Living with drug addicts: 'I still remember when plainclothes officers raided'
YOUR LIFE: Every human being has a story to tell. In this series, Your Life features personal accounts by Singaporeans detailing their respective trials in life and their courage to face them.
I still remember the day plainclothes narcotics officers raided our rental house and took my parents away. I was only six, my siblings a few years younger, and all we could do was scream and cry as we watched our mother and father get locked up for drug abuse.
With our relatives unable to take care of us, we spent the formative years of our lives trapped in the rigid confines of a children’s home. I hung with bad company, shoplifted, smoked, and wondered if my parents would ever come back.
Seven years later, my dad did. He sought us out after his release from prison, fought for our custody, and took us home. My mother, who was released four years earlier, never appeared. It took me ten more years to track down her whereabouts, and even longer for my siblings to forgive her.
I decided then that when I had kids, I would give them everything I had.
The decision to get a diploma came to me when I was pregnant with my third child in 2015, and was working as the family’s sole breadwinner. My husband didn’t have a stable job, and my salary then wasn’t nearly enough to feed my growing family and pay the rent for our 2-room flat. So I took night classes twice a week, worked as a shipping assistant in the day, and thought, “If I don’t do this, what kind of life will my children lead?”
It was tiring, but it worked, and I thought that would be the worst of it.
There may have been signs of what was to come. My husband had a history of drug consumption, but he was clean – or so I thought. I told him I’d leave him if he reverted, but I failed to notice the pallor of his cheeks or the way he always seemed so tired.
The signs culminated into one big revelation when I found a packet of meth by our toilet sink in October 2015, a month after I was retrenched and a few days before I was due to give birth. I was still studying for my diploma while working a contract job in Tuas.
“He has always been taking drugs,” said his friends. “We couldn’t tell you, but we always knew.” Maybe I wanted to trust him. Maybe I had not wanted to accept the fact that my hard-earned money could be feeding a drug addiction – the same kind that upended my childhood. History was going to repeat itself, and I couldn’t let that happen to my children.
I gave birth and told him I wanted a divorce, but he answered with his fists that left blooming marks on my face and body. He tried to run away with the children, dragging my three-year-old daughter till she had bruises on her back. I found out later that he would beat my son and make sure he never told a soul.
I filed a protection order along with a divorce. In the first quarter of 2016, I completed my diploma, struggled to land a stable job as a logistics assistant, and scrimped and saved like our lives depended on it, because it did.
It wasn’t easy; I’m still battling for the custody of my children. Without them there would be no valid reason for getting back up, time and time again. Giving them a normal childhood, bringing them up right – these things will always hold the utmost importance in my life. And I’ll keep fighting for the life they deserve.
Interviewed by Rachel Oh.
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