1. Breana Tomicki
Jill Moses
English 101
9 October 2014
Everything Happens For A Reason
Waking up to red and blue lights pouring through my blinds at 3 am was a
typical night for me 5 years ago. At that point in my life, I questioned whether my
mother was going to be at my wedding? Was she going to meet her grandchildren?
As a 14-year-old girl, this was not something I should worries on a daily basis.
Growing up with an alcoholic mother, I would like to say had its ups and
downs, but it was mostly all downs. Having cops regularly at your door and DYFS
coming into your home, periodically each week, was not on my to do list as an 8th
grader. But it had to be done. Being apart of my mother’s recovery process was also
something I was not trilled about. Did she even want to get better? Should I try to
help? Would it make things worse? Here we go again, time after time, a few weeks
in rehab, and right back to the liquor store. This is normal right? Constantly telling
myself she was okay. Lying awake at night, wishing, hoping there was not a red cup
in her hand filled to the brim with Absolute vodka.
As a family, we had weekly meetings with DYFS workers, which I dreaded,
every Wednesday. “How is she? Is she drinking? Are you okay? What are you
feeling?” During these meeting each week, we would try and talk to my mother, to
see how she was doing with her recovery. The answers were never what I wanted
to hear. The words were either lies or versions of the truth. Sitting there, week

2. after week hearing lies pour out of my mother’s mouth. Listening to this made me
cringe. Was I supposed to call her out on her lies? Would that make her want to
drink more? Every single word that I wanted to say would not come out. I was
convinced I caused the problem. Convinced if I said or did something wrong I would
make things worse. Throughout the years I turned into a quiet young girl who was
scared to talk. All because of what? I was scared of my mother. Parents are
supposed to be there to support you and love you. Not mine. My father was never
around for the rough times, only there to attempt to pick up the pieces days later.
Throughout the years of my mother drinking, my father was never present.
When I called him to see where he was, there was no answer. My calls were sent
straight to voice mail. When I confronted him later about the issue, the same
answer, “I was on the train and did not have service.” Because of this, I was forced
to face this hard time by myself.
To get my mother back to being her old self, we attempted to have an
intervention. Did she even know she was hurting the people around her? Did she
know she had a problem?
“Breana, tell your mother how you feel.” I said nothing. Looking at my
mother, she had no expression on her face. Trying to connect with her was no
longer an option. Throwing statistics in her face made no difference either.
Finally the DYFS worker had something to say to make my mom to listen.
“Did you know I had a son?”
“Had a son? What happened to him?” Those were the first words my mother
said the whole meeting this Wednesday.

3. “His life was consumed by drugs. They were his way of life, his hobby, his
job, everything. Heroine, cocaine, you name the drug, it was in his blood stream at
some point in his 18 years of life.”
“He died at 18?” Something caught my mom’s attention.
“Yes 18 short years. His father, my ex husband, was an abusive man and my
son would do anything to escape the reality of his life. Would you like your baby girl
to end up like my son? I never thought my son had a problem, and when he came
home high I turned a blind eye to it because I was once his age. Never in a million
years did I realize he had a problem. When I finally found out the severity of the
issue, it was too late. If I had known, I would have done everything in my power to
help him. You need to understand that the things you do, the decisions you made
have a direct effect on your daughter. Talk to her, listen to her and ask her how she
is feelings.”
I turn to my mom and there were tears trickling down her face. Finally,
someone turned this woman’s emotions on. At this point in the meeting my mother
finally asked me how I felt, and what she could do to help me. Hearing that she did
not want to hurt me anymore meant the world to me. How was I supposed to be
happy though?
“Do you know how many times you have said you were fine? I have had to
listen to you tell me you will never drink again multiple times. How am I supposed
to believe you? I know professionals say alcoholism is a disease, and you are going
to relapse, but how many relapses are you going to have? How many times are you

4. going to destroy your family? Licensed therapists have tried to help you and they
failed, I am just your daughter. I thought I could help you, but I guess I am wrong.”
Tapping into her inner emotions was gold. She finally could see day by day
she was tearing her family apart. My mom finally realized that she was hurting her
young girl. I was just about to start high school; a very exciting point in my life and
it was not exciting what so ever.
After this meeting, many things changed for the better and for the most part
life was peaceful. I was not able to see or talk to my mother for 8 weeks after this
meeting because she was getting help. During those long weeks, having to grow up
on my own was difficult. My father finally came back into my life, but it was as if he
had to relearn how to raise a teenager. Every day we would talk and he would
discover a new quark about me or another food I hated. In the back of my mind I
would still think about my mother, worrying and hoping things were going okay.
My father was the biggest and best support system during this time. He would list
the reasons why she drank, and explained that it was not either of our faults.
Physiologically she had a problem, it was in her DNA. Believing my father was not
easy, but I knew he was right. At this point in my life I am thankful I have gone
through some difficult times, because it has taught me a lot about myself. Being
forced to grow up at a young age was an amazing experience because I am now able
to handle anything thrown at me. All I have to say is I am a firm believer in that
everything happens for a reason. Weather a good or bad experience, it teaches you
something remarkable.