Drug abuse is an issue of not only local concern, but homogeneously alarming on the national and international levels. While some may try to turn their heads and ignore the self destructive behavior others execute, I feel inclined to verbalize my apprehension for it. Drug abuse not only affects the users, but also the neighboring people who love them most.
Drug abuse affected me directly by stealing away the "dad" figure every adolescent male needs. When the high was on, my father was relaxed and blissful. I could ask him for whatever I wanted, but I didn't want to. I struggled to find the valor to do so because of the fear of asking for too much and leaving him with insufficient money to fund his addiction. While some may see this as a viable action against drug abuse, I dreaded those moments most. The man who fathered me became cold and irritable without his precious "skunk-smelling cigarettes."
Furthermore I resented speaking to him about normal teen troubles, because I never knew if he'd bring it up on a bad, weed-less day and perhaps become belligerent about the issue at hand. Not to be confused with his methods of parenting. He was a fine parent, always coming through when most needed; he paid the bills, supplied the food, wielded authority and set ground rules like a referee in a boxing match. However, he simply did not care much for subjects outside of his home. This meant no parent-teacher conferences, claiming "I know you're doing well, so why go?" and forgetting birthdays. If the phrase "time is money" speaks truth, then I wish he'd stop wasting his time on such short-lived pleasures and synonymously stop risking his future that is only contributing to the national crisis of debt and poverty.
By enduring this kind of lifestyle in extreme increments every day, for the last few months, I have felt unappreciated. This of course led to higher levels of stress, contributing to regular absence from early morning classes and lack of focus. Friendships dwindled and test scores fell short of perfect. As a perfectionist, I felt responsible and a spiral downward to the path of self destruction seemed inevitable.
Though life around this factor was not exactly what a normal teenager would call easy, I developed a skill to cope relatively well. I learned to be tolerant of people's nonsense and established within myself the strong foundation of becoming a better parent than my parents are, as I'm sure many young adults do at this time in their life. The difference between me and them is that they are looking to become a better parent because they want to indirectly hurt their parents, by showing how well their parenting compares. My view is dissimilar; I dream of becoming a better parent so that others (my children) won't have to feel the pain and void in their heart that I endured. I sought to stay away from drugs, knowing that if I would never want to be addicted, then there is no point in "trying."
These elements took time to develop, but at least I know that my experience won't have to be relived by my posterity. Drug abuse in my local area influenced my life in various ways, both negatively and positively. The supreme detail however is that although limiting me to a seemingly unbearable youth, I was molded into a better person.
Please leave constructive criticism. ANY feedback will be greatly appreciated. I think i have a verbose way of writing, please let me know if it detracts from the piece.
Drug abuse affected me directly by stealing away the "dad" figure every adolescent male needs. When the high was on, my father was relaxed and blissful. I could ask him for whatever I wanted, but I didn't want to. I struggled to find the valor to do so because of the fear of asking for too much and leaving him with insufficient money to fund his addiction. While some may see this as a viable action against drug abuse, I dreaded those moments most. The man who fathered me became cold and irritable without his precious "skunk-smelling cigarettes."
Furthermore I resented speaking to him about normal teen troubles, because I never knew if he'd bring it up on a bad, weed-less day and perhaps become belligerent about the issue at hand. Not to be confused with his methods of parenting. He was a fine parent, always coming through when most needed; he paid the bills, supplied the food, wielded authority and set ground rules like a referee in a boxing match. However, he simply did not care much for subjects outside of his home. This meant no parent-teacher conferences, claiming "I know you're doing well, so why go?" and forgetting birthdays. If the phrase "time is money" speaks truth, then I wish he'd stop wasting his time on such short-lived pleasures and synonymously stop risking his future that is only contributing to the national crisis of debt and poverty.
By enduring this kind of lifestyle in extreme increments every day, for the last few months, I have felt unappreciated. This of course led to higher levels of stress, contributing to regular absence from early morning classes and lack of focus. Friendships dwindled and test scores fell short of perfect. As a perfectionist, I felt responsible and a spiral downward to the path of self destruction seemed inevitable.
Though life around this factor was not exactly what a normal teenager would call easy, I developed a skill to cope relatively well. I learned to be tolerant of people's nonsense and established within myself the strong foundation of becoming a better parent than my parents are, as I'm sure many young adults do at this time in their life. The difference between me and them is that they are looking to become a better parent because they want to indirectly hurt their parents, by showing how well their parenting compares. My view is dissimilar; I dream of becoming a better parent so that others (my children) won't have to feel the pain and void in their heart that I endured. I sought to stay away from drugs, knowing that if I would never want to be addicted, then there is no point in "trying."
These elements took time to develop, but at least I know that my experience won't have to be relived by my posterity. Drug abuse in my local area influenced my life in various ways, both negatively and positively. The supreme detail however is that although limiting me to a seemingly unbearable youth, I was molded into a better person.
Please leave constructive criticism. ANY feedback will be greatly appreciated. I think i have a verbose way of writing, please let me know if it detracts from the piece.