I always thought I had one of the greatest childhoods. You made my childhood an unforgettable adventure. Every day with you was like a mission. You used to find every piece of scrap in the house and build games out of it. You always had a way of turning a box and piece of trash into a child’s wonder. Birthday parties were always nothing short of amazing. You’d reimagine every theme to transform the world around you and on my 13^thbirthday you loaded up ten little teenagers into your red Durango and took us TPing. My friends thought you were the “fun mom.” But to me you are so much more than that.

From a young age I always remembered you to be kindly unapologetic. We’d be baking in the kitchen and I could spill the entire contents of our cake on the floor and you’d turn my mistakes into a hysterical laughing matter. You were always forgiving and kind. But as I grew older you taught me things that would forever change the way I saw people. You would analyze people, but not in a bad way. You would teach me to find the root of all people to find what makes a person do the things they do, to look past actions, and truly love the world. I could be so angry with someone and you would urge me to see it for what it really was, and that was that we’re all just really hurting. And sometimes I think you taught me these things to forewarn me in hopes that I could see the person that always loved me unconditionally.

You see the days when you were around felt like those crisp summer mornings where the sun never seems to set, but the days you weren’t were always bleak. I can remember laying on the cold hardwood floor smelling the scent of burning plastic coming from the bathroom. I was 9 at the time and I understood the next few days would be hysterics. The first day you’d be off the deep end and at times I didn’t know what to blame, your depression, your bipolar, or the drugs. I could never blame you because you’re right, you were always hurting. The next few days you’d be up pondering your life’s questions and then you’d sleep. Sometimes it felt like days I’d be in the living room watching cartoons waiting for you to just wake up or waiting for dad to get home, but nothing was nearly as colorful without you around. And then the clocks would reset, and everything would be perfect again, except I’d cling to you hoping you’d stay. My whole life was a social worker’s case and I was the pen waiting to hit the paper that would sign my life away, but I wanted nothing more in the world than to be with you. I said whatever it would take to stay because only I could really see you for who were, and no one could ever understand that.

I must admit though at times I was scared. Scared of the fighting, scared of the police, scared to get taken away, but most of all I was scared to lose you. I spent my teenage years watching you go in and out of hospitals and jails, but it really felt like I was watching death in slow motion. I watched you decay before me. Your cheeks had sunken in, your eyes sullen. I watched you dissipate like ashes in the wind. It wasn’t until my later years when the delusions started and that was when the true reality of this addiction had engulfed you. It was hard for me to comprehend your thoughts. Nothing I said could make you see the truth and it came to a point where I became your enemy. You believing that I would hurt you broke my heart in a way I cannot explain, but seeing the despair in your eyes, the true absolute fear that someone you loved could hurt you, broke me the most. To me you felt like an innocent child lost in an abyss, always terrified of tomorrow. It was then that I had to leave. I could not watch you die any longer.

So, I am sorry I stopped taking your calls or never came to visit when you were in jail or the hospital. I felt like you were already gone. It wasn’t until Dad called and told me you had decided to get sober on your own. Of course I have heard this before and to no avail, but this time you called. I heard a new found light in your voice that I have never heard before. This would be a long trek, but life had given itself a new meaning. So yes, I will always be here to go to late night NA meetings and I will always be here to take your call. Just know that I will be here for you when you fall to help you back up again just as you did for me when I was a child. It’s been twenty years since your addiction started, twenty long years. I’ve watched the battlefield in your mind and watched as you fought back to only be pummeled to the ground. I’ve seen you countless times get back up again with the only notion to return to your children. And yes, I’ve seen you completely and utterly defeated, lost in the labyrinth of your mind. So lost the doctors told us there is no coming back.

But this is no ordinary woman. This is a mother whose undying love for her kids never let her give up. This is why after twenty long years I’ve see you climb that mountain; I’ve seen you walk that battlefield, beaten bruised still beating your chest. And I have seen you conquer an addiction that they said was impossible. Till this day I have never met someone as strong and as beautiful as you are. There are a million things I wish I could say to you, but for now I’ll say thank you. I thank you for teaching me unconditional love, for inspiring creativity, and instilling an unceasing strength in me. I am forever grateful to call you my mother. And forever I will be here when you need me.