Article by Ann Mervin | Owl Staff
Ann spends time with her brother during childhood, years before the struggles she would later face.
Imagine being four years old and seeing one of your parents falling asleep sitting up, cigarette in hand. You think, “What if the cigarette falls again, leaving yet another burn hole?” Will it be on one of your belongings again or will it fall on the couch and start a fire?
Imagine being four years old and having no control over what happens. Think about having no way of helping your father if he starts to fall over because he is 6’5 and 200 pounds while you are just a small child.
Imagine feeling the responsibility of something completely out of your control when you would much rather be playing with your Barbies.
That’s been a reality for many including myself. My parents were both drug addicts from the day I was born and long before. I lost both of them emotionally to addiction long before I lost either one physically. Every one of my siblings has also struggled at some point in their life with drug or alcohol addiction.
I grew up in Pennsylvania with my four older half-brothers on my mom’s side, one older half-sister on my dad’s side, and one older full sister. I lived with my sister and my parents had split custody of my four brothers, meaning they were only there some of the times. My half-sister lived in a different part of the state, so I didn’t see her often.
I was extremely close with my sister as we were not only the two girls of the house but also, she was closest to my age out of all my siblings. My relationship with my brothers was always changing; sometimes they were around often, and other times they were just some guys who occasionally gave me money and showed up for some holidays. I always enjoyed seeing my sister on my dad’s side; however, it was not often.
A moment of normalcy – Ann and her siblings take a trip to see The Wizard of Oz, amid ongoing challenges at home.
Some of my earliest memories, from around four years old, are my parents nodding off as previously described. This meant I was taking care of the people who should have been taking care of me.
In December of 2012, I celebrated what would be my last Christmas with my mother as she wouldn’t even make it to New Year’s. After Christmas my mother got sick; on December 30 while my sister and I were caring for her, she collapsed. This was my last memory with my mom.
Since my mom passed when I was so young, my memories with her are limited. Some of my favorites include coloring together, swimming as a family, and stealing her makeup until she found me behind the fish tank covered in mascara. Losing her hit the whole family extremely hard.
“Imagine feeling the responsibility of something completely out of your control when you would much rather be
playing with your Barbies.”
After losing my mom, my father and I moved into my grandmother’s house. It was quite an adjustment losing my mom, my sister, and my house all at once.
My brothers also did not take well to losing my mom. After her passing, they had a difficult time coping and faced ongoing challenges. I began seeing them less and less as time went on.
After the loss of my mom, my dad got clean from his addiction, and we began to form the relationship that became the rock of my life. We went on daddy-daughter dates, played video games way past my bedtime, and watched every single 76ers game together. However, nothing lasts forever.
Ann’s parents spending time in their backyard pool, a place that once held family routines before addiction reshaped their lives.
Sometime around 2017, when I was around ten years old, my father met a woman. I enjoyed having a woman around at first, that is until he fell in love with her. She encouraged him to fall back into his drug habit and in doing so he began seeing me less.
My father would constantly go out while leaving me and my grandmother home with little to no food. He would turn his phone off so I couldn’t keep bothering him and would be gone for hours or even days at a time. This continued for the next few years of my life.
On January 1, 2020, I came home from a sleepover and discovered many of my belongings had disappeared. The woman had spent the night and left with everything I had just gotten for Christmas along with everything I had previously owned. Along with this my artwork had been destroyed as well as photographs of my mother.
I called my aunt who lived in Maryland to pick me up and I stayed with her for the next two months with absolutely no contact with my father while he attended rehab.
Once I finally spoke to him again, he told me he had no idea what the woman had done and he would never speak to her again if I came home, so I did. He worked on staying clean for both him and I after that.
However, in 2022, he began secretly speaking to the same woman and relapsed on drugs, but I kept quiet as I really hoped it wasn’t true.
One of my older brothers was living with me and he also knew about my father’s secrets. This ended up bringing him and I closer as we both felt the betrayal since she had previously stolen from him as well.
My brother, however, was also using drugs during this time. On February 2, 2022, my father sat me down to have a serious talk, which I assumed was him apologizing for not returning from his date the night prior as this was a common occurrence. However, the conversation was to inform me that earlier that morning my brother had overdosed and did not make it.
The next day, I decided it was best to go to school rather than stay home and be upset all day. It was going well for me to be around my friends until I got called out of my eighth period biology class.
My guidance counselor walked me to his office where I was met with police officers who informed me that my father had overdosed and did not make it. I was told I could not go back home since both deaths happened in the house and my grandmother was determined unfit to care for me as she was too old. This meant I lost my father, my brother, and my house in less than 48 hours.
After this I moved in with a different one of my older brothers and his family who were all essentially strangers to me. I had a relationship with him when I was young, but he stopped coming around once my dad relapsed. His family consisted of him, his girlfriend, their two sons, and his stepdaughter.
Ann celebrates Thanksgiving with her brother, sister-in-law, nieces and nephews – the family who stepped in when she needed it most.
Moving forward I had to share a room with my brother’s stepdaughter who was four years younger than me. We had our difficult periods and both struggled with the new adjustment for a while, but eventually she became my best friend and a little sister to me. To this day, she is one of the most important people in my life.
I also got to experience living with my two young nephews and being their aunt. I absolutely loved taking care of them, playing with trucks and Legos, and taking them to the local park. I got to watch them learn to walk, begin school, and grow up.
This meant I lost my father, my brother, and my house in less
than 48 hours.
I got to finish high school in the same school with all my friends while simultaneously learning to live my new life with my new family. There were many challenges over the next few years as I struggled a lot with my mental health and adjusting to life, but I ultimately ended up stronger than ever.
I attended therapy every two weeks, started going to a gym, and focused on the relationships in my life, all of which helped my mental health tremendously.
Flowers raised high, Ann (left) shares a milestone with friends, marking a sense of normalcy after loss.
Once I graduated high school, I moved in with my family here in Maryland. I currently live with my aunt and uncle, my other aunt, and my grandmother who raised me as a child. Living with my grandma again and getting to take care of her in her old age is one of the best things to ever happen to me.
I have experienced many ups and downs throughout my mental health journey and will likely continue to, but I always remained true to myself. I try every day to remain positive and be kind to everyone as you never know their story.
I always remind myself that while my story may have shaped me into who I am today, it does not define me.
Ann stands beside her grandmother at graduation, commemorating how far she has come despite everything she has endured.
I am living proof that no matter what life may throw at you, it is possible to get through it. There are likely many people experiencing situations like mine right now. I believe it is important to share my story so others not only feel less alone but have hope that life can absolutely change for the better.
Going forward, if you only take one thing from my article let it be the following message: You do not have to live the life you are born into. You can make your life your own and change it for the better as long as you keep going no matter what.