The Party Mom
I was going to be the cool mom. As a teenager, I sat in my living room one day surrounded by my pot head friends. I felt such joy. I had it all. You see, I smoked my first joint with my mom when I was 14 years old. My first drunk was from the forty ounce of Old English that my mom bought for us. She would buy us alcohol, supply us with weed and gave us a place to party. All she wanted in return was that we made sure to buy her some. All my friends loved my mom. She was the party mom. The cool mom. So you can imagine my joy when I was constantly surrounded by friends, drugs and alcohol in a safe environment that welcomed it all and was safe. It seemed like I was on top of the world. What else could I want?
I didn’t know it at the time-but all I wanted was the one thing that was missing-my mom.
At the time it all seemed so great. My mom was my party buddy. All I wanted was to get high and looking back that’s all she really wanted as well. We were two alcoholics growing in our disease together. The only difference was she was more seasoned in her disease. When I grew up I wanted to be just like her. I would tell all my friends that I planned on getting high with my kids if I ever had any. But I told myself I would be responsible-I would wait until they were 16 years old before I would get high with them. That’s funny. It’s one of those “rules” we put on our disease to make us think we are in control.
I think it is now time to mention that there is no way in hell I would ever do drugs with my kids. At the time is seemed like such a great idea, but looking back now it set me on a course of self-destruction and spurred events that would take decades for me to recover from. I have no ill feelings toward my mom, because I know she was doing what seemed right at the time and she was battling with her own disease. We would fight like best friends, we would make up like best friends and we would hang out, laugh and do fun things together like best friends. Everything changed that night we smoked our first joint together. It was never the same since. My mom was gone. In her place was a forty-year-old hippy lady who taught me to roll joints and smoke resin when she was supposed to be teaching me about tampons and dating. I became an expert stoner and drinker but deficient in the ways of mainstream society. I had no idea what a healthy relationship looked like, or how to deal adequately deal with conflict. We were always numb from feelings, so how could I learn to effectively manage them? Also last but not least there was never any mention of God. He was the last thing on our minds.
Thank God I have found the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous. In this simple free program, I am learning everything I lacked growing up. When the party was over I looked out at the world with fear. I had no clue how to live. I’m learning not only through God and the twelve steps, but through those I surround myself on a daily basis. I feel like everything I lacked growing up I am getting from those around me. Sure I started late, but that’s ok. I’m a quick learner.