A Mother's Fight

TW: mental health, substance abuse, suicide

A Mother's Fight

She was tired. But her mind kept her up all night, thinking of facts and ideas and stories. 

Memories of her childhood, where she could fall asleep the moment she was tired. 

She was tired. She could have sworn she heard something on the porch, so she had to be sure and check it, and then check on the kids again, for good measure. She wanted to stay up all night and watch, again... "Not tonight..." She thought. 

She was tired.

She was tired. 

It was the third day in a row 4 year old Malia had woken up at 5:45 AM, just as she was finally falling asleep after a long night of worrying.

After some snuggles that were so cute they could almost give her energy, she mustered every ounce of it she could, and pried herself out of her big comfy bed to make the kids breakfast.

It was too big for one person. She wanted to let the kids sleep with them but he never would let her; A red flag that she wished she could have seen before they had children together. 

She wished she could have seen a lot of things in hindsight, but when they first started dating, it was right after her parents had died, and her brothers separated from her in foster care.

She was hurting. She was angry. She was desperate for love of any kind. 

She wasn't sleeping, or eating, or talking to anyone.

He took advantage of her like a hungry bear does an injured deer in the woods, and got her when she wasn't suspecting it. 

He got her when a lot men get women; He got her when she was tired.

She was tired, the kids were screaming at each other, the cat had knocked over CeCe's cereal bowl, and all before 6:30 A.M. Worst of all, the coffee maker decided to stop working this morning. 

"That'll have to wait until payday." she thought, pulling a pot out of the cabinet for cowboy coffee. She opened the lid. 

Crumbs. 

"FUCK!"

It came out loud and forceful, before she could stop it. She looked up and saw CeCe, her precious, innocent two ear old, and her sweet, always helpful Malia, looking back at her with scared expressions. They never heard her curse. The certainly never heard her lose her cool like that. 

She walked over to them and embraced them in a tight hug. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell, and it wasn't at you guys, ok? I'm just out of coffee, that's all. No biggie. Mommy's just..." She trailed off, not feeling the need to finish the sentence. They knew. They could feel it too. She was tired.

She was tired, and she got to work late because she stopped for coffee. Her boss was waiting at her desk when she walked in. He didn't look happy.

Then again, he never did. 

"You're late." He stated flatly, sifting through some papers nonchalantly.

"I know, I'm sorry, I was-"

"I don't care about your excuses, ok? That's not why I'm here. As you know, our offices are moving and we have to downsize."

"FUCK." She thought. She knew what that meant. Her mind started going down the sinkhole of worst-case scenarios; Would her and her children end up under a bridge, starving and cold? Would someone take them away from her?

"...anyways, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we have to let you go."

She was tired of this shit. Tired of her boss, tired of her job and her coworkers.

She could find a better job, easily. She had been checking the ads ever since he mentioned it a few months ago. She was trying ot make herself feel better, but finding it difficult not to cry.

She put her box of office supplies in the backseat of her car and slammed it shut, taking a deep breath.

"Be easy on this thing, doesn't look like it can take much more of a beating."

The deep voice took her by surprise and she turned to see an old friend.

An old friend, she thought, that had gotten a lot more handsome since she saw him last. 

"Mike! Oh my gosh, when did you roll into town? Last I heard you moved to Mexico and started a deep sea fishing charter!"

She hoped she didn't sound as excited as she was to see him.

She kind of hoped he would ask her out- if anything just for a break from everything else. 

"I've been good. I actually just moved back into town and was going to look you up. Do you have any plans for tonight?"

"Tonight? Oh, the girls have a ballet recital and I can't miss it, but maybe tomorrow or Saturday?"

Ballet? Her girls had never set foot in a ballet studio. But she needed an excuse. She hoped he would ask her out. 

Just not tonight. 

She was tired. 

She was tired and didn't feel like cooking tonight, but she didn't have enough money to order in either.

The kids were begging for grilled cheese and tomato soup.

Cheese, bread, canned soup: Easy enough.

She watched them eat with a small smile, reminiscing on memories of her own childhood, when she could eat carefree, not worrying about how much it costs, or the mess that's needing to be cleaned up after each meal. 

She envied them, but she was thankful they were too young to understand. She was also thankful for the simple ability of them to have a peaceful meal without a rabid dog in the background just waiting on prey to pounce on and infect.

Their father had a way of making every good occasion turn into a nightmare. Anytime anyone seemed too happy or at ease, he felt an impulse to jump on the opportunity to ruin it. He would start fights out of the craziest things. One time he got angry over her buying the wrong type of cheese, and ended up throwing his plate across the kitchen, where it barely missed Malia's head, who was just a baby at the time.

Her stomach growled. She looked in the fridge and saw nothing but a jar of pickles, sliced cheese, and a bottle of ranch, which she was pretty sure was empty.

"This'll have to do." She whispered to herself, grabbing the pickles and a few slices of cheese to go along with them. 

It had been two days since she had eaten a meal. It had been 2 years since she had more than one meal in a day. 

"bing!" her phone let her know she had a message on facebook.

"Hey you. I was craving Tony's pizza tonight and remembered your old house was right down the road, do you still live there? And more importantly, do you want some pizza? They screwed up and gave me a free hamburger one. I hate it, but I remembered one weirdo who loves it. Let me know!" 

It was from Mike. 

The girls had just put on their pajamas and laid down. She just had to read them a book and they'd be out. 

"I sure do, and pizza sounds amazing. come on over." She sent back.

She was tired, and didn't care much about how she looked. She had known Mike since they dated in high school and nearly ruined each others lives.

They were both horrible influences on each other. If one asked the other to party, drink, smoke, or any number of other illegal and/or dangerous activities, they would say yes.

They couldn't resist each other. By the time they were 19 they were already hooked on drugs. It took getting chased by police and jumping into a dumpster to hide from them to wake her up. 

She left that day without saying a word, and didn't look back. She heard he had gotten clean a few months later and was doing good for himself up North. New York. They had always talked about going there on their benders. They had a lot of lofty dreams back then. She was happy knowing at least one of them made it. 

"At least my kids are cute..." She thought with small giggle. 

The doorbell rang.

"That was quick, hey, how are you?" they gave each other an awkward hug and he walked in, holding two pizzas that made her mouth start watering. 

"I'm starving, wanna beer?"

"Sure, thanks."

"No, than you! I haven't had time to go to the grocery store in a while...- 'or the money'" her mind interrupted. 

They sat and talked for a while, laughing and reminiscing on their glory days, or as she liked to call them, their criminal days. 

They went outside and he offered her a cigarette. She hesitated, but decided to go for it.

"So how have you been, really? You seem really stressed out. And I know it hasn't been easy with Paul gone."

She took a big puff, then coughed. "I almost forgot how to work these things. God knows this is one habit I'm glad I can't afford anymore. Not that I ever really could. I'll admit, though, it does take the edge off."

She completely ignored the question, but he decided not to mention it. 

"I have something else that could take the edge off, if you're interested." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box. 

There it was. There was that mischief he always had to invite her into.

"Goddamn it, Mike! Why can't we just eat pizza and smoke a cigarette and call it a night? Why do you always have to bring this shit into my life? I have kids now! This isn't how I roll anymore, and I'm really sad to see that you're still into this shit."

Mike smiled. 

He had heard this all before. They were together 4 years and the last two of them were spent in a heavy drug addiction. 

No matter how many times she had tried to convince everyone she was going to quit, she never could do it.

Not until she left him. 

"Oh sweetheart, calm down. It's just a little lighthearted fun on a Thursday night. It's not like when we were dating, I promise. I'll hardly ever see you with my work schedule. I promise, this is the only time I'll tempt you. If you say the words, I'll leave right now. But something tells me you need this. You need a break, don't feel guilty about that. He smiled that charming smile that always made her melt into a puddle. 

The main difference between now and back then, though, is that back then she was young. She had a ton of energy to burn off. Plenty of room for mistakes. Always hungry for the next adventure. Now, though?

She had kids. She had bills. She had no help. She had no money. She had no energy.

She was tired. Too tired to speak. Too tired to protest. 

He took her silence as an okay, and unlatched the small plastic case. Inside was a small plastic bag, a lighter, and a pipe, no bigger than her index finger. 

She watched him as he took it out, put a small dab into the pipe, put the flame to the bottom of it, and inhaled a thick cloud of smoke. 

As if she was watching from the outside of her own body, she saw herself extend her hand towards his, and him placing the pipe in her hand. She watched in paralyzed horror as she lifted it to her lips, and he put the flame to it.

Involuntarily, she took a deep breath in.

She didn't cough this time. She closed her eyes and let her body absorb it. A few seconds later, her eyes popped open. 

"How does it feel?"

Mike's voice brought her back down into her body. 

A little too deep into her body. She looked at him, noticing how different he looked. Seeing him in a new light, thankful for his kindness in bringing food for her, almost like he knew. Like a guardian angel.

It had been so long since she felt that way towards anyone.

She leaned forward to kiss him, and then blacked out.

"RIIING, RIIIING, RIIIING!"

She was tired.

It was 6:00 AM and she had just woken up to the alarm, feeling like hell, on the couch across from Mike, who was passed out in the recliner. 

"Hey, Mike, wake up. Hurry, you gotta go before the girls see you. You never know what time those gremlins will wake up."

She rushed him out the door before they could discuss what happened last night.

She was relieved they hadn't hooked up at least, but she felt an immense weight on her chest that she knew was from the guilt and regret that was going to hit her full force once the drugs fully wore off. 

"How could I do this to the girls? With them right down the hall sleeping? So innocent. I could ruin their lives, I thought I was done with this stupid shit. This was teenager stuff. This isn't me. I can't see him again."

She got the girls to school and daycare, and herself dressed decently enough to go look for a new job.

She looked at the coffee pot, still sitting broken on the counter. 

She really needed a boost.

She called Mike.

He always had the antidote to the 'day after'.

After all, she had a ton of stuff to do today, and how much could she really accomplish when she was tired?

After getting laid off yesterday she had laid in bed, unable to move for several hours, almost in a catatonic state, before getting up and writing down a list of all the places to check if they were hiring.

She tried to hype herself up, told herself it's a new opportunity. She could finally have a fulfilling job... If such a thing exists. There were so many possibilities!

She had scheduled herself a full day, just like she would have it she were at a job. At 8 o' clock sharp, she would arrive at the "sure-fire hires", what she dubbed them for the fact that they would hire just about anyone on the spot, so long as they had two eyes, two hands and half a brain. They were a series of warehouses where they butchered animals.

"I would be hanging out with dead pig carcasses all day and it would still be better than living with my ex husband!" She joked to herself. By noon she would be onto bigger and better things: The restaurants. She was still young and energetic enough to be a good waitress at the fancy ones. She could get good tips with her winning attitude. She was a real people pleaser when it came to getting paid for it. 

However, at twelve o' clock today, she was nowhere near any fancy restaurants. 

Mike had told her to come over, and like a chicken following the feed shake, she did.

There, they spent the next five hours in a euphoric state of bliss and bad decisions. She hadn't slept with anyone since the incident, but there was no denying the heat between the two of of them.

She figured it doesn't really count if it's someone you've done it with before right?

Around 2:30 PM, she stood up abruptly, "Shit, 2:30 already? I have to get cleaned up and pick up the girls."

"Wait a second! Here, take this. For the road." He offered her the small bag of Heroin they were doing last night with a wink.

She took it without thinking, telling herself she would just save it for a rainy day. 

That night she lay awake, trying to fall asleep but she couldn't stop thinking about it... it was right there in her bag... so close.

After fighting it for as long as she could, she shot out of bed and ran to her closet, where she took down the backpack she had hidden it in.

She locked her closet door, and took a deep breath. 

"I can't let him do this to me. I have to stay healthy for my girls. I'm all they have left."

She began having flashbacks of the events that led her here. 

Although it was hard to pinpoint where the cascade truly began. 

With tears burning down her face she relived every moment of their last day together.

Each breath brought a nasty look, a hateful remark, or the physical sensation of where she was injured during the struggle.

This happened every night, routinely, for the past two years.

A relived PTSD experience through shaky tears and shallow breaths. 

She wanted so badly to heal, for her daughters, for herself, but she didn't believe she could anymore. The trauma had taken all she had, and she has been running on reserves with no breaks to fill up her tank.

She felt she couldn't even love her children properly anymore, and every day was just going through the motions.

Living to survive. No ounce of joy or hope in her life. 

She couldn't do it anymore. She couldn't shake the pain, the memories, the regret.

With robotic movements and numb hands, in what couldn't even be considered, by the outsiders perspective, a choice, she unzipped the backpack, unwrapped the little sticky ball of black tar, and sent herself over the edge, one last time.

She was tired, and now, she could finally rest.