This is going to be an unpopular thread. I fully expect lots of hate and judgement and holier-than-thou shit. But I would still like to talk to fearless people who had kids, and were addicted to drugs, and did their best anyway. Because we’re not monsters, we’re just humans who aren’t perfect.
I never left my son in jeopardy. He never saw anything horrible, although he probably knew; and while I’m not proud, neither do I wallow in shame. There are far worse things.
Anybody have anything to say? I can tell you right off the top that whatever invective you choose to pile on me could not be worse than the pain I inflict on myself.
All the same, he was always fed, always loved, always walked to school and helped with his homework. The main damage was that we were too poor to live in a racially balanced neighborhood, and so he got picked on every day because he was the only white kid in school. But even if I hadn’t been on drugs, I would not have been on the fast track to a corporate career – even though I’m altruistic and intelligent, I’m just not a go-getter. Because a frou-frou job that pays well, even though it would be a challenge to my knowledge and skills, seems to have as the most important constituent the ability to pretend I’m better than other people, and pretend I’m someone I’m not.
I couldn’t do it before I had my son, and I couldn’t do it after. But I reiterate, he always had all my love and enough to eat.
Am I a bad person? Should I never have had my son?