“Call an ambulance. She needs help!” I managed to plead despite all my tears. That night, my mom almost died. She is an alcoholic. She drank to relieve stress, but it had gotten to the point where she could not go a day without this poison. I was thirteen years old is when it became a problem. Over the course of these three years, without my mom receiving the help she needed, it came down to us having to call 9-1-1.
I was terrified to go home at night, to fall asleep, and to stay asleep because of the nightmares I would have about that night. I did not want to talk to her because of how much I resented her. She played a mind game with me. She would always say, “I 'm going to get help. I 'm going to get my act together.” I believed her the first few times. Then, she would become more sneaky, and try to hide it from my whole family, while she continued to drink. Night after night, I would hear the bottles clink together, the jingling of the opener, and the popping open of yet another bottle of wine. I could not trust her. She never hurt me physically, but the emotional effects it had on me were traumatic and tough to live with everyday. I needed to speak up, but I did not want to talk to her because
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I didn’t know why I felt like I couldn 't accomplish even the simplest task. School counselors and faculty were seeing my struggle, so they reached out to my mom. She scheduled an appointment for me to see a psychologist. I learned that her alcoholism was not a problem that I could solve by myself; I needed others. This was a substantial lesson for me. During the years of my mom 's progressive drinking, I learned to take the initiative to solve most problems independently I could not depend on her. The night my mother hit rock bottom was the night my whole family knew a change absolutely needed to happen. Now, my mom and I are both receiving help, and I realized that even though I wanted to fix this independently sometimes it is necessary to receive assistance from