Instructor:
ENG 122: Composition 1
December 10, 2015
My Addiction, My Recovery "It can never happen to me" I thought, as I watched my father drink himself into oblivion and smoke his drugs, from sunrise, to sunset, and sometimes, for days, even weeks with no break in between. When he left, I remember feeling relieved, even at the early age of two. He was in and out of my life, just as often as he was in and out of rehabiliation centers for the chemically addicted. I didn't mind, I didn't have to watch him slowly kill himself, and hurt my mother, brother and I in the process. I never wanted to be like either one of my parents, both addicts with two different choices of poisons, I told myself every single day that would never be me. Me risk losing it all, my family, my friends, my health, everything in the world that means anything to me at all? "Never" is what I told myself, every time I thought of my father, or looked at my mother. That wasn't what I wanted for my life, I wanted a good life, full of happiness and ambition, surrounded by those I love, and I would never settle for less. My parent's and their lifestyle were things I looked to for motivation to stay focused, and on the right track. Boy, did that ever backfire! My brother and I are three years apart in age, he is older, but not by much when it comes to mentality. One night, after a long night of work, I was 15 and already had dropped out of school, I walked into my brothers room and found him at his computer desk doing drugs. The same drug my father was into, they just consumed it in two different ways. I immediately reacted with anger and rage, "How can you be so stupid?! Do you want to turn out like Dad, living on the streets, on trains, or constantly having to worry if he is even alive?!" I screamed, before even thinking about talking to him rationally. He