Addiction - Who Me?

My biological mother was married on the Rez (reserve) at the age of 14. While she was in Canada, she had three kids. I was the youngest. Apparently, she ran down to the U.S. where she married again and had more kids. She was on the run from my ½ brother's dad, because she got pregnant with me while he was in jail. He promised to kill her when he got out. That's why she left us, and one of my ½ brothers blamed me for it for years.

I met my two ½ brothers when I was 19 years old. They weren't as fortunate as I was; they lived in a string of foster homes, some of which were abusive, from what I gather; at least that's what I heard every time we were out drinking in Chilliwack. All the horror stories used to come out when we were drunk. What happened to us growing up, what we did when we were in our other homes, how brave we were, et cetera.

I used to say a drunk will always tell the truth when he's drinking, and when he sobers up the story changes. A drug user, though, will lie through their teeth and straight-faced too - anything for their next fix. Mind you, when I was drinking, I could make up the most bizarre stories, and I'd sound so real telling them I'd almost believe them myself; especially when I needed a place to stay or more dope or just another drink. You became a good con when you lived a life with drugs and alcohol.

It seemed like the only thing I lived for back then.