I know that deep down, she's hurting; that addiction and the lifestyle that goes with that isn't necessarily something she chooses to do anymore. It's life for her. To be honest, I don't know if she's ever been completely "clean". However, she's been given multiple opportunities for help. While she may not be consciously choosing her addiction over sobriety anymore, she is choosing to not accept help when it was offered. She had a support system with me but violated the trust in ways I can no longer accept. I want to have her here, but I can't. It's been over a year since we were "friends". I use that term lightly because I think I was more of a crutch than anything else. When you're this deep into addiction, I don't think anyone is a friend anymore. Everyone is a vehicle, a vessel to get what you want or need. I have sent messages here and there, to test the water so to speak. The responses are generally polite but it just feels so superficial, like we're both faking it because we don't want to deal with the matters at hand. I recently talked with my husband about how much simpler life has been without her. I'm closer to him, I'm closer to my sisters and I am making conscious efforts to leave my past where it belongs. The drama that seems to follow her isn't around anymore. Don't get me wrong, it's tried to rear it's ugly head. She's made comments to others and tried to drag me down to fight but I do my best to stay above it. Does it hurt? Absolutely. Maybe this is my response to that? I finally get to tell my side of the story, even if no one ever reads it. 

I've recently started counseling. It started out as marriage counseling because that's what it felt like we needed. Jayson and I weren't communicating well, we argued a lot and the bad days seemed to outnumber the good. The worst part is that once we started going, I began to realize it was more ME that needed the counseling. A good majority of OUR problems stemmed from MY problems, that to be honest, I didn't really know I had. It's exhausting but I am trying. So is Jayson. I haven't given him half the credit that man deserves. When I realized how much I have done (and haven't that I should be), the fact he still is with me is a true testament to his love and commitment. A lesser man would have walked away for sure. 

One of the things my therapist suggested was possibly looking into depression and anxiety medication. Immediately though, that red flag of warning goes up. "Your mom medicates. What if the addict in you is lying right beneath the surface?" I fought it for a long time but after about 3 weeks being on medication, I notice a difference. It's not so noticeable when I'm taking it but it is incredibly noticeable when I don't. I don't react to the stress of life well when I'm not taking them, especially my anxiety medication. It's like the noise of the world just gets too much and I can't make sense of it at all. It's an overwhelming, suffocating feeling. Part of that I believe is heavy postpartum depression but I believe having Paige was the final summit into full blown depression-it was always lurking under the surface. Having her pushed it to where it had to be dealt with and thank goodness for that. A diabetic needs insulin to live. Their body just doesn't produce it or doesn't know how to use it correctly. This isn't any difference for mental health. My brain isn't producing the chemicals it needs. My medication helps with that. If the stigma for "needing help" wasn't there, I don't think it would have gone on this long before I got help. I'm the helper, not the one who asks for help. 

I feel like this post has gone in a million different directions. I'm not sure where it will go from here but I know that I feel better for having written it today. If you've managed to stay with me this long, thanks. I'm going to try and write as often as I feel the urge to. I guess I'm hoping that as I discover more and work more in therapy that I'll be able to process it and learn to let things go.