r/motherlessdaughters • u/RRR3p • 3h ago
I am grieving a mom who is still alive.
I don’t even really know why I’m writing this. I think I just need somewhere to put all of this because I’m fucking exhausted.
My mom just had life-threatening spine surgery. She was told she needed to stop smoking because it can keep her spine from healing, and she still refused. She is also smoking meth.
A couple of weeks ago, she basically overdosed on meth and ended up in the hospital.
And somehow, my sister and I are still the ones picking up the pieces.
We drop everything for her. We take care of her. We worry about her. We show up when she needs us. We have spent so much time trying to keep her safe while she continues making choices that are actively putting her life in danger.
And then she lies.
She failed another drug test last week.
So I finally had to cut her off.
And I feel fucking awful about it.
Not because I think I made the wrong decision. I know I didn’t.
But because she’s my mom.
I don’t want to cut my mom out of my life. I don’t want to have to set boundaries with my own mother because she’s doing meth. I don’t want to have to worry about whether she’s going to be alive next week. I don’t want to wonder if the next phone call is going to be another overdose, another hospitalization, or something even worse.
Meth has already ruined so much of my family.
It destroyed my parents’ relationship. My dad is gone now. And now I’m watching the same fucking drug take my mom away from us piece by piece.
And I have a daughter.
She just turned one.
My mom missed her first birthday.
I can’t even explain what that feels like.
Because I don’t just want my mom to be a mom to me anymore. I want her to be a grandma to my daughter.
I want my daughter to have the kind of grandma I always hoped she’d have. The grandma who can’t wait to see her. The grandma who shows up. The grandma who takes a million pictures, spoils her, loves her, celebrates her birthday, and is just there.
Instead, I’m having to explain to myself why her grandmother isn’t there.
And then I look at my husband’s parents.
They are fucking amazing grandparents.
They love my daughter so much. They show up for her. They care about her. They are involved. They are excited about every little thing she does.
And I am SO grateful she has them.
But sometimes watching them love her hurts.
Because I’m jealous.
I’m jealous that my daughter gets to have that relationship with them and probably won’t get that relationship with my mom.
I’m jealous that my husband gets to watch his parents be grandparents while I have to grieve mine.
And I feel guilty for even admitting that because I genuinely love that my daughter has them.
But I can’t help it.
I don’t just miss my dad.
I’m grieving a mom who is still alive.
I’m grieving the grandma my daughter should have had.
I’m grieving the family I thought my daughter would grow up with.
And I’m fucking angry.
I’m angry that my mom keeps choosing meth.
I’m angry that she lies to our faces.
I’m angry that we’ve sacrificed so much trying to help her.
I’m angry that she can miss her granddaughter’s FIRST BIRTHDAY because of this.
I’m angry that I have to protect my daughter from her own grandmother.
But underneath all of that anger, I just want my mom.
I want my mom back.
I want her sober. I want her healthy. I want her here. I want her to choose herself. I want her to choose us.
I want to be able to call my mom without wondering if she’s high.
I want my daughter to know her grandmother.
I want my mom to be part of our lives.
But I can’t do it like this.
I refuse to have meth around my daughter. I refuse to expose her to active addiction, lies, chaos, and someone who isn’t safe or stable enough to be around her.
So I’m choosing my daughter.
I’m choosing my sister.
I’m choosing myself.
And I’m choosing to stop rescuing my mom from the consequences of choices she keeps making.
That doesn’t mean I don’t love her.
It doesn’t mean I want her to die.
It doesn’t mean I don’t hope every single day that she gets sober.
It means I finally understand that I cannot save her.
I can love her.
I can pray for her.
I can hope she gets better.
I can leave the door open for her if she gets sober and genuinely wants to rebuild our relationship.
But I cannot keep destroying myself trying to keep her from destroying herself.
I just wish she would choose us.
Because we’re still here.
We’re still fucking here.
And we love her.
I just can’t love her at the expense of my daughter anymore.
I can promise my daughter will never experience this.
