When people hear the word addiction, their first instinct is to think of the negative connotation that surrounds it. They think of miserable people who have nothing to live for. I bet

they even think that addiction could never impact their lives or the lives of those around them. However, substance abuse is more common than most believe. Personally, I know many people who have watched their loved ones become submissive to their addiction, including myself.

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While this is true, I have chosen to break the stereotypes that come with being a child of addicts.

As a child, I was very lively. I knew little to nothing about drug usage, addiction, nor how it would affect my life. I was first exposed to addiction by father. My father was never

actively involved in my life, no matter how much I begged him to. He lived with my grandparents, so when I would go stay with him, they ended up taking care of me instead. I never knew that behind the scenes, my father depended on his alcohol and pills to get him through the day.

 

Honestly, I thought he just did not want me in his life for something I did since that is what he told me. So, when I would be excited to spend the weekend with him, he would be out supporting his addiction instead of me. I never truly knew why he was never there or why he was

in and out of the jail system until the summer before fifth grade. In 2013, I was told that my father was sentenced to fifteen years in prison. I found myself questioning his actions and myself because I believed that if I was truly a good daughter, he would love me enough to stay out of

trouble.

     

I believed that up until I took it upon myself to find the answers I was looking for. After searching I found what I needed. My father had been arrested for armed robbery of a pharmacy. His addiction had gotten so bad that he was willing to go to extreme lengths to get his fix. Obviously, this was a lot to take in as child. I could not grasp the extremities of substance use, so I lived thinking the decisions my father chose to make were because of me.

 

While my fathers’ struggles were happening, my mother was going through her own. She had met someone who she thought was the love of her life. Someone to take care of her and help raise her children. Things with him were good at first, at least from what I saw through the rose-

colored glasses I wore so confidentially. I trusted this man, and I cared about him. To me he was the closest thing I would ever have to a father, and he did give me two siblings after all. However, he was more similar to my biological father than I realized. At first it was alcohol. He

was constantly drinking.

 

He came home from work and had a drink, cooked dinner and had a drink, everything he did he did it with a drink in his hand. From what I could see as a child, it was just the drinking. It consumed his life so much, that our family was caught in the crossfire of his addiction. The alcohol made him angry, and it was not very long until his anger became

targeted at us. He would start arguments with my mom and bully me. First it was small remarks, like my dinner was not going anywhere and making cow sounds if I said that I was hungry. Then it was more extreme and detrimental to my mental health. I began to hate everything about my body. I would stare at myself in the mirror and feel the tears stream down my face after sneaking and throwing up the dinner I just ate.

 

Then he became more violent. There were countless holes punched in the wall, plates shattered on the ground, and bruises on my mother. Most of these memories remain a blur, but I do remember being placed in my great aunt’s custody while my mom had to make the decision to leave him and do better for our family. After a year and nine months, my mother finally got custody of me and my two younger brothers back. She was doing great, until he came back around. He gave us empty promises saying that he had changed and wanted to do better for us. He was allowed back into our lives, and it followed the same pattern. Things were great until they no longer were. This time it was more than just alcohol. He started his battle with heroin. He was still just as abusive, but this time he did something that I could have let destroy me. He injected my mom’s arm with heroin. From that moment on, my mother’s

battle with substance use disorder inclined greatly.

 

The two of them were always fighting. We were short on money. There were times where we did not have heat or power because the money we had was going to the drugs instead. Being so young and watching substance abuse take over everything I held dearly to me, I figured it was my responsibility to take care of everything at home. I’d get up in the morning, go to school, and come home like every normal kid but my home was no longer the  same as it used to be. Instead, it was me making sure my brothers did their homework or had something to hold them until dinner. It was me shielding them from the trauma that was taking over my brain. As the addiction to heroin got deeper, my mother’s relationship became more abusive. It was no longer arguing and glass shattering, it was punches, slaps, and chokeholds.

 

It was my mother screaming and crying for help, and him telling me not to do anything or I would regret it. It was me hiding my brothers in the back room closet so they did not have to witness the terror happening in the kitchen. For months, I watched my mother have lifeless eyes as she was stuck in the never-ending cycle her ex had put us through. Eventually, child protective services were alerted about our home life, so they opened a case. I got placed into my cousin’s custody and my brothers were placed with our great aunt. It was the first time we had all been separated, and I feel into a deep depression because the only thing I knew to be normal was taking care of my brothers. I felt more alone and unseen than I ever had in my whole life. Of course, I was with a great family who loved me, but I was still a child who did not know what my life was anymore. My mother went to a rehab facility that did her justice. She became clean from everything that she once fueled her body with, and regained custody of us a little over two years later.

 

Now that was the end of my mother’s addiction, but not the end of her ex’s. He ended up attending the same rehab as my mother and was doing well. Once again, he manipulated his way back in and even regained my trust. He had plans to remodel our house, support our family, and make things right. He asked for my mother’s hand in marriage, and we were finally happy again. However, substance use is tricky and recovered addicts can relapse if they are not getting clean for themselves. He had succumbed to the drugs calling his name. Then our lives fell into the same pattern once again. However, my mother was stronger this time and was able to get us out of the situation once he became abusive again. She was brave and had realized that her sobriety was more important for her and her children than he was.

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So, the years have gone by, and I could tell you what substance use disorder took away from me. I could tell you about my loss of childhood innocence or how my father is still in prison but does not want anything to do with me. I could tell you about the sleepless nights where I stayed up wondering how I would make it through the next day. But as I look back on everything now, I realized that in some twist of fate, it is not what addiction has taken away from

me but what it has taught me who has shaped me into myself. Being surrounded by substance usage is not glamorous in any way, but it has taught me valuable life lessons that I feel I am here to share.

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The first lesson that substance use disorder has taught me is how to be sympathetic. People I know have looked at addicts as just that, an addict. However, you never know someone’s full story. You never know how they became addicted, if they are trying to get help, or if they feel like there is no help. All you can do is be sympathetic. If someone you know has substance use disorder you should not shame them but help them. Understand that there is more you do not see. There is more that they are not telling you. You must be patient and loving to help them through substance use disorder just as you would any other mental health disorder. Another lesson that substance use disorder has taught me is that during all the craziness you have to be strong.

 

Substance use is a disorder that you have to be strong to fight. You need to be strong if you are living around it. Your strength can help someone else’s weakness. I know that can be hard to believe that you can be strong and keep going, but I have endless proof of it. If I had not been strong through my childhood, my mother would not be where she is today and quite frankly neither would I. But my strength was able to overpower when I felt weak and

empty, and I am so thankful it did. There were moments where I felt like I did not have it in me anymore and it would be easier to let go of everything completely. There were moments where I had seen others feel the same way. But then there were moments where I had seen strength in myself, and others get us out of bed the next day. I cannot stress how important it is to be strong for yourself and those around you, it can help someone fighting addiction more than you could imagine.

 

I could go on forever about the things I have learned through watching my family fight substance use disorder, but I do believe the most important lesson could be used in any situation. That is to use your knowledge to influence those around you. I am sympathetic and I am strong, but I am also able to have the opportunity to use those characteristics to influence others. Because of what I have seen and what I know, I can help others learn more. I plan to help end the

stigma around substance use disorder by teaching those around me how it can actually be. I am a firm believer that everything in my life has led to me where I am now, and I am taking advantage of that. It can be hard to see someone you love or even yourself fight substance use disorder, I know that. I know the questions and the blaming and the confusion that comes with it. But I also know that what has been taught about substance use disorder is not enough. Most people are blindly ignorant to it.

 

They judge, laugh, and think that it could never happen in their life, and I get that. I was the same until I understood what was happening around me. I can confidently say that substance use disorder is scary, but the stigma around it is worse. So, starting with myself, I am learning more about substance use disorder. Obviously, I know what happened in my life, but it is different with each person. I am educating myself more so I can educate those around me. Currently, I am in college majoring in Early Childhood Education, and I plan to use everything I know to help my future students and children around me because I did not have that as a kid. I hope that when I have children on my own, I raise them to be sympathetic and strong. I hope to raise them with knowledge of substance use disorder but not with the negative connotations around it. Finally, I hope that my story can help anyone around me strive to end the stigma.

Cheyenne L. Straub