Rishon, 15, didn't realize just how devastating alcoholism can be—until she saw it firsthand in her mom.
I've honestly never felt sorry for myself for not having my mom around when I was younger. I think it's because my dad is so amazing. I've lived with him from the time I was a year old. He never sat me down to explain why I couldn't live with my mom but, over the years, I figured out that she is an alcoholic.
It wasn't until I was 12, though, that I finally understood what "alcoholism" actually means. Up until then, I didn't think it was all that big of a deal—I just didn't have any idea how dangerous this disease really is.
My brother and I usually visited my mom about six times a year. She must have been careful to hide the disease from us—I have no memory of seeing her drink, and our visits were nice.
MOVING IN WITH MOM
By the end of sixth grade, I noticed my friends talked a lot about their moms. They'd say things like, "My mom took me shopping, and it was so much fun!" I found myself feeling kind of envious. It was weird not to be able to do things with my mom like other kids. Still, I tried to put it out of my mind.
But soon, I was so curious about what it would be like to live with my mom. I wanted to have the kind of relationship with her my friends had with their moms. I went to my dad one day when I was 12 and said, "I'd really like to go live with Mom for a while." My dad was really shocked and said, "Are you sure?"
When it was nearing the time for me to move to my mom's house and begin seventh grade, he asked again. I think he was worried about how my mom's behavior might affect me. He told me he didn't think it was a good idea for me to go but that he wasn't going to stop me.
I knew my mom was irresponsible and had serious problems, but I had to try. My brother decided to live with my mom, too, which was cool but also sort of sad. We'd both lived with my dad our entire lives, and I was afraid it would hurt him to lose us both. But my dad was totally supportive, as usual.
DRUNK AGAIN
I'd never spent time around an alcoholic, so I didn't have a clue what I was in for. Almost immediately, I noticed my mom drank alcohol every single day, which was shocking to me. She'd start with wine and beer at about 11 a.m. From that point on, I never saw her without a drink in her hand.
The first time I saw her get really drunk was at a beach bonfire with her friends. She was really loud and obnoxious, and it was uncomfortable seeing her act that way. She just didn't seem "mom-like," and I hated it. I was finally trying to have a mother-daughter relationship ... and she was acting like a teen.
Although my mom was never mean to me, she could definitely say mean things to other people. She didn't care about anyone when she was drunk.
I couldn't stand being near her when she'd been drinking. It was like she was a stranger, and that was disgusting to me. From the beginning, I felt like I was the mom and she was the kid—and I was only 12. Because she was so unreliable, I had to cook, clean and do all the other "mom stuff." That was tough because I had school, too. I wanted to be the kid again. I quickly learned the only way to deal with my home life was to go to my room and shut the door or stay at friends' houses, which I did a lot.
My mom and I often argued when she was drinking, but it was always about absolutely nothing, which was frustrating. Our conversations were stupid. She'd assume things about my life or gossip about my teachers, and it drove me nuts because she knew nothing about me. She was too busy drinking.
I never told my mom outright that I couldn't stand her drinking habit because I knew we would fight about it. I kept it to myself and occasionally commented so she'd know how I felt. There was nothing I could do about it anyway.
It took a seventh-grade science class to clue me in on the exact nature of alcoholism. My teacher explained that it is hereditary, and I thought, "What?! I could become an alcoholic?" That scared me. I also learned that my mom can't help craving alcohol since it is a disease. But I was still mad at my mom. I figured if she loved me, she would just stop.
I've tasted alcohol, but I don't like it. I'm not saying I'll never do it again, but I don't care about it at all. And I'll always be aware of the fact that I'm more likely than others to become an alcoholic. But drinking reminds me of my mom and how awful she made me feel, so I hope I'll never let that happen to me.
MY LITTLE SECRET
I was too ashamed to talk to my friends about my mom's problem. It was like a terrible secret. But my best friend Erica figured it out. She'd see my mom act weird, but we never really talked about it. Looking back, I realize it was hard to hold in all of that shame. I shouldn't have. It probably made things worse.
Fortunately, my grades didn't suffer. My mom was never successful, so I wanted to prove myself by doing well in school. Plus, school was a great escape. I avoided going home after school because I never knew what to expect.
I don't blame myself for my mom's drinking, but it definitely damaged my self-esteem. Whenever my friends came over or I had to go out with my mom, I was worried about how she would behave. When we went to back-to-school night, my mom acted ridiculous. She always dressed too young, wearing low-cut tops. But, at the same time, I felt really guilty for being ashamed of her. I mean, she's still my mom. I love her.
My mom was nice to my friends, but she fought with my stepdad in front of them. So by eighth grade, I avoided having friends over. Pretty soon, I heard school gossip like, "Don't expect Rishon to invite you over!" I thought, "Well, there's a good reason for that, but I'm not going to tell you what it is." It was incredibly awkward—and humiliating—knowing kids were talking about me.
When I went to my friends' houses, their moms always treated me like they were my mom. That was comforting, and it helped keep me sane.
TIME TO LEAVE
Living with my mom was a huge letdown. I had planned to stay with her through high school. A few weeks before eighth grade ended, I realized I had to go. I was sitting at the dinner table with my mom and brother, and I said, “Im moving back home." My mom cried and said, "No, you're going to high school here!" We had a huge fight, but I'd made up my mind.
My brother stayed, and I knew he could take care of himself. But I was sad to leave my friends. I had wanted to finish high school with them. But I wasn't at all sad to leave my mom. I was way too angry. I knew she loved me, but she loved alcohol just as much. That hurt.
I was relieved when I got home. I didn't have to be the room anymore. My dad and stepmom were completely there for me, and I was grateful to have them.
A SHAKY FUTURE
One day after I had moved, my mom was speeding on the freeway and hit a tree. She wasn't injured, but she was charged with driving under the influence of alcohol and sentenced to house arrest for six months. During that time, she was required to stay sober. But as soon as her sentence was up, she and my stepdad took me out to celebrate—and my mom ordered a margarita! I couldn't believe it. I was like, "Are you crazy?!" I thought this was her chance to get clean.
Since then, my brother claims she's doing a bit better, but I'm uncertain about her future. I think it would take something extreme, like her getting injured or injuring someone else, for her to get treatment. It's sad to think she might never get help, but it's up to her.
THE SILVER LINING
Some positive things have come from the time I spent with my mom. It made me stronger and independent. And it makes me determined to never be like her. I feel proud for having survived such a horrible experience.
If you have a parent who is an alcoholic, talk to someone about it. Keeping it inside never helps. Confide in someone you trust, or call a teen crisis line. I now do phone crisis counseling at Teen-Line in Los Angeles to help other kids with similar problems and, surprisingly, it's helped me. I'm not alone. Everyone, at some time, has difficulties in life.
I'll keep praying my mom gets help, even though things don't look so great. Still, I know there's always hope.
BY RISHON ROBERTS AS TOLD TO SANDY FERTMAN RYAN
BY ANDREA T. ON 10/19/2009 7:00:00 AM 51 COMMENTS