From the age of six, I have indirectly been involved with drug and alcohol addiction. This is not about my addiction, but it is my story to tell. My mother, once a young and beautiful person, turned into someone her family no longer recognized. She had gotten addicted to prescription painkillers after a dental procedure. At the start of this addiction, she had 3 young daughters (including myself). This addiction wasted no time ruining her life. As the years went on, she transitioned from prescription opioids to opioids from the street, to meth, then cocaine, and eventually just whatever she could get her hands on in the streets. I remember following my mother in and out of these run-down hotel rooms and apartments. At that age I had no idea what was happening, all I knew was that I wanted to be wherever my mother was. It escalated to her sending me inside these places by myself to go and grab whatever drug she wanted from people she hardly even knew. I was so frightened, and I felt so helpless and lonely. I did not know what I was doing, I just wanted to help my mother feel better. These occasions became more frequent and I got used to that life. I would be pressured into helping her and her friends steal from gas stations, dollar stores, and even from family. Through all of this, she was still my mother. However, this affected me in ways one would not even be able to imagine. I was falling behind in school from being so overwhelmed. There were times I had to stay up all night and take care of her because she would be passed out on the living room floor. I was responsible for taking care of not only her but myself and my younger sister. As time went on and years passed, my mother’s addiction worsened. I was eventually placed into the custody of my grandparents. She was in and out of about twenty different rehabs. Sometimes she was able to sustain her sobriety for a few months but would ultimately relapse. She was in and out of jail frequently. I remember seeing her mugshot on our local jail roster after wondering for months whether she was dead or alive because I had not been able to contact her. She later gave birth to three more children (my younger brothers). Time passed and I entered high school. Her addiction and our strained relationship affected my mental health. I longed for a mother-daughter relationship. In my tenth-grade year, my mother passed away from an accidental overdose. I shut myself down from the world. I shut my friends, family, and education out. I had given up completely. I questioned everything. I know that addiction is a disease, but I fought so hard trying to convince myself that maybe she just did not care enough. It changed my view on addiction. Eventually, I was able to pull myself together and realize addiction is something that some people cannot overcome no matter how hard they try. Here I am now, a college sophomore about to obtain my first degree. Although, I cannot even express the strain her death has put on my education. Since then, I have obtained full legal custody of my two eight-year-old brothers and a five-year-old brother. From financial burdens, a constant state of worry about how I will pay for everything alone, and just the overall emptiness of having no mother. It has been unbelievably difficult to move forward.