torture

A friend used the word torture to describe how I am letting my girls mental illness affect my life. It is true, so very true.

The torture starts when my alarm goes off. Did she hurt herself overnight? Is she dead or alive in her room? Do I go check or do I check to see the last time she was active on Facebook Messenger? I check her social media accounts that I can see and scan her posts. Is she depressed? Is she happy? Is she fighting with drippy? Does she hate me?

The torture continues at work. When the radio is keyed up and the dispatcher sends officers to a house because someone is suicidal, or someone just found a loved one dead, or someone is having a mental crisis. It all reminds me of my girl and what her illness has created in my life. I continue to check her social media throughout the day for hints of what my evening will bring. I wait for the cameras we installed to notify me that the dogs have been left out. That means she is alive and actually out of bed. Or the driveway camera captures her leaving. Where is she going? Who is she going to see? Will she come back? Why doesn’t she tell me where she is going? Would she even tell me the truth?

On the drive home the torture continues. What will I find when I get home? Will she be in her room? Will she be dead or alive in her room? Will there be dog pee on the floor because she couldn’t get out of her room to let them out? Will there be dirty dishes piled in the sink that she finally got out of her room? Will she be in a decent mood? Will I have to walk on egg shells? Why don’t I want to be in my own home with her there? Why don’t I have a save place? Will she show her face to eat dinner? Did she eat at all today? Did she drink anything today? Did she take her meds? I can’t ask her because it might set her off.

Late evening/overnight is much of the same torture. She says she is leaving to go to a friends house. Is she? Does she go to drippy? Will she crash because she is upset or high? Will she come home? I wait for the cameras to notify me that she pulled into the driveway. I wait and listen for her to come up the stairs and go into her room. I fall into a restless sleep.

The torture continues when my alarm goes off.

The stress makes me itchy. My hands itch, my face and head itch. I talked to my family doc. There is no physical reason for the itching. I feed my stress, which creates additional stress. I am not enjoying my life. I have wonderful friends who I love dearly. I am lucky to be sharing my life with my soulmate and I love him. I have two other kids who I think feel sorry for me and I see their relationships with my girl changing. I can’t blame them for that. They get caught in the wake of her illness. I have the most beautiful granddaughter. She brings me happiness. Her innocence, her laughter, her unconditional love. But I know I could give her more of me if things were different. I will soon have a grandson. I can’t wait to meet him and snuggle him. It will be another milestone in my life. But will it be overshadowed by my girl? Why do I have to worry that something will create friction during a time that should be full of love and happiness.

How do I stop the torture?

why

The last month has been challenging, to say the least. If I remember correctly, somewhere in my last post I mentioned a shoulder injury and that my girl had been diagnosed with bi-polar as well as BPD. I am going to do my best to to stick to a timeline of recent events, but I make no promises.

Late July, I had an appointment with a surgeon to review an MRI on my shoulder. I was told I had two different rotator cuff injuries and would need surgery as soon as possible. Surgery was scheduled for Monday, August 3rd, which gave me about five days to get my shit together before my dominant arm would be in a sling for six or more weeks. There was lots of cooking and freezing, cleaning, washing – all the stuff I felt had to be taken care of.

The Friday before surgery my girl was at work. She was supposed to be working 12PM-8PM. I remember she sent me lots of messages that day complaining about the job and how much she hated it, etc. I had honestly encouraged her to quit numerous times. My reasons being: 1) she was working at this job because drippy dick thought this is where she should work and I want her as far away from his control as possible 2) her mental status was not stable and the added pressure of the job was creating issues that she didn’t need. Anyway, she ended up coming home early. As soon as she came in the house I could tell she was upset. We actually sat and talked for probably close to an hour. She was upset about her relationship with drippy. She told me that she is scared of him. He has made threats towards her and our family if she left him. She admitted he controls her life and decisions. She also said he works at the same store she works at. This was NEVER mentioned before. He isn’t there every time she works because he is a “manager” and goes to various places. He does not support her efforts to try and better herself through therapy and medication. He even told her if she leaves him she owes him money for the food, gas, gifts and things he did for her during the relationship. Oh, and she also would owe him money for his legal costs, since his arrest for Terroristic Threats was all her fault. I did my best to gently explain that fear isn’t love, control isn’t love. I used as many examples as I could and felt like I had finally crossed the finish line. She knew she had to end it, she knew she would be supported by her family and if need be she could get a Protection From Abuse Order to keep him away. I told her I would be home for at least a month with her and it would be okay. She could do this. She can live without him. Her life would be better without him.

Monday, August 3rd, I had my surgery. It wasn’t/isn’t fun. Right arm is in a sling 24/7, except when I shower. I have to sleep in a recliner because it hurts to lay in a bed. I have one more week of the immobilizer sling (a sling that has a waist band to prevent the arm from being lifted away from your body), then two weeks of a regular sling and after that I can start therapy. I returned to work on Monday, August 31st. It was too soon. I am lucky to have disability insurance where I work, but it pays less than half of my actual salary. Let’s be honest. In this crazy world where prices of groceries, gas, basically all necessities are sky high – half my usual salary started to take it’s toll on the back account. So, I’m back to work in an office with one arm and it hurts.

Let’s now fast-forward, one week after surgery. At some point during this week I noticed a very fresh hickey on my girls neck. This meant she lied to us, again, about being with a friends and was with drippy. Drippy just loves to put his mark on her. It’s like a big fuck you to anyone who truly cares about my girl. It disgusts me. I asked my girl about it and got the silent treatment. I started noticing more and more irritability in my girl, more unstable behavior and actions. I talked to her about it. She was put on new meds when the bi-polar diagnosis was made and she felt the meds were making her worse and she felt extremely suicidal. She was very proactive in calling her psychiatrist and talking to him about it. She even made an appointment to go see him. He actually increased the frequency of the meds and asked her to give it another few weeks to work.

Two weeks after surgery – I’m going stir crazy being in the house, confined in a sling. I make plans with a couple to hang at their house on Friday night. Me & hubby are there, my girl is working a 12PM-8PM shift and will be stopping at their house after work. Around 6PM I get a call from my girl. She is crying. She said she is done, she can’t work there anymore and drippy just broke up with her. I try to convince her to stay there and we will get her, she said she needs to get away from him and she will drive to our friends house. She gets there and we talk and talk and talk. I am fortunate to have this friend. She has, unfortunately, been through a similar situation in a past relationship. She talked to my girl about the PFA, made a list of the good and bad parts of the relationship with drippy and just made sure my girl knew she wasn’t alone and it wasn’t her fault and she could get through this. We talk about the possibility of getting an emergency PFA. Because of my employment, I am all to familiar with the process and start making calls to put things in motion. After my girl is calmed down as much as possible, we leave our friends and go home. It’s decided we will talk about the PFA and other issues the next day.

The next day, Saturday. My girl decides she doesn’t want to do the emergency PFA and we will wait until Monday morning and file for a PFA at the courthouse. No one will be shocked to know when Monday comes she decides she doesn’t want to do it. She tells me she hasn’t heard from drippy at all and she has him blocked in every way possible.

The following week or last week. My girl was sad, but seemed to be kinda okay. She was supposedly with friends almost every evening. And then on Friday afternoon I saw the hickey. And of course when I called her out about it, it’s turned around on me. I don’t understand, I don’t get it, she has a mental illness, she is fucked up. The past week has been very hard for me and I try not to make it about me, I swear I don’t. I started back to work on Monday, and I hate being at work. I have been the recipient of my girls anger and hatred and resentment and everything for the past month. I have been lied to and deceived. I have been hurt.

Last night. Got home from work and could immediately tell my girl was in a downward spiral. We went to a local restaurant for a quick bite. We being me, my husband, my girl and a very dear friend who has seen the bad side of my girls illness. We order, my girl doesn’t order any food. My girl typically always drives herself when we go somewhere so she can leave if she feels overwhelmed. While we are sitting at the restaurant I can just feel my girl falling into her black hole. I try to get her to talk and she just gets teary eyed. She leaves, promising me that she will get food for herself at some point. Oh, I should have probably mentioned this earlier, but over the last month my girl rarely eats. She may eat every two days. I have to watch her and what she eats. She tries to eat and her mind/body fight her. She will get a few bites in and the nauseous feeling hits. Anyway, after we are finished we head home. My girl is sitting outside and we sit with her. Conversation starts and it’s not a good conversation. I lost count how many times she told us she doesn’t want to be alive, she doesn’t want to wake up anymore. She is tired of fighting and of everything. At one point my girl and I go inside and we continue to talk, like real feeling talk. I am trying desperately to get her to agree to finding more help, going in-patient somewhere. I felt raw and exhausted as we were talking. And then my husband comes inside and asks my girl why drippy is on a motorcycle in front of our house. My reaction was stunned silence. I had no reaction except to walk away from everyone. I went upstairs to my bedroom, but I couldn’t believe what I had heard and had to see it for myself. I walked out the front door and there he was on his new motorcycle. He stared me down. So many words were waiting to pour out of me. But I didn’t do it. I didn’t say anything. I turned around and went back inside leaving my husband and dear friend to watch over my girl. At some point my girl and drippy decided to go for a walk around our development. I went back to my room and crawled into bed and cried. After a short time my husband came into the room. I heard him rustling around and knew what he was doing. He was getting his gun. Drippy has a few guns, illegally of course, and has threatened our family. No, my husband didn’t go outside waving it around or threatening anyone. It was a precaution. But I couldn’t stand it. I went back outside and told my husband I couldn’t lose him because of something stupid drippy did. It was enough that I was going to lose my girl, I couldn’t lose them both. We decided enough was enough. We closed/locked up the house while my girl and drippy were on their walk. My girl knows how to get in the house if she decided to and she did come in about an hour later.

I don’t know when the last time I cried myself to sleep was, but I did last night. I am beyond drained and exhausted. I have nothing in me to give anymore. I can’t save my girl. I can’t make her want to live. I can’t keep taking on the weight of her illness, as well as all the other family drama. Some of the family have seen the ugly side of my girls illness, some haven’t. Until you see it and experience it first hand, you can’t understand it. It’s ugly and cruel. I need help in a way I have never felt I needed help before. Help deciding what to do from this point forward. Today is therapy day for my girl. I have no clue if she will go. She skipped her group therapy two weeks in a row, but did individual therapy. It’s just not enough. If I commit her based on her comments, she will play the system and be out within 3 days. How do I figure out how much guilt I can live with? If I kick her out and she kills herself, will I really be able to not blame myself? If I kick her out and she gets beat again, will I be okay with that?

I have nothing left. When I am home and my girl is home I don’t want to be there and I hate that. When my girl isn’t home, I feel I need to stay home because I don’t know what might happen. I am lost in a never ending cycle.

Where do I turn, what do I do? Is my girl alive right now? What will I find when I go home from work? Did she decide she can’t do it anymore? Every fucking minute of every fucking day these are the questions that loop in my brain. It never stops.

I don’t know

I just don’t know anymore. I don’t want to stress anymore. I don’t want to worry anymore. I don’t want to care anymore. I just don’t want to anymore.

My girl went to her therapy yesterday. It was the first in-person session with her therapist since the virus. She also had her first group therapy. I will admit I was very worried that she would not go. I will also admit I was very scared that if she did not go, I would have to do something about it. I’m not sure what, but something would have had to happen. While my logical brain tells me it’s time for her to leave, my emotional mom mind tells me that is the worst possible thing at this point. And there really is no in-between, at least as I see it.

Back to the therapy. We, me and my husband, were sitting outside when our girl got home. It was later in the evening and she was hungry so she went in the house to get some food. She came back out and I began asking about how things went. It is a very slow process to get her to talk at times and I know I’m not always getting “the full story” so to speak. She didn’t seem overly thrilled about either the individual or the group therapy. She told me she promised her therapist she would commit to three months of the individual/group therapy. She promised not to go ghost. One thing that seemed to especially annoy her about the group part, is that the participants are not allowed to engage in any personal contact. She said it could create drama in the group and what if two people in the group are in crisis mode at the same? I won’t pretend to completely understand all of it. I get that they don’t want or need additional drama in a therapy setting. I don’t completely understand not being able to talk with someone that has been in the group therapy for support. But I’m not a therapist, so what do I know.

As we were talking drippy came up in conversation many times; many, many, many times. The short version is she wants us (mom & dad) to try again to have some type of relationship with drippy. According to my girl, drippy also wants this. Now, she also said she knows that he is not “ready” to try again at this point. I wish I could have recorded the conversation so I could go back and replay what was said. There was no fighting or arguing. I have said before that I refuse to do that with her, but she did not get mean, nasty and she didn’t shut down. Conversation went from therapy to drippy, back to therapy, to life in general.

My girl has a thought in her mind that since she is now 20 she should be at a different point in life. She should be independent, not relying on mom & dad for everything, have money for a car and an apartment and living expenses. I talked again about looking into in-patient places. Like actually look at them, not just talk about them. She gave the typical reasons why she didn’t think she wanted to do that. Family and missing the babies that we have been blessed with, leaving therapy and still having nothing because she can’t work and make money (still not sure where this money thing is coming from – but I have my ideas). I countered each reason the best why I could. I just really want her to consider it.

The conversations that dealt with drippy were the hardest. She wants our approval to be with him, she wants him to be included, she wants to talk about him with us. I don’t know how to deal with that. HE BEAT HER. She defends him and she admitted she knows she does. She said we only know the bad about him and their relationship because that is all she has shared. She wants to talk to us about the good parts, how he treats her (?), how he is what she needs right now and she wants him in her life. She reiterated these thoughts and feelings quite a few times and I don’t know what the fuck to do about it. Right now drippy is holding the trump card, and it’s a red ace of hearts – he has my girls heart whether we like it or not. I don’t mean to make it sound like this is a game and my girl is the prize. It’s just the best way I can explain a really shitty situation. I am scared what this will mean for the future. I am scared choices will have to be made and none of the choices are good. I am scared that the immediate family will pull away from her, more than they already are.

And this is why I just don’t know anymore.

Let’s play a game…

Everyone likes games, right? Play the what if game with me. It’s a game my mind likes to play at 2AM when I need sleep. A game that I play as I cry in the shower. A game that makes my heart race and my blood pressure rise. A game that I play everyday, whether I want to or not.

What if – my girl tells me she’s going to point A (a friends) but really goes to point D (drippy dick)? And I have no idea where she is or how to help her if she gets in trouble.

What if – I tell my girl that I feel very little joy in my life, and her disorder is to blame?

What if – I tell my girl I can’t stand being in the house with her?

What if – I tell my girl I feel I am walking on eggshells all the time?

What if – I tell my girl I want my life back?

What if – I tell my girl I’m allowed to feel happy, sometimes?

What if – I tell my girl that my world has to stop revolving around her?

What if – I tell my girl I am becoming sad and depressed, too?

What if – I tell my girl I am not looking forward to a week vacation with her along?

What if – my girl keeps lying?

What if – my girl never knows happiness in her life?

What if – the drug of choice gets stronger and scarier?

What if – I tell my girl she has to decide if she is living here or with drippy?

What if – my girl decides to live with drippy and gets beat, again?

What if – my girl doesn’t go to therapy tomorrow (for the third time in a row)?

What if – my girl continues to cut her arms and now her thighs?

What if – one of those cuts hits just the right spot?

What if – things never change?

What if – I finally unload all this on my girl and all my feelings and thoughts come pouring out of my mouth and I can’t stop them?

What if – my honesty pushes my girl over the edge?

What if – my girl can’t handle my truth?

What if – those are the last words I ever get to say to my girl?

What if, what if, what if, what if?

What if is a fucked up game to play.

Reality

This is my daily reality. My beautiful girl child has Borderline Personality Disorder. This is what it looks like.

Self harm and this was a mild one

It’s 2020. People dealing with mental health issues are not getting the proper help. I can’t help my own child. It is devastating. It is sad. It is scary.

deja vu

It’s here again, the cycle. My girls never ending cycle of ups and downs, love and hate, happy and sad, but never safe.

Last week, drippy dick had a court appearance of some kind for the charges that were filed against him. As a reminder, after drippy beat my daughter he decided to drive her home out of the kindness of his heart. On the way they continued to verbally fight with each other and he stopped at a Burger King and told her to get out of his car. She got her shit out of the car and went into the restaurant. He ends up threatening the manager and stated something to the effect that he had a gun and is going to come back and shoot the place up. Threats continue to the manager and my girl, and she gets back in his car to stop the scene. Drippy was charged with Terroristic Threats, a felony 3 and Harassment, a misdemeanor 2. COVID-19 slowed everything court related until last week.

Last Tuesday my girl sent me a message that she had to go to court on Wednesday. I was confused because she was not subpoenaed. She said she had to be there to support him. Right.

She didn’t come home until Thursday evening and was very quiet. I knew questioning her would set her off so I decided to text her….I am the green box and please excuse the mistakes, I was not in the best frame of mind.

So, basically she is going to go and support the person who beat her prior to this incident. Will she be called to testify? I have no clue. Will she lie if she is called? Yes.

She has now missed two therapy appointments in a row. For some reason the missed appointment calls come to my cell phone. The appointments (which are still being handled over the phone) are scheduled for every Wednesday. I asked her the last two weeks how the appointments went and she said fine. Here comes the cycle.

Today, just about an hour ago, I am at work and I get a Facebook message…..I am pink, my girl has her face…

I leave work, drive home not knowing what will be waiting for me. He has access to her facebook messenger, again. Is it for real? Is he being an asshole? I have no way of knowing. My mind is crazy with thoughts of what I will find when I get home, will she be willing to get help this time, so many thoughts. She is in her room, tear stained face. She tells me she is fine. I ask to see her arms, she won’t show me. I ask what’s going on. She answers nothing. I ask again about her arms. She won’t show me. This back and forth goes on for about 10 minutes. She tells me to go back to work. She just stares at her laptop screen and pretends she is watching Netflix. I eventually walk out.

I am constantly worried. I worry constantly. I stress constantly. I think I can handle it. I think I can handle everything. I think I can be Wonder Woman. I pacify myself with food. Food makes it better. Food fixes everything. Food takes the pain away. I harm myself with food, my girl harms herself with razors and scissors.

There will be another bomb exploding soon. The bombs are coming closer together. Her bombs create craters that I am constantly stuck in. She’s fine, I’m fine, everything is fine.

control

Monday morning I got a call from my girl. She was in crisis mode. She didn’t want to live. She couldn’t take the mental pain of the last few days and she knew she needed help or she wouldn’t make it.

We took her to the same facility where she checked herself into almost a year ago. She went through the assessment and was deemed worthy of being a patient.

My girl called me a few times on Monday, but she also called drippy. Drippy told her he was at the courthouse for the charges filed against him and told her a few lies about the charges and what would be happening. He also blamed her for him having to now hire an attorney to help him fight the charges. I was not happy that she called him. The person who physically abused her and choked her. She asked me about the things he said and I cleared up what I could. I am familiar with the criminal justice system and most of what he told her were lies.

I didn’t hear from her at all on Tuesday during the day. This was very odd to me. Previously, she called me four or five times a day. By 7PM Tuesday evening I called the facility and spoke to her. She said she was busy all day and the phones were tied up, but she was doing alright. Not great, but alright. I accepted that. I was glad she was doing well enough and didn’t feel the need to call me as much.

This morning (Wednesday), I received a call from the social worker assigned to my girl. She happened to be the same one that my girl had the last time. She wanted to touch base about my concerns or questions about my girl. I obviously told her my biggest concern was drippy and the abuse situation. The social worker was aware of the situation, but my girl wasn’t willing to give her a lot of information and shut down when the topic was mentioned. The social worker told me that my girl would possibly be released on Friday and that we had to have plans in place for follow-up care and therapy. I told the social worker about the places I had researched, and unfortunately in this insurance/money based health care world, she is pushing a treatment facility that is affiliated with the short term care facility. It is not a good place, but there might not be other options.

Tonight was a visitation night. Myself, my husband, my son and daughter-in-law went to visit. Only two people are allowed to visit at one time so my son and daughter-in-law went in first and then my husband and I. When my son and daughter-in-law came out they said she seemed good. I was hopeful. When she saw me, she jumped in my arms and hugged me, really hugged me. Of course she did the same to her dad. We sat down to chat. I asked about her finger, told her she didn’t look quite as tired. She told us about a medication she was put on and how that was making her feel. We talked about the options of therapy when she is released. I asked the general question of how everything else is going and she immediately told us that she had to go to court for drippy. That she was going to be subpoenaed to testify on his behalf. I asked how she found that out and of course it’s because she is calling him from the facility. She is also apparently calling his mom, and his mom is telling my girl how drippy is going to get therapy and things will be perfect. I expressed, very calmly I might add, that I didn’t feel that it was a good plan to continue the contact with him while she is trying to mentally and physically heal. She then told me that someone that works at the facility also has BPD and my girl has talked to her about the drippy situation. According to my girl, this person said there is no reason that drippy can’t be in my girls life and they can continue their relationship……………..WTF? What am I not getting? Is my girl hearing what she wants to hear or is this actually being said. She was now going into shut down. She acknowledged that she doesn’t know what she should do and maybe she should just stay in “this fucking place forever.” That tells me she is no where close to being ready to be released for her own good. I asked her thoughts about going to a place out of state. Nope, she is not going out of state. However, after the abuse incident she wanted to get away. But he again has his fingers in her brain and is manipulating her once again. Is she allowing it? Yes, she is. Does she realize it? I don’t honestly know. He has her so brainwashed that I don’t know if it’s the disorder causing it or he is truly that talented at manipulation. It was time for visiting to end. She was upset and crying when we left and she promised me she would call me. No call as of yet. That was almost two hours ago.

I called her social worker and left a message about our visitation and all my concerns. I’m sure it sounds like a rambling bunch of nonsense, but that’s where I’m at. My ability to process much more is limited at best.

In my heart – at this time – I truly feel she will go back to him and either he will take her life or she will take her own life.

I will fight with all that I have to save my girl, my beautiful baby girl.

Shattered

I feel like I have been sitting here staring at the computer screen for hours. Trying to find the words to describe what I am feeling. I am at a loss. One of my worst fears has come true.

It all started Thursday afternoon. I was at work, actually in the middle of a webinar with my boss. The phone rang and it was my girl. I was immediately on high alert because I didn’t recognize the number showing on caller ID. She was crying and obviously upset. She asked if I could meet her at home in about an hour. Of course I said yes and I asked about the number she was calling from. She said she didn’t have her phone, but she would be home in an hour. She hung up.

I left work and headed home. My mind was racing. Now what? I got home and sent her a message on Facebook, not knowing if she had access to her messenger or not. I asked her if she was hurt. She sent a text message back saying “mentally”. A few minutes later she sent a text saying “physically”. I asked “did he lay his hands on you?” Her response “Not necessarily. I fell down the stops. My finger hurts. Might be jammed or something. I tripped over a bunch of crap trying to leave his room and fell over everything possible and fell into the wall and hit my eye.” Yes, I’m sure anyone reading had the same reaction as me – BULLSHIT.

My middle son happened to be home from work and came to the house to be there with me when she got home. My husband was not able to get to the house in time. I had no idea who was bringing her home. I assumed it would not be drippy dick since obviously they had some type of fight. I’ll be damned if it wasn’t him that drove up to the house. She was in the backseat, he was driving. My son went outside to make sure my girl got into the house safely. I saw her getting out of the back, red puffy eyes, crying, grabbing all her stuff. I saw drippy trying to get out of the car and my son holding the door shut so he couldn’t get out. I stepped outside to make sure nothing happened between my son and drippy. We eventually get my girl inside and drippy leaves.

My girl was just completely distraught. Sobbing, gasping for breath, basically a panic attack. When she could, she told us they had a fight, she tripped on stuff in his room, fell into a wall and then fell down the stairs. Her index finger on her left hand was swollen and black and blue. Her right eye was red and you could see the start of a bruising. I probed as gently as possible about the injuries and how they were sustained. She insisted drippy did not touch her. I had contacted a very close friend and someone I work with to talk to my girl. This person is familiar with domestic violence and I felt would give my girl some insight and be able to remain even tempered. My girl was very receptive to all that was said. She said she was at the point where she wanted help for her disorder and would like to go to a place I had found. It is in Boston, is only for women and is a two week in-patient treatment center for Borderline Personality Disorder. It helps patients regain control and gets them ready for the actual DBT treatment when they leave.

While we were talking, I noticed two police cruisers in front of our house. This was odd. They came to the door and asked to talk to my girl. She freaked. They said they were asked by another police department to stop by and make sure my girl was okay and get her contact information so an officer could call and talk to her. Come to find out that while drippy was driving my girl home, he pulled into a fast food place and told her to get out of his car. She did. She went inside with her stuff, sat down and asked the manager if she could charge her phone (he gave her the phone at some point) so she could call for a ride. The manager could obviously see she was upset and told her that was fine. Drippy comes into the place screaming and yelling at her, telling her to get in the car because he will take her home. The manager tells him to leave. I can only imagine how much of an ass drippy was. While drippy is outside the place he yells that he is going to come back later and shoot the place up. I am fairly certain there was more than just that said by drippy, but I don’t need to know. In order to diffuse the situation, my girl leaves the fast food place and gets back in the car. Drippy does bring her home. But now she is just over the edge. The sight of the officers threw her into a true panic attack. It took some time, but she eventually calmed down. I don’t think her body had the strength to continue.

My girl took a shower, and we got a small bit of food in her. This was in the midst of sobbing. I took her to get her finger checked. It was fractured and needed to be splinted. At some point we all went to bed, not that anyone really slept.

I stayed home Friday to be with my girl. We called the place in Boston to start the process, only to find out there is an 8 week waiting list. This sends her into a tailspin. She had her mind made up she wanted to go and she wanted to go now. I eventually get her to agree to see a general therapist for the time being and hope she will get in before 8 weeks.

We continued talking throughout the morning. Again, I can only push so hard and far or she will shut down. At one point she said “I might as well tell you what really happened. He did touch me.” I almost threw up. She said they had been fighting and she needed to leave. She was shoving stuff into her bag and was kneeling on the floor. He walked by her and basically hip-checked her, knocking her down. This infuriated her more and she continued to yell at him. At one point he pushed her into a wall, causing the black eye. He then sat on her chest (she is tiny), making it difficult for her to breath and then choked her until she was close to blacking out and kicked her while she was down on the floor. When she got him off of her, she grabbed her stuff and ran down the stairs. She said she did fall down the steps because she was going so fast. She got outside, had her bags, but not her phone. He wouldn’t give her the phone. So she approached some random stranger and asked to use his phone, which he allowed. This is the phone call I received at work. Why drippy ended up driving her home I don’t understand. I do know through talking to my girl, he was controlling every aspect of her life, he was manipulative and used her disorder against her.

Drippy started contacting her Friday. He told her he was being charged for the incident at the fast food place and it was all her fault. I checked court records and found he was charged with Terroristic Threats, a felony and a misdemeanor Disorderly Conduct charge. Oh, I almost forgot. My girl also told me drippy had a gun. That scares me more than I can tell you. As of this post, drippy has still not been picked up on the charges.

After finding out the information about drippy assaulting my girl, I started the conversation of filing charges and obtaining a Protection from Abuse order. She agreed. I got her in the car and headed to pick my husband up at work to go with us. While we were driving she answered a call from drippy. She kept saying what he did wasn’t right. You don’t choke someone you love. That he should turn himself in and face what he has coming. By the end of their conversation she had shut down. She said she couldn’t handle pressing charges or applying for the PFA and she just wanted to go home. So we turned around and came home. We are still trying to get her to reconsider.

My girl is still very confused and lost. But she is home. I will take that for the time being.

Struggling

Some days I can find a spot in my brain to tuck away all the emotional bullshit. Today is not that day.

Last night I had a dream that my girl was dead. I don’t know how she died, where she died or any other specifics. I just knew she was gone forever. I was in a car with my mom, an aunt and my grandmother who passed recently. They were all bad mouthing my girl and saying horrible things. I was so upset and I couldn’t get them to listen to me or hear me when I tried to explain that she was a beautiful and wonderful person who was afflicted with a horrible mental illness.

I am exhausted today. Drained and depleted of any and all positive or happy emotions.

A ray of hope – squashed

There was an approximate 24 hour period where we thought we had our girl back home and away from drippy dick. It was a ray of hope that faded all to quickly.

On Thursday, 1/2/20, I heard from my girl for the first time since New Years Eve. On New Years Eve she sent me a message letting me know drippy was driving her home so she could shower. She arrived around 9pm, came in the front door, straight up the steps and into the bathroom. No hi, no nothing. When she was finished showering and what not, she came down the steps and went directly out the front door. No goodbye, no nothing. She jumped in drippy’s car and was gone. When I messaged asking what the deal was I simply got a “I’m sorry” as a response.

Anyway, back to Thursday. Thursday was back to work for my husband and I after the holiday. I had been very reluctant to message my girl since I had no idea when drippy would be reading and/or responding to me or what influence he was having over her responding to me. Even though the year is now 2020, I still do not have cell service at work. I have an iphone and can receive texts from other iphone’s, but nothing else. That is why I always relied on Facebook Messenger to communicate with my girl when I am working. Around 1pm I got a message from my girl asking me if I would get her an Uber to get home. She was with drippy. I asked few questions and realized they were having another fight and she needed to get out of the situation. This was our biggest fear in taking her car. She is 45-60 minutes away and has no way to get away if she needs to. I ordered the Uber and was glad it was only 5 minutes away from her. Yes, she now had to give me the address of drippy, at lease I am assuming they were at drippy’s house. I tell her it’s on the way and get a message saying I should cancel it and she would “figure it out on her own”. I replied it was too late the Uber was coming and she needed to come home. The Uber drive sent me a message and said he would be picking her up at a nearby intersection, I relayed the information to my girl via message. She responded she didn’t know where it was and then another message comes in from her that reads “lmfaooooooo”. I was very confused. And then I realized drippy was reading and sending messages on her account. I called her just as the Uber was getting to her. Again, she was crying and distraught. I made sure she was in the car and on the way home and hung up. The next message that came in was “fuck you both”, which was sent by drippy. A few minutes later another message came in saying “I’m done you guys win”. I had no idea who sent that and what is was referring to. I stood by a window to send my girl a text and find out if she sent it and what was going on. She told me he sent it and that they were done. She made it home safely and told me she was going to shower and would see me when I got home from work.

Of course the remainder of the work day seemed to drag by and all I could wonder was if I was going to go home and find her dead or alive.

I got home and she was in her room. I could tell she had been crying. I asked if she wanted to talk and she said she wasn’t ready. That evening she went to visit her oldest brother and his family. She said she needed the distraction. She ate dinner with them and got ice cream. When they brought her home she looked exhausted, sad and just awful. Before she went to bed I asked if she was ready to talk about what was going on. Again she said she needed some time to think. I was okay with that, I knew from past experience if I pushed her to hard she would completely shut down.

Friday was another work day for me and my husband. I checked in with her throughout the day. She told me she was sad and didn’t feel like getting out of bed. Eventually she did get out of bed and showered. I got home from work and checked in on her. I told her we were thinking of going out to a local restaurant for dinner and asked if she wanted to go or we could do something else. She said she wanted to go and would get ready.

I waited downstairs for her and when she came down we made some small talk and then I asked her what was going on. She said she didn’t know what was happening with drippy and that he might come to talk to her later that evening. I took the opening to ask her if she really thought this was a healthy relationship, asked how much they fight and argue, and a boatload of other questions. She was open and I think honest with me. She told me she felt physically ready to leave him but not mentally. I told her I feel she doesn’t want to stay at home because we would make her live in reality and deal with her Borderline Personality Disorder (BDP) and when she is with drippy she can live in a fantasy world where no one makes her be responsible. She didn’t disagree. I asked her what she thought about the message he sent me regarding the Christmas presents. She always becomes defensive of drippy. I was very honest and told her that I don’t think I could ever get past what he has said to me and other members of the family and there was no way I would allow him to be around my granddaughter. I asked her if she was okay with his comment them getting married and having kids and never letting me see the kids because I’m such a terrible person. She didn’t have a response to that. There were many other comments made about therapy and getting a job. I can’t express in words how heartbreaking it was to hear her say she just doesn’t care enough to get the help she needs. She doesn’t want to be here and wishes we (meaning the family) would just hate her because it would make leaving the world easier for her. The hopelessness she expressed was simply heartbreaking. She told me she thinks about not being alive every day. She was in tears, so was I. I ended the conversation telling her we would never not care or not love her and all we wanted was for her to be mentally and physically healthy.

We did end up going out for dinner. I think we both needed the distraction. My middle son and his wife joined us, as did two close family friends. We sat and ate and chatted. At one point my girl said she would like to go home, she was feeling anxious and needed to get away from the noise and commotion. I was okay with that since the place we were at is about three minutes from our house. My husband took her home and then came back to the restaurant. After about 20 minutes I got a message from my girl telling me that drippy was coming to get her. I told her I didn’t understand why she was going to leave with him and she said she needed to talk to him. The cameras alerted us when he picked her up and she left with two bags of clothing.

My girl came home Saturday evening, again to shower. We had friends over that hadn’t seen her in about a year. They were shocked how skinny and pale she looked. As soon as she came in I could tell she was stoned. And she didn’t stick around to chat. She showered, came down and talked for about 5 minutes, took some food and left with drippy.

Any hope we had that we would be able to get her the help she needed is gone, again. She promised me she would call about therapy on Monday, but I have heard that many times. My heart is heavy and my fear is off the charts. It’s just a matter of time before something happens to her. I have nightmares about answering the door and seeing police officers that came to tell me she is dead. I fear she will be at a very low place and do something to herself and drippy will never tell us. She is slipping farther and farther away and I am terrified.