Battleing Mom's Demons

If the monkey is on her back, why am I going through so much pain? Being the daughter of a mother with an addiction is a very difficult role to play is today's society. Everybody wants to complain to me about how I don't do enough or I'm not understanding enough. I'm an only child. I'm not now nor have I even been addicted to any drug other than nicotene. Living my life I need something to keep me sane. Maybe I need therapy. The point is I have done all that I know how to do. I've threatened doctors, contacted the medical board, fought with hospitals, police officers, behavioral health facilities... All of these people who are put in place to assist, yet where's my assistance? All too many times I've heard, "We're sorry. There's nothing we can do if she doesn't want help. She's an adult and that would violate her rights if we intervene." Her rights? Are you serious? She has the right to slowly kill herself? She has the right to ruin her loved ones lives? She has the right to tell me she wishes I was never born? Do I have the right to hurt?
         She was raised by great parents. My grandparents were upstanding citizens. Of course back in their day, you stood by your man and your family no matter what. Truth is, it could have been worse than I remember. But the beauty was, no matter what happened between a man and a woman in marriage, the kids just didn't really know. We didn't see it. She was raped at 16. Married at 17. Had me at 20. She took illegal street drugs and tried to commit suicide many times when I was a baby. Growing up she always told me how much she loves me and she even showed it. Told me how it was me that saved her life. If I could do it as a small child, why can't I do it now?
          In my memories of my mother, I've seen her get hit, cheated on numerous times by my step father, and my personal favorite....the prescriptions. My memories of this pretty much started when I was 14. Her and my step father were seperated. At first it was a trip to the ER due to a pounding headache. Apparently you shouldn't go to the same hospital more than a couple times because she didn't. We went to hospitals in our town, the next town over, a couple cities away...It was madness. What was in the syringe that brought her such joy? Then came the doctor visits. One doctor for this, another for that. Pill bottles of numerous pain relievers, depressions meds, nausea meds. She had a candy store of her very own. It seemed to only get worse over the years. One thing I never understood is how I can walk outside sleepy and get accused of public intoxication, yet she can drive under the influence of all these pills and the officer will drive her home! Explain that one.
         Mom's parents died pretty close together. My grandmother in 2001 and my grandfather in 2003. This time was very hard on us all. For some reason my mother took it harder than anyone. She was plastered at both funerals. She was so gone at my grandfather's that she doesn't even remember it. Come to find out, my step father bought the prescriptions for her on that day. I'm sorry but if you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem. And he was. He used to buy her pills not only from the pharmacies, but from friends who took the same things, just to keep her high so he could do his dirt. What love he must've had for us.
         Let me break down the things that this type of addiction brings on in your home. My mom becomes very violent with me, trying to hit me with close by objects. She always threatens to call the police on me for one reason or another. Sometimes she even does it. She becomes verbally abusive, telling me she wishes I had never been born or that she hates me. This is just the small things. She stumbles around sometimes falling and injuring herself. She threatens to hurt herself or me if I don't give her pills to her. She loaned me money to help out with my bills recently, now that she's getting high she's going to press charges on me for stealing it from her! This addiction she has is much stronger than whatever love she has left for me.
         I always have to be the responsible one. It seems our roles have reversed. I've battled this thing until I literally don't know where else to turn. Is there no help for families like mine? Do we really have to wait for our loved ones to die before someone opens their eyes and arms to embrace this serious and very real need for assistance?