When most people hear the word "mom", the characteristics sweet, caring, dependable, beautiful, and friend may come to mind. When I hear the word mom, heartbreaking, addiction, disappointment, and pain are the words that come to my mind.
I remember at the age of 6 or 7ish, I started noticing weird traits about my mother as in the aging of her face, her shaky hands, her moodiness, and drowsiness. I always wondered why my mom was different from the other moms. Sleeping all day, not getting out of bed unless she needed a snack or was getting sick. She never played with my sister and I. Never got dressed up, or did her makeup. Never showed up at my school activities, or for awards. Never taught us to eat right, or play nice, or to share. Never would help us with our homework. Never drove us to school. Never did really much of anything. The one thing my mother always did though was tell us she loved us, hold us, kiss us, and hug us. I could tell that she did indeed love us very much, but not as much as she loved drugs.
The first time I found my mothers needles, I remember crystal clear...standing in the mirror next to my mom while she brushed my hair. I reached down next to the cabinet to grab a small pouch out of her purse, what I thought at the time could be carrying makeup like my friends mothers had used their small pouches for. I opened it and looked at the needles and said, "Mommy can I use one of your lip-glosses?"
She quickly grabbed the small purple polka dot pouch out of my small fragile hands, and told me, "No, no sweetie. That's not lipgloss, don't touch those. That's the medicine for our cats."
Having two kittens at the time, being young and oblivious, I replied, "Okay mama, I won't.”
She reached back in her purse, pulled out some Chapstick, and said, "Here honey."
I was slightly disappointed it wasn't sparkly and glossy like the lip balm the other girls received from their moms. But, I still took it and put it on my lips, as her shaky hands continued to move the brush throughout my long, soft and silky hair.
My mom wasn't always this way. When my parents were married, she'd get all dolled up before my dad came home from work, and the whole house was always absolutely spotless at all times. When my sister and I would wake up, she'd feed us, bath us, and then spend countless hours dancing around the house, playing games, cuddling watching movies with us. Then right before we'd go to bed, we would all have story time, she'd tuck us in and her and my father would both express their love for us. We'd say prayers, and go to sleep knowing that the next day would be just as wonderful and perfect as this previous one.
At the age of four, my dreams had begun to get interrupted by the sounds of my parents arguing. Next thing I knew, my parents were divorced. We spent some days with our mom, and some with our dad. Not understanding why my parents didn't live in the same house, like most of my friends parents had. I was a lost, confused, and heartbroken little girl.
In the next year or two, the transformation of my mother took place. I realized I had been staying at my dad's house more, and was spending less time with my mother. It really hit me by the time I was only spending once a week with her. Considering I was a young female, I had many questions, wonders, and changes going on in my life. Practically being raised by a single father was tough, and I began to crave a mother figure so badly.
I attached myself to anyone who would let me in. Teachers, My friends’  parents, my grandmother, etc. I felt myself slipping into a dark place, a place I had never even thought existed.
When I was about 7, after my mom had been involved in police chases, car crashes, bad relationships with scary and abusive men, hospital visits, and had put our lives in danger at many times... The last and final thing happened the day my dad had went to drop us off for our once a week over at moms apartment, that would change our lives forever.
We had pulled up right next to my moms white Durango at her apartment complex. She greeted us outside in her sweatpants, holy oversized tee-shirt, coffee in one hand, and a cigarette shaking in the other. Her hair was pulled back and, she was wearing dark colors as usual Her once beautifully tan and even toned skin, was now pale, scarred, and bruised. Giant bags under her once wonderfully enhanced, breathtaking blue eyes, wrinkles on her young skin, she was only about 25. This body that consumed my mothers soul was not hers.
Our father unbuckled us from the car, we jumped out of the car and plunged towards our mothers open arms. I cherished each moment she held me. She told us, "Lets get in the car kids, we're going over to nanas house... She is going to watch you for a few while mommy runs out to get some thing's."
My heart sank into my stomach. "You've gotta be kidding me," I thought. I hid my true feelings as I hopped into the backseat of her car.
By the time I was in the car my father had picked Constance, at the time my 3 year old baby sister up. He opened the door her car seat was by and was just about to put her in the car when something caught his eye, sticking out of her car seat. He picked it up.
I looked at him and what he was holding in his hand, and said, "Daddy, that's the medicine for our cats."
He looked at me with a very lovable, but sad look in his eye. "Kenzie, get out of the car."  I looked at him, smiled, and followed his order.
He put Constance, and I back in his car while him and my mom argued in between the cars. That was the last time I saw my mom with any sort of parenting right. Throughout my life I see her occasionally, on holidays, birthdays, and special occasions. Growing up without a mom has been tough, that's when the whole idea of a mom just became a heartbreaking, disappointment to me. For years, I had been trying to fill that massive gap in my heart. I realized I am now a stronger person and that has impacted and shaped me to become the person I am today. I now realize, that what happened in my childhood, all happened to change me for the better. It was the missing piece I needed to fill that gap. Appreciate the good and bad moments.