- Drugs
- Friends & Family
- Mental Health
My name is Stephanie I was raised in the Pacific Northwest.
My story begins and ends so many times in my 32 years of life. It is so hard to start this story. But I’ll just start typing and see where I end up. I was out of my home at the age of 16. I was watching my mom self destruct after her and my Dad separated.
Both of my bio-parents have struggled for many years with substance abuse. I am certain that over the years that was their easiest way to cope with the day to day stresses of being an adult and parent. Self-medicating seemed to be the easier route. Who has time to do therapy? Who can afford it. Who has INSURANCE coverage?!
With the stigma of mental health finally becoming less taboo in the resent years. It is somewhat easier to access help when it’s needed. But I didn’t always know when I, myself needed help. I grew up thinking that a hard day’s work equals a beer or glass of wine. Then as I got older and had to start stepping in to raise my siblings, continue my education, and start a family of my own. I realized that self-medicating was really what was going on all those years and continues with them.
I have watched drugs and alcohol tear my siblings’ childhood apart. My younger sister and brother are 10 years younger than I am. I found myself taking on the role of a mother, shortly thereafter moving out of the family home. My dad had left my mom months before then and I watched my mom get deeper and deeper into the darkness of drugs. It was probably the only way she knew how to make the pain temporarily subside. I am not sure why my Ddd left my mom. I only know that after that time, my family disappeared and I was left as the oldest of 3 to take care of my brother and sister, as did a handful of Aunts, Uncles etc…
My little brother (21) ran away in the 8th grade. He moved in with his childhood best friend and their family. He graduated high school and played sports and had a somewhat a normal life. My sister (24) lived with me from 8-9 years old until she was 16. She went to live with an aunt, and she also graduated high school. But they still suffer with their own abandonment issues that cause their mental health issues. Who wouldn’t have issues after all of that, right? Our Dad started using, or I started to notice my dad was using and selling something. I heard it was meth and heroin.
Once I stopped by my dad’s place to say hello. I hadn’t heard or seen him in a while. I walked in and he was so “out of it” he ACTUALLY asked me to shoot him up with heroin because he was getting “sick” and couldn’t find a spot and I am a Medical Assistant/Phlebotomist. WOW RIGHT?! Yeah, I was ill over it. He got clean again due to jail time, got out and relapsed. Our dad wasn’t around much for my little brother and sister when they needed a dad; specially my little brother.
My dad suffered from a severe heart attack last January. He lived in Alaska with his side of family, staying sober. I have a blended family. My dad is Samoan, my Mom is Irish. So their culture is very tight-knit. Everyone knows what everyone is doing. Or so I thought. I received a call January 28th, 2016 from Alaska Providence ACCU that said my dad had a heart attack. I needed to get myself and brother and sister there ASAP.
My brother and I left January 30th and my sister shortly after that. I arrived in the ACCU and I dropped to my knees as I saw my lifeless dad laying there fighting for his life with machines keeping him alive. I was greeted by the palliative care nurse who works with the next-of-kin, as the oldest child, was me. I asked the nurse, in private, if he had anything in his system. She told me that his blood work was positive for meth. My worst fear was lying right in front of me. My dad was dying!! His heart was 97% blocked in the left ventricle and the heart attack was caused by that and a mixture of meth.
I sat in that hospital room day after day just praying for a miracle. Had family meetings with all of the doctors. Liaison between them and my Samoan side of the family, making decisions that I didn’t want to have to make. We needed our dad back! So many years had come and gone between the last time we spoke. He had called me a couple of days before my birthday that December and i had never did call him back. For that, I am sad. They’re so many things I never got to say, or ask.
My last day in Alaska with my dad wad Feb 7th, 2016. I watched the last Super Bowl with him in his hospital room that day. I knew that he was gone and not coming back. I held his hand and cried and cried until I didn’t have anymore left in me. It was too much for me to sit and watch him lay lifeless and not be able to do anything to help. I understood, all too well, what was inevitable. My own mental health was taking a turn for the worse and I needed to be with my husband and children. I know my dad would have wanted me to go home and take care of my family.
So I hugged him, and kissed his forehead as I said goodbye one last time. My siblings decided to stay. I felt like I was abandoning them too. But I needed to get my mind right. I was surrounded by death, despair and had enough of living in the hospital ACCU. I ACTUALLY practiced “self-awareness” and knew when I was tapped out. That had never been “me” I’m usually an over-doer.
My dad’s breathing tube was removed 5 days later and he fought very hard. He took his final breaths February 20th. That is when my life changed forever.
This is just ONE of many traumatic experiences/stories I have had in my life. I have somehow kept my sh*% together the best way I can throughout.
I feel that this one is the most life-changing. Keeping it together (staying sober during the easiest times to drown out all feelings) is empowering to me.
Thank you for listening.