Hi, I’m The Truth Mommy!! I’m trying to get out there and be known for giving , “the truth about momming”, and everything else I know or can tell you. I’m currently working on/towards a book.. I’m Here to journal my good days and bad days and everything in between. Hey, don’t blame me if you don’t like it, I’m just telling it like it is.
Telling it like it is, regardless of judgement. I am a recovering addict. My recovery Date is November 1- 2015. I didn’t do it without help, support, medical support, motivation, tears, sweat, pain, family support, and my amazing husband.
For years I thought I had it under control, and could get or just stay better (whether ‘better’ meant my sobriety, or my mental health depended on the time) for, my kids. Always trying to fight, for my kids. Doing everything I could, everything I was supposed to do, to bring my family home. Get better for them all, never for myself. It never seemed to be enough, but that wasn’t the case- the case was, I just wasn’t afraid enough, it wasn’t real enough, I didn’t care about me, or what happened to me anymore. No one else did, why should I? The 2 men in my life (baby daddies if you will), that were supposed to be a part of my support system, part of my family, had completely destroyed my self esteem. They both took advantage of my vulnerability, they fed off of it. I would move mountains for both of them, I’d jump when they said jump. HELL They had my children, what was I supposed to do?? That my friends, is a story for a different post. Not today Satan. This post is about ME. I can’t won’t distract myself with that type of pain, going back to that will ruin more than my entire day. I live with so many resentments. I cannot even begin.

So, here is where this story really begins, this is going to lead me to where I am today. The day I woke up, totally Naked, alone, head hanging over one corner of my bed, not even aware of the date or time, SO confused, my house completely ransacked, all of my hidden belongings, including my rent money, drugs, and jewelry were GONE. My dresser COVERED in confectionery sugar.
That was on Halloween, in 2015. Halloween is supposed to be a fun day, a special day, a day for trick or treating, dressing up silly, plowing candy, and it just so happens that it is one of my babies Birthday’s, 10/31. That was the day I knew I had had enough, I had to stop. I had to live. I was alive, and I had NO idea how. Eventually, that same day, I put the pieces together, looking through my phone, my laptop ( at the time my life line), making phone calls, frantically searching my house, wracking my brain. I remembered exactly what happened. I know exactly what happened. All I can say on here, with honesty, is that MY ANGEL was with me. He must have been because I was literally left in my apartment to die. People had been with me, people had used with me, and those same exact people had robbed me, and then left me. Those people, I grew up with. Those people, 1 of them, I had saved before with narcan. And they left me in my bed, thinking I was DEAD… to die. They were the ones who were always afraid and would run. At least 1 of them had been there for all 5 ODS that I had saved at my house. I never let or left anyone to die. F$#@ YOU for that. Later one that day, I got myself together, got myself “right”, and then made a bunch of important phone calls. I was retracing the steps I had taken the last time. The time I had 2 and a half fucking years of sobriety. The time I could say with what I thought to be my full honesty, I do not know how I EVER did that, I could NEVER EVER do it again. I could’ve sworn that I was afraid enough to never go back. That I had lost enough, to never want to go back. The 2.5 years had only come to an abrupt end earlier that year, I want to say May, is when I relapsed, but that wouldn’t be the full truth. I had relapsed long before I began using that way again. This time though, I was DONE. So here I am, more than 5 years sober. I won’t say I am cured, I will say, I wanted to live and be there for my children, and I AM.

I have more stories to tell than you could imagine. I’ve been to Prison, (not jail), multiple times, for petty things like probation violations etc. I’ll never forget how scared I was in the back of that van the very first time. My first 30 days. I never could have imaged how many more times I’d be in that same situation again, or that each stay would become longer and longer, and take more and more from me and my family. I had a baby in jail, and didn’t get to see my baby until a few months later. Can you imagine that? I held that baby for 2 days, no one was going to take that time from me, no matter how hard they tried. I am only human, not a monster. Humans should never treat others the way I was treated. Shackled to a bed being scorned and threatened for breast feeding my baby? It was inhumane.

If you’ve come this far, before you form any negative opinion of me personally, if that’s where your thoughts are, keep reading first, and you may just see things from a perspective you might think you’d never see, or even want to understand.

MIND YOU this; the day I was officially released , sometime in late November, My PO wanted me to go back to prison, she fought tooth and nail for me to finish up another 6 month bid, for NOTHING. Once my lawyer presented the LOADS and LOADS of paperwork she had accumulated and put together for my case; all of my negative tests, the meconium sample, and the inaccuracy proven of the quick cups they used, (the ONLY one that picked up a food grade of positive), once she finished her statement, The Judge, a different one from who sent me there, an understanding man with kind eyes, pretty much told my PO off, looked over to me, and with SUCH sincerity, apologized to me. he said I NEVER should have been forced to have my BABY in prison, and told my PO that holding me was completely inappropriate, and unnecessary , as I had IMMEDIATLY , willingly PAID FOR & took hair follicle test, multiple urine’s at multiple labs, and even the hospital records that showed my baby and I tested positive for NOTHING!!!!! OH AND!! This is great, my due date was 11/1/13, my one and only fail was on 10/12/13, I was sent back 10/18/13, ANDDD MY COURT DATE WAS 10/31/13 . So, yes, as you can probably imagine, at midnight on 10/31, I laid on my bottom bunk in my cell, praying to GOD to PLEASE not let me have this baby right then and there, PLEASE just get me to the courthouse tomorrow. 7 years later and I haven’t spoken of this, but I remember it all SO clearly right now, like it was MUCH more recently than that. I remember envisioning what would happen if I was in front of the judge and dramatically went into labor, or in the patty wagon on the long ride there. I was so afraid. I felt pain. Pain I did not remember, but yet I knew what was happening. So I started watching as the guards did their rounds… every 15 minutes. My contractions were 15 minutes apart. At 12:45, I gave in, while a C.O was rounding, I stood at my cell door’s tiny window waiting. When the flashlight hit my eyes, I said… ” ‘I’m in labor” , he replied, ” Are you pregnant?”, than, ” Are you sure its labor?”.

I spent 6 months in prison, pregnant. It was not my first rodeo BUT pregnant?? I went in February 23rd, and on April 20th, I was told I was pregnant. So that was fun.

After wrapping up those 6 months, I was released directly from there July 1, was out and happy , with a DCF worker and PO up my butt, I was doing everything right, everything they told me to do, I did it and more. Including calling a number for a color, ( pink), which was called for 2 random urine’s a week, AA/NA meetings, working on putting my family back together,and Let me just say – WE WERE KICKING ASS!! Hell we were on the road to getting our family back., AND add a 3rd addition. I’d been sober for 10 months, called my color super late one day as I was laying in bed stuffing my face with caramel apples and breakfast sandwiches. We had no car, but borrowed one, I did my thing, went to walk away and BAM I fail the quick cup. I seriously thought my PO was JOKING because we were just talking about how AMAZING everything was going!!

The following days and weeks were HORRIFIC. I was losing my mind. How the FUCK could this happen? How the FUCK did I fail this one urine? I went to the hospital and gave a supervised urine in the ER, and another an hour later at the lab. I even offered a hair follicle test in which my PO said I’d have to wait at least 7 days. So i did JUST that!! 8 days later, I went and paid $85 for a full panel hair follicle test. The results didn’t come in until I was gone, but it was ONLY the quick cup I failed. Anyways, after being tortured,tormented, and followed, by my PO with police, DCF, & just trying to prove myself innocent, for 2 weeks, I am sent back to prison, after I did everything possible to prove my innocence.

Listen, I’ve been pregnant multiple times, and not ONCE did I EVER use drugs while pregnant. NEVER. However, at my Wednesday night meeting, the night before that power monster of a day ,(10/12), I had devoured 3 everything bagels , and had 1 on the ride to do my urine. BRO, I WAS 8.5 MONTHS PREGNANT and HUNGRYYY!!! NOW LISTEN!! I WOULD NEVER EVER HAVE THOUGHT THAT what happened would happen!! I have always called it a myth, ALWAYS called bullshit on it.
It was actually the lab tech that did my hair follicle test who offered this information to me. Poppy seeds. Yep mmmhmm I KNOW!!

My PO wouldn’t ever believe that, she didn’t. My counselor, my doctor and my pysche , all came up with that same answer, with no persuasion or even HINTS…… Poppy seeds. Food Grade levels can show up on lab tests, they are very VERY small numbers because the food has minute traces, a quick cup can pick up the food grade levels, HOWEVER, it can NOT decipher the actual level/ amount ingested.

TELL ME, how could that whole situation NOT HAVE fucked me up mentally??
How could it not have destroyed me and made me and angry, violent, mean person?

How am I not one big walking ball of HATRED?


Well, it did for a while, and I was for a bit. SO that was that.

Now, here I am today, with my family..
“Stronger than ever, Beating all the odds that have been against me. ” As I suppose they say. There are so many times I dwell on my past, and my present. I always wonder…

Yes, there was a time where I was a bit of a shitbag, & I was living a bad life… making bad choices.
Yes I made the decision to use solely on my own at 19– I chose the places I went to and the people I hung out with. I made the decisions that I made on my own. I promise though, I never knew they would lead me to where I’ve been, and what I’ve gone though.
I never knew I would become so addicted. I never knew that drugs would eventually destroy my life, yet leave me here to suffer.
A lot of my most important friends and relationships, are dead. I’ve said goodbye to FAR too many people I love.

So theres that story. I’m ready to tell it and I want it to be heard, and known about. So share it. Tell me your thoughts. Does my story sound familiar, or are you reading this is complete awe, because you thought this sort of thing only happens on Netflix, HBO, only on TV.
A lot of people may blame me, call me a terrible person, shame shame shame – but today,
I can let that shit roll right off my shoulders. You could not walk a mile in my shoes at my age, and I probably couldn’t walk a mile in yours either.

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Published by The Truth Mommy Blog

Hey there! I'm the Truth Mommy, I'm a 31 year old entrepreneurial, mother of 4 , as well as a recovering addict. I'm here to have fun, learn, grow & to tell the truth, the whole truth & nothing but the truth. I've been told by many people that I need to start a blog, write a book, or even just a journal that could one day be published. Throughout COVID, I began unknowingly building a business from the ground up, its called " For Cups Sakes". I make personalized Tshirts, cups, tumblrs, decals, etc. It been tough, and I didn't think this would be a great time to start blogging, but then I realized, it could possibly be the best time to start!! I want to show people real life stuff. I want to tell daily events in my eyes. I want interaction, I want to know my people, people with the same interests and stories. Lets hang out, chat, advise, and just "vibe" as the kids say now. Lets share our stories and watch as we grow. Let's be real, like, really real, not FB real.

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