Monday morning and I’m still confused…

(SIGH) – It was a long weekend. I can’t believe I am saying that. Typically, the weekends fly by at lightning speed. As a bit of an update, my mom ended up back in the hospital in FL having emergency surgery, I believe that was Tuesday. When she was admitted for this time her intestines were close to bursting and she had to be cut open the old fashioned way. Laparoscopic surgery wasn’t an option. Scary shit. She still has the NG tube, which is still pumping out grossness. The epidural that was placed for surgery caused her right foot to become completely numb, making any type of walking an extreme hazard. No clue when she will be released from the hospital and then how long it will take her to feel strong enough for a flight to PA.

Visited my grandmother on Friday. She is hanging in there. I honestly can’t say enough about hospice and the care they provide. She is, of course, worried about my mom (her daughter). I have this awful feeling of guilt after visiting with her. She kept asking what the family is doing for Thanksgiving. I am the one who has been having the holidays at my house. I would be the one to have Thanksgiving. At this point I highly doubt my mom and step-dad will be home. My sister and brother-in-law are in FL for the winter. I still haven’t talked to my kids about what is happening with their in-laws. Oh, girl child did tell me a few weeks ago she has to work on Thanksgiving. My grandmother now gets morphine every 4 hours around the clock, is on oxygen (at a very high rate) 24/7, has to use a wheelchair to travel further than 4-5 feet or she is so out of breath it takes a very long time for her to recover. She feels I would be able to handle all of that and her wheelchair will fit through my standard household doors (head drops into my hands). I think she feels it will be the last time out of the nursing home. I get that, BUT………………..

Received a message from girl child early Friday asking what we were doing for dinner and would we be around Friday night. I replied I wasn’t sure yet, but we always get food. Friday is typically our eat out day. She said she would be home to eat and sleep and asked if I would help her dye her hair. I was looking forward to seeing her and pretending for just a little that things were “normal.” Sent her a message around 4:30PM asking when she would be home and got the response, “NVM, I’m sorry.” Followed by a message letting me know she might be home around 7PM to shower and I could save her food….my response to her was “will you ever be allowed to be here”. Her answer “I’ll be home for the night like 5:30 6ish for the night, probably.” I have been on the receiving side of many messages ending with “probably” from my girl. That means whatever she is talking about isn’t going to happen. So, we ordered from a local Italian shop. We had a few sandwiches and pizza. She walks in and asks what I got for her. Told her nothing since I had no idea if she was actually going to be home, but we ordered more than enough. Of course the attitude came out. No, no she wasn’t going to eat our food. OMFG. Whatever. She takes a shower, comes back downstairs and does eat our food. She starts doing some wash while we are just hanging out watching TV. I was honestly beat from the day and headed to bed to read. I fell asleep reading. Wake up the next morning and check the cameras. I love to see the cats that set the camera off every night. I was shocked to see my girl leaving the house around 9:30 PM. WOW. It just cut me to my core. Sent her a message saying I don’t think I will ever understand what is happening with her. No response.

I feel horrible for saying this, but at this point I wish she would just stay away or officially move out. Not this back and forth bullshit. It just tears me apart every time. I get to a point where I think I’m handling shit and then BOOM – she’s back and I’m hopeful. I think she is completely controlled by drippy dick. I think it is now a game. He wants us to tell her she has to go. He wants us to be the bad guys. He wants to be her savior. I’m closer to letting her go than I was a few months ago, but I’m just not there yet.

On a side note. The cat that she had to have a few years ago and we allowed her to have, pissed on my sofa. The cat isn’t getting the attention she deserves and she is not happy. This cat was her emotional support animal. She was attached to this cat in a way I can’t explain. When she left I told her she needs to make arrangements for the cat or take her. I have more than enough to take care of. I was told she was trying to find someone to take her. So, I found someone to take her. A very good home, someone I know would love and take care of her the way she deserves. Well holy hell, you would have thought I took the cat outback and shot it. I got such a guilt trip about how I’m not giving my girl time to get her stuff together, that cat means the world to her, if it wasn’t for the cat she would be dead, that cat is like a child to her. Well then, girl child, you abandoned your child to live with drippy dick and work for a shipping company. The cat is still in my house, but now has to stay in her room. Won’t be long until the room is destroyed. (SIGH)

Oh, I did something yesterday that I can’t believe I did! I have tattoos. Like a decent amount. Most visible tattoos are very small, two small wrist ones, small ankle ones, one on the back of my neck I hate and want to get removed. Anyway, point being I have never gotten anything sizable on an area that is highly visible. I did yesterday. Left inner forearm for my grandbaby. I love it. I am hoping I have the balls to continue as I would love to have a full sleeve on my left arm…….time will tell!

GRATEFUL

To my dedicated followers, I thank you for continuing to read and I feel like I need to apologize for spewing so much negativity. However, this is currently my life. This blog has been therapeutic for me. I am able to release a little bit of the stress and bullshit. As the words are flowing I sometimes stop and really try to think about the current situation. I don’t necessarily find the answers I wish I had, but I do find a bit of acceptance.

I do have some wonderful people in my life that I am blessed and grateful to have. My number one is my husband. He is the quiet force behind me that continues to hold me up regardless of how tired and exhausted he is. He is my everything and I would be lost without him.

I’m not one of those people who have hundreds of close friends. I have a lot of people that I would consider acquaintances and I have 358 Facebook friends. I honestly have not maintained friendships from high school. I am in awe of people who have continued to evolve those friendships.

I feel fortunate to have a variety of different people in my life that I consider to be very close friends. People I can confide in and trust. There are a few of those friendships that have hit road bumps along the way. Different life issues created breaks in the friendship. I am so very blessed that I was able to patch those breaks and move forward. I am still working on one relationship/friendship – but I am hopeful we will be moving forward and creating more memories together in the near future. Even with the breaks and life issues, I have no doubt I can reach out for help or guidance and have a shoulder to cry on or a voice of reason.

I appreciate the friendships where the door is always open. There are no strings attached. Come as you are, you know where the alcohol is, help yourself and be comfortable. The conversation is deep and varied. There is no judgement if views are different and I always feel a little lighter when I leave.

Over the last few years I have made new friends and had some incredible adventures. My sister has always been a person I could count on, but we have become much closer recently. She is definitely part of my inner-circle. She and her husband have been very fortunate in life and they have no issue sharing that fortune with others. Down deep my sister is a rocker at heart. She has made it a mission to see as many concerts as she possibly can. And she always takes me along for the ride. The genre is varied between rock, pop, jazz – pretty much anything. Most recently we went to Las Vegas to see the final concert of Guns n Roses Not in this Lifetime Tour. That was the fourth time we same them in concert over the last three years. It was freaking amazing! My sister also includes some of her close friends. At first, I have to admit, I wasn’t sure how to feel about this. I feel very protective of my sister. There are people I feel use her because of her good nature and her wealth. HOWEVER, I can’t explain how wonderful these women are. We are all at different places in our lives, come from different backgrounds, but we mesh in a way that is incredible. I feel I could throw an SOS text out and each of them would find a way to help. We lift each other up. It is a very strong group of women and did I mention beautiful? Each one so different and beautiful in their own way. I don’t feel judged, I feel accepted. I have so many wonderful memories and look forward to making many more with these incredible women.

I need to mention my other kids. I have two amazing sons. The oldest is 26 and has a wonderful girlfriend and baby girl. He is working in a field that he loves and is making a name for himself. The next in line is my 23 year old son. He married a wonderful girl a few months ago in a beautiful ceremony. They have a house and a new puppy. He is also doing very well in his career and is also going to school part-time to receive his bachelor’s in business. I am anxious and hopeful that they start working on a family in the next few years! It is simply amazing to sit back and watch them and grow into incredible adults. They make me very proud and I am grateful for their love and support.

I do believe that things happen in life for a reason. I will be the first to admit when my son and his girlfriend came to us and told us they were pregnant on April 10, 2017 (I remember the date because April 10 is my husbands birthday) I was in shock and very unsure how to feel. I was scared for them, were they ready for this (my son is 25 and his girlfriend 23), was I ready for this? But oh my wow! My beautifully perfect granddaughter officially joined our family on 10/7/18 and my life changed. Through all the sadness and heartache in dealing with my daughter, my granddaughter brings a light and joy to my world that I can’t begin to explain. She reminds me I can be happy, she reminds me to laugh and most of all she loves me unconditionally.

Thank you to those that continue to read and comment. I have so many topics I can’t wait to write about.

A Jumbled Mind

My mind is a jumbled mess. Unfinished sentences, words I can’t quite seem to find, all floating around making a mess. I thought I had reached my lowest point in dealing with my girl child’s issues. I try and pretend everyday that I am fine. I’m sure I am selling the idea that I can handle it all. I’m not falling apart on the inside and I am certainly not falling apart on the outside. Pretty sure none of that is true. There are definitely people in my life who ignore the signs they might see as I spiral downward. It’s much easier to ignore the bad. And I get that. I really do. But please stop telling me that I just have to put “it” out of my mind. I can’t do that and I will not do that. Because that “it” is my little pink baby girl. A life that I promised to protect and love and support.

The past week has been one of my worst. Not because of any one thing that I can point to, but the culmination of the last four years. At least that is my opinion. When I am dealing with the chaos of living among my girl child’s issues, I have to stay strong. I have to be her support, still go to work, still take care of a house, I still have to make dinner every night, still babysit my grandbaby three or four nights a week, still make time for the other people I care about. I HAVE TO! If I don’t, I fail – right?

As of right now things with the girl child are what I would call stable-ish. I think this is why my body is now “releasing” the stress. She had a job for about two weeks and quit. She has lied about chlamydia boy and seeing him. He has broken up with her on three occasions creating some fairly severe breakdowns. She has had a severe bladder/kidney infection (again) which landed her in the ER for dehydration. The antibiotic made her sick, so she couldn’t/wouldn’t eat and drink. (Side note: She was at the family doc in May 2019 and weighed 131, she is currently about 115. But I am positive she is again smoking weed because I have seen a significant increase in what she is consuming throughout a day.) I finally found a place to do a psych evaluation on her. She had the first appointment the end of July. She is scheduled for a total of 7 hours of testing over a three day period. After all results are combined and reviewed, she should have a better understanding of what her mental health issues are. During the evaluation the doc mentioned she wouldn’t be surprised if my girl child has been dealing with a learning disability that school never picked up on. The girl child promises she will do what is recommend to help herself. She has made these promises before…… So yes, this is stable-ish for our family.

On the physical side, I have had some sort of weird throat thing happening for over a week. My voice sounds very hoarse, my throat doesn’t hurt. It’s weird. About two years ago I was diagnosed with fibro. I deal with it cause I have to. Some days are better than others. This week and last week have been hell. For some reason my worst areas are my elbows, shoulders and feet. Picking up a bottle of water hurts, picking up the phone at work hurts. There is also a “brain fog” that goes along with fibro. Not sure if this is the cause of my jumbled mind or it’s a combination of everything.

I also find myself eating, a lot. And this is something that makes me feel so incredibly awful. Almost eight years ago I had weight loss surgery. That’s an entirely different story. And I was successful. I have never been prouder of myself. I now find myself turning to my old friend food. Food was always there for me. Food made me feel loved. Food doesn’t judge.

The jumbled mind has just been awful. At work I don’t think anyone has really noticed. I have the occasionally stumble over finding a word or remembering a name. I think I’m handling work pretty well. Outside of work I feel like a person that might be described as “slow”. I was at Walmart to get specific items, I even had a list. I found myself just wandering aimlessly having no idea what I was getting, not remembering the list I had and just buying random shit. During conversations my mind just wonders off. My brain derails from the train of thought and I don’t get it back. It’s GONE. I was driving one of my dogs to the groomer, drove past not one, but two roads that I needed to turn on to get to the groomer.

And the worst thing lately is my lack of sleeping and the nightmares I have when I do sleep. I had what felt like and seemed like a full length movie type nightmare where I had to plan my girl child’s funeral. Start to finish. Throughout the nightmare the actual reason for her death was never actually said but the feel was it was suicide. I had to pick where to hold the funeral, what she would wear, what pictures I wanted of her displayed, how her hair should be, how her make-up should be, get her nails done the way she liked them. Details that I never want to deal with or think about again. The way I had to console other people through the funeral and was never really allowed to grieve the way I think I needed to. No one would see what I was going through. I felt so selfish the next day.

A few nights ago I had another horrible nightmare. This time I was holding my grandbaby and was putting her to sleep. She was very small and wrapped in what reminded me of a hospital blanket. Almost like she was a newborn (she is actually 10 months). I was rocking her in my arms to sleep. At some point I realize she isn’t breathing. I scream for my husband. I lay her on a table and unwrap the blanket. She isn’t breathing. Her eyes are just slits, but I can see the beautiful blue color of her pupils. I am screaming for someone to call 911, I call 911. I am on the floor sobbing and crying and asking for help. My husband is the only there and he can’t/won’t go close to her. I go to the table and start CPR. I can feel my mouth going over her nose/mouth to give her breaths. Some kind of EMS personnel are now there and telling us its too late. I won’t listen. I’m sobbing and wailing and the feeling of guilt that I killed her. She died in my arms is overwhelming me in the nightmare. I woke up with swollen eyes and a throbbing headache. I have not told anyone about these nightmares. They were too real. They feel too “close” to share. I feel like they are very selfish dreams. I don’t really know how to explain it. Why was I making a nightmare like these about me? Why am I trying to get people realize what I am feeling? UGH

…and the saga continues

It’s hard to believe it has been over a month since my last post about my daughter.  At times it feels like an eternity.  As an update to dealing with health insurance and the healthcare industry; after my daughter was released from in-patient treatment she had an appointment scheduled for her first group therapy session.  I was not thrilled to find out it was the same healthcare facility where she had a very bad experience with a child psychiatrist.  I raised my concerns with her social worker and was assured it was the best option available.  Okay.

The sessions were to be a few times a week and last for about 5 hours.  The first scheduled day happened to fall on a Friday.  She was to be there by 10AM and would leave around 3PM.  This just so happened to be the Friday that my husband and I were heading to the apartment my daughter had while attending photography school.  On the day my daughter came home back in March she brought some things along, but was not mentally ready to clean the place out.  I made arrangements for my mom, her grandmother, to drop her off at the therapy session and I would pick her up.  My daughter agreed to this.  As my husband and I are in the midst of cleaning the apartment, which is about 2 hours away, my phone starts blowing up with messages from my daughter.  She’s not going to therapy, she can’t, she can’t get out of bed, she can’t make herself get dressed, she doesn’t want to do it, she’s not going to do it.  FUCKING AWESOME!  I began with messaging her back telling her she had to, needed to, etc.  Got to the point I called her, she is hysterical crying that she can’t do it.  My dilemma – I’m 2 hours away, no one is home with her, she just got released from in-patient therapy a few days ago, she has a history of self-harming, suicidal thoughts….hmmmm, what do I do???????  With my husband glaring at me, I calmly tell her that she will have to call the therapy place, cancel her appointment and reschedule the appointment as soon as possible and I would talk to her when we get home.

Now, the apartment.  I was a mess thinking about what we were going to find when we unlocked her apartment door.  From the way the rental agency acted the place was trashed, would need to be repainted, etc.  Apparently, they just wanted her out and I can’t blame them for that.  When we opened the door things really were not that bad.  Yes, it wasn’t white glove test clean – but it certainly wasn’t trashed.  I started in the bathroom, my husband started in the kitchenette area and we kinda met in the middle.  Things were going really well, moving quickly and what not.  And then I started cleaning the bathroom sink.  (As a reminder, weed had become a very close friend of my daughter’s while away at school.)  I’m cleaning the vanity and sink and the water is not going down the drain.  I’m playing with the drain plug, doing all I can to get this moving.  No luck.  I call out to my husband that he needs to go to Walmart and get a plunger, a snake thingy or Drain-O.  His response “like hell I’m spending anymore money on this place.”  I had to agree with him.  Since he is a very handy guy, he went to work on the sink drain.  I continue my cleaning of the bedroom/TV area.  At some point my hubby starts screaming for a towel.  I’m thinking great – he broke something, we will have to pay a plumber thousands of dollars….nope, he took the trap out which seemed to the be problem.  Here is a helpful hint to all who use those little cigar wrap thingies when assembling a blunt – DO NOT put the leftover tobacco stuff down the drain because it will clog.  Just a little FYI from me to you.  I may not have gotten the terminology correct – but you know what I mean.  Anyway, we continue on our way and are done in about an hour and half.  I had a sense of satisfaction when I opened the cabinet below the kitchen sink and saw the large brown Ball jar that the chlamydia boy gave my daughter for Christmas – cause I threw the bitch in the trash.  Take that chlamydia boy!  HA HA HA

The drive home from the apartment was long.  I had no idea what to expect when I walked in the house.  I was in communication with my girl throughout the drive, but until you actually see that they are safe- the mind can go to so many wonderful places! She was in her bed, she seemed distant and was defensive.  That is my indication that she smoked weed before we got home.  That just makes talking to her so much more difficult.  The eye rolls, the attitude – AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH.  I made her call the therapy place to reschedule, which she did.  She asked if I would take her and drop her off and I agreed to do that.

Now, during this time she was talking the life coach person.  My daughter described her as “life changing”.  Great, awesome, fanfuckingtastic!  She said she felt as if she was learning how to control her anxiety with new ideas and meditation.  Again, I am all in.

The day for the therapy appointment arrives.  I take off work.  It is a very quite 20 minute drive to the place.  I sensed a definite attitude, but more of a she was scared and nervous and couldn’t believe I was making her do this kind of attitude.  We walk in, follow at the signs through a maze of hallways to the out-patient therapy registration.  We walk up to the little reception area and a very pleasant lady asks what we are there for.  I tell her.  She looks at my daughter and asks for her name.  My daughter didn’t hear her through the bulletproof surround the lady was behind.  I answer, which annoys the lovely lady even more.  She clacks away on her computer and tells me she doesn’t have any appointments for my daughter.  I tell her it was made and confirmed.  She gets my daughter’s date of birth and clacks away some more.  Asks a few more questions, who set it up, why was it set up, etc.  I am giving her all the information.  Meanwhile, my daughter is shrinking farther and farther away, tears in the eyes, ready to bolt out the nearest door.  The lady insists there are no appointments scheduled for her, but we can sit in the waiting room for the first come first serve therapy and they might get to her today.  WOW – no, that’s not going to happen.  We leave and drive home.  My girl goes immediately to her room and I sit on the sofa to try and figure out why the fuck this shit keeps happening.  Why are these doors continually slammed in her face?????????

About an hour after we are home my cell phone rings.  I don’t know the number, so I don’t answer.  I get a notification that I have a voicemail.  I listen.  Well, how surprised am I to find it is Emily from the therapy place asking why my daughter missed her appointment.  A very snooty Emily at that.  I am fairly certain my blood pressure rose so quickly I passed out for a few seconds.  I tried calling back and received Emily’s voicemail.  I let a message asking Emily to call me back and the numbers where I would be available.  Emily called me back the following day while I was at work.   Emily starts the conversation asking why my daughter didn’t show up.  I explain to her we did show up and were told there was not an appointment scheduled for my daughter.  She asked where we were, I gave her the address where we were and how we followed the signs to the out-patient therapy registration and were then greeted by a very rude person.  She wanted to know the name of the person, I don’t fucking know Emily. She asked me to describe the room, describe the pictures on the wall, describe the color of the paint on the wall.  WHAT?  I don’t know, I was trying to keep my daughter from breaking down and fleeing!  I actually did say that to her.  To which, Emily said that the program didn’t sound right for my daughter if she was that anxious.  Excuse me?  A social worker set this up for my daughter while she was in-patient.  Unless, Emily, you have a degree to diagnose people, please shut up.  Emily also tried to tell me we were probably at the wrong place but had no response when I asked her if there were multiple locations to register why wouldn’t the lovely person behind the bulletproof walls tell us that?  Couldn’t she use the company phone and maybe call another department to see if we were scheduled somewhere else?  Emily told me she would look into the matter and get back to me by the end of the day.  That didn’t happen, she got back to me two days later.  She left a voicemail on my cell phone ( I don’t get reception on my cell at work, which I told Emily during our last conversation).  She told me she had an appointment for my daughter with a therapist who agreed to “fit her in to his very busy schedule”.  That is actually what she said.  Not the group therapy she was supposed to attend, that she actually liked and got some “stuff” out of, but some random therapist that “fit her in”.  I never called her back.  I know that was wrong and immature, but my gut feeling was my girl was not going to get the help she needed and it would push her away even more.

I stared the process of trying to find a female therapist type person that is credible for my daughter to meet with.  It was proven difficult and I am on wait lists for appointments.  Again, wow.

March turned into April.  My girl stopped talking to her life coach, without my knowledge.  I got a text one day that she didn’t “show up” for their video session or whatever you call it.  I asked her why.  Her answer – I don’t want to.  My answer – you need to, you aren’t in any therapy and you need an outlet.  Her answer – but she (the life coach) told me she doesn’t think I have depression or anxiety.  She thinks I just don’t have the right coping skills and she doesn’t think I need to be on meds.  I can handle it, mom.  So, we had the ongoing argument about her talking to someone.  She is willing to go back to therapy, that is when and if I can get her in somewhere.  Why is this so difficult?  

I was cautiously optimistic that just maybe the stress from school was gone, there was a distance between chlamydia boy, she seemed to be vested in the world around her.  Maybe she was learning to cope better.

NOPE!  I was wrong.  So very wrong.  I thought we beyond the lies and the bullshit she puts me through. 

There is one girl who she still occasionally chats with from high school.  The girl is local, a nice kid.  I know they smoked weed together in high school.  My daughter asked a to hang out with her friend and stay at her house.  I voiced my concern about the weed.  I was told the friend doesn’t do that anymore.  Okay.   She stayed overnight on a Monday into Tuesday.  Just so happened that I contracted some bizarre viral infection that caused a coating of ulcers down my throat and I left work early that Tuesday for a doctor appointment.  I’m at home waiting for my appointment time and I had messaged my girl asking when she was coming home.  This was maybe 11AM.  She said that the two were getting a late breakfast.  Okay.  Sounds legit.  That is until my cell phone rings about an hour later and it’s my daughter.  I answer and she is crying.  She was in an accident.  After finding out that she wasn’t hurt, she told me she lied to me and was actually with chlamydia boy and the crash happened in the area he lives, which is about 45 minutes away.  The crash was not her fault, a lady in a big Mercedes blew through a yield sign and basically t-boned my daughter’s car on the driver’s side.  

Now, this is where I think I shut down.  Maybe because my body was already battling a strange viral infection, maybe because of the last month that was pure hell, maybe because the last eight years have been hell.  I told her she needed to deal with it. I would call dad and let her know where to have the car towed to.  While sitting at home my biggest fear was the cops would get to the scene, smell the aroma of weed from her car, search her car, take her for a blood test to see if she was driving while impaired.  I could feel the bile rising in my throat as each second ticked by.  I have the unfortunate knowledge of how that process works – cause I work in a police department (just as the office manager, not an officer).  My girl continued to keep me updated on what was happening and told me she was driving the car home.  RANT:  the cop that investigated the crash let my 18 year old drive 45 minutes home in a car that’s side air bags deployed, the driver’s door could not open (she had to enter and exit the car from the passenger side) and the roll bars popped.  The car was a convertible and when impact occurred, it was that hard the car was lifted off the ground, which caused the roll bar to pop.  That is not safe, no matter if it was my kid or a 50 year old man!   End rant.  I looked at the positive side that she was at least not arrested and was on her way home.  We had her drop the car off at a dealership and my husband picked her up and brought her home. 

It was a quite day.  I think she was expecting a lot of yelling and screaming.  I asked how many times she lie to us and went to chlamydia boy.  She said one other time.  I will assume that means at least three other times if not more.  Here is the bonus.  Chlamydia boy was with her when the crash happened.  She told me she was driving him to pay off some fines and stuff he had.  I knew he had a record.  I did a check on him – but only what anyone else can find.  It was all public information.  The charges were for harassment and possession of a controlled substance.  Cause, ya know, he is really turning his life around……  As she was calling me and telling the details of what was happening at the crash scene I asked how chlamydia boy was getting home, did she now have to drive him home, etc.  No, the officer was going to take him home.  Okay, that happens all the time.  This is where things get interesting.  For some reason chlamydia boy tells the cop he has a joint in his pocket.  I can only assume the officer offered him the ride but still ran the kid and found he hadn’t paid his fines and costs and he was in violation of his probation by having the joint.  Chlamydia boy was taken to jail, well at least an in-take area of jail.  My girl found this out after she was home and someone messaged her to let her know.  I just couldn’t be sympathetic because I could’t understand why she wants a person like this in her life.  Of course, chlamydia boy was released after paying his fines and costs.  The jails are just to crowded to keep a little shit like that.

April is soon turning to May and she has done little to help herself.  I was promised she would contact the life coach and start talking to her again.  That didn’t happen.  I was told she is applying for jobs.  That hasn’t happened.  I was told she is going to clean her room and do her wash.  That hasn’t happened.  Sigh.  Do I kick the 18 year old out of my house and let her fail even more miserably?  I just don’t have the right answer.  I have pressure from almost every member of my family that knows what has been happening with my girl.  I know very well that I am fucking up in every way possible.  But I also know I don’t want her to be dead.  My mind can’t help but remember all the stories from work.  A few weeks ago a mom called because her daughter left the house and was texting her mom saying goodbye, and how she couldn’t keep going.  It was awful.  The cellphone of the girl was pinged for three hours, until the car the girl was driving was finally seen and the girl was in it.  Last week a local woman hung herself in her house while her husband and kids were there.  The woman was known to have “issues”.  I guess I need a new job.  

Will she get a job, get into therapy, start taking her meds again, get chlamydia boy out of her life, finish her photography program’s final project so she can get her certificate?  I just don’t know.  I do know I am tired.  I do know there are days I feel crazy.  There are days that I want to stay in bed all day, days were I want out, days where I don’t want to keep taking care of everyone.  But that’s what being a mom is about, right?