It was the year 2000, a time when mobile phones were still a luxury, and the internet was a newfound haven of knowledge. But for me, it was much more than that—it was my escape, my sanctuary from the harsh realities of my home.

My mother, Annah, was a beautiful soul whose life had been shattered by the grip of alcoholism. It was a demon that demanded more of her with each passing day. Her warmth and nurturing presence had slowly but surely given way to the cold, distant shadow of her addiction.

As the years rolled on, my mother’s battle with alcohol grew more intense, and her presence at home was never felt. She would often vanish for days on end, leaving me alone in our modest house. My dad lived in another State. I called him but he seemed like he had his own set of problems. The silence that enveloped our home was heavy, only occasionally interrupted by the creaking of an opening door or the distant hum of a passing car. My mother suddenly showed up in the early hours of dawn, heavily intoxicated, screaming, demanding for the door to be opened.

My friends at school couldn’t comprehend the pain I carried with me. Id probably didn’t slept because of loud music or my mother just ranting stuff while intoxicated. They didn’t know what it was like to come home to an empty house, to sit at a dinner table set for two but only ever dine alone. But I had found my loneliness in the one place where the world seemed boundless—the internet.

My evenings were spent immersed in browsing but some how I was obsessed with Encyclopedia Encarta, a digital treasure trove of knowledge that seemed to stretch to infinity. The online world became my refuge, a place where I could escape the harsh reality of my home life. I marveled at the wonders of science, delved into the depths of history, and pondered the mysteries of the universe. I discovered a particular fascination with astronomy, losing myself in the stories of stars and galaxies that sparkled high above. I also started writing. I wrote a couple of novels. I was so excited about them.

In those quiet moments, I had an epiphany. I couldn’t change my mother’s choices or her addiction. I couldn’t compel her to stay home or to be the mother I so desperately yearned for. So, I made a choice of my own—to focus on my own growth, to cultivate hobbies and habits that would nurture my spirit.

I picked up a guitar and taught myself to play, pouring my heart and soul into each chord. Music became my confidant. I took to painting, creating vibrant canvases that expressed emotions I could never verbalize. And I started running, pounding the pavement at the break of dawn, every step a testament to my resilience.

But perhaps the most profound change of all was the shift in my perspective. I began to see my mother not as a villain, but as a victim of an unrelenting disease. I understood that her addiction had nothing to do with me, and slowly, I let go of my expectations, my anger, and my futile attempts to control something beyond my reach.

One brisk autumn evening, I sat by the window, strumming my guitar and gazing at the stars. It struck me that I had found my own peace. The silences at home were no longer stifling, and the loneliness had transformed into a comforting solitude. I had built a world within myself, one filled with knowledge, creativity, and self-acceptance.

I faced many tough times, but I didn’t give up. I found the strength inside me to overcome my problems and build a better life.

My mom is still struggling with her addiction, despite our efforts and therapy. She’s been sober for only a few months.

If you’re in a similar situation, remember to take care of yourself first. Focus on your future and what you want in life, not just for others but for yourself. Become strong you can make it.