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.

Just a typical Saturday

Just another typical Saturday. I have the timer on my phone set so I can get the towels hung up on the wash-line as soon as they are finished. The sheets and blankets are already out and drying. Who doesn’t love the smell of sheets and towels that have been hanging outside for hours?

Just another typical Saturday. The sound of the neighborhood is the background noise. Lawn mowers, power washers (shit, I have to remember to get the power washer from my parents – note to self), darks barking, and kids laughing.

Just another typical Saturday. My girl child told me yesterday she doesn’t have the fight to live anymore. She wants to give back the life I gave her. She doesn’t want it. She is tired, so very tired of fighting. She is so very tired of pretending everyday is just another typical day.

I can’t explain what that does to me. She is sitting in front of me baring her soul to me. Telling me her truest feelings and emotions. And all I can do is sit and listen. We talk about options. The only real option is signing herself into the hospital, again. She decided to call her current therapist and talk to her about what some options might be or what the therapist might suggest. She called, the office is closed on Friday due to COVID-19. She doesn’t get a call back . We talk about the hospital still being an option or if she feels she will be safe at home, wait until Monday and see what the therapist has to say. We are open and honest with each other in the fact that if she goes into the hospital on a Friday night, nothing will be done or put into motion until Monday morning anyway. However, my concern is will she be safe. She told me she doesn’t have a plan to end her life and doesn’t feel like she will do anything stupid right now – but she feels it is coming to that. She admitted she is pushing us away because it would make it easier for her to leave. She wouldn’t feel as guilty if she didn’t think we cared or if she pushed hard enough for us to give up on her.

My girl feels lost and hopeless. I feel lost and hopeless. She told me the only reason she is still alive is because of me and her dad and her niece. She is not alive for herself. Wow. Think about that. Seriously, think about that. Not having anything within your self or joy in your life. Remember, as you begin to judge her – she is fighting an invisible monster NO ONE can see, NO ONE can feel, NO ONE can imagine fighting. This is not a phase, this is not a “get over it” kind of situation. This is real. It is very, very real.

Am I being selfish with my girls life? Of course I don’t want her to end her life and not be in my world. But how much can one person take? How much can one person fight? When is it enough?

My timer went off.

Just a typical Saturday.

Another jumbled mess – my apologies

Is it just me or does anyone else feel like the shower is the best place for thinking? Each morning when I am in standing in the beautifully hot water my mind becomes awakened. Thoughts and ideas are plentiful and I can’t wait to get to work to make notes and then write an amazing post that will draw in hundreds of readers and followers. In the shower I know it will epic and potent and raw and real. I KNOW IT!

Then I walk into work and the life force gets sucked out of me. I convince myself that my thoughts aren’t epic, my ideas aren’t potent and that the only raw and real part of my daily life is the feeling of – eh. I hate it. I despise it.

Someone asked me recently what is happening with the girl child. Well, nothing. She is working, which is good. She is doing phone therapy, which is bad. I know, after all the posts about needing therapy and I say it’s now bad. Let me explain. She was accepted into a DBT program – AWESOME! It includes individual and group therapies – AWESOME! She had two individual therapy sessions and was waiting for the group sessions to start; and then COVID-19 hit. Everything was cancelled, individual therapy became phone therapy. I ask how it’s going, she say’s fine. At one point she said she doesn’t know why she is bothering because the phone therapy is awful, she is getting nothing out of it, she needs the one on one. She is ready to give up on it completely. She knows if she does give up on it, there will be consequences.

Is she still seeing drippy dick? I don’t know. About a month ago she posted a picture of them with the caption “you and me against the world”. Wow, did that piss me off. Where has he been in the process of helping her get well? How is the person that beat you going to help you? Seriously, WTF? My girl is home more now than she had been in the last 5 months. Probably 3 times a week she leaves to stay over at a friends house. No, I’m not an idiot. Is she going to him? Probably, most likely, yes. Here is the part I hate to admit. When she is home, it is uncomfortable. She feels, we feel it. We are waiting for the next “thing” that sets her off and choose our words carefully – if we speak at all, and she is waiting for us to ask about drippy, which would cause the next episode. I don’t like being uncomfortable in my house. When she is in her room for hours on end, I feel guilty. Is she in her room because she wants to be or because she feels just as uncomfortable as we do? UGH. When she isn’t home, of course I worry, but it’s different some how. At the end of the day, it’s still emotionally draining and exhausting.

I did have my first therapy session. I found a psychologist that I felt comfortable with and felt I could be me. I found the doc through a friend/co-worker and was able to chat with the doc prior to my first appointment. It was nice because at the first official appointment we didn’t have to spend the entire hour on the background of my girl and what was happening. At the beginning of the appointment I was asked what I’m hoping to gain from therapy. Good question. I said I needed help dealing, I needed ideas to help me help her. We went through what we have done to help her so far, how we deal with her episodes, blah, blah, blah. At the end the doc looked at me and said, “You are doing all you can do. I don’t know what else I can tell you to do or try.” The doc had one suggestion to try to get my girl into a group home for mentally unstable people. Ummmm, no. I know what goes on in those places, especially homes that are run by the local county or state. Nope, not happening. No way in hell. So, I guess we wait. We wait for therapy to begin again, we wait for group therapy to begin and help her learn the life skills she needs. I’m tired of waiting.

I wanted to write about music

I wanted to write about sex

I wanted to write about dreaming

Maybe next time.

me

My girl was released last Monday (2/17). She was happy to be “out” and said it felt like she hadn’t been in the real world for months. Appointments for follow-up care were made through the facility. Today is her first appointment with a facility that provides the DBT treatment recommended for BPD. She will have two weeks of one-on-one therapy/counseling to assess if she is serious about therapy and learning new skills. If it is deemed she is not serious, we are back to square one. If she decides she doesn’t want to be in treatment, she is back to square one. At this point I have no clue if she will go to this first appointment or not. If she doesn’t, I don’t know what is next.

Her first night home she came to me later in the evening and asked if she could go to a friends house for the night that lives in our town. She doesn’t have to ask my permission, she is 19 years old. I asked all the questions, who, why, where, etc. She told me she was worried about being alone all day the following day and having nothing to keep her mind busy. So, she left for the night.

What pissed me off the most was the following day, she never bothers to contact me until late in the afternoon. But, I get over it (again). She was home Tuesday by early evening. Wednesday, she left for a friend that lives in the same town that drippy lives in. Now, supposedly this friend despises drippy and is very against my girl being involved with him. I tell her all my concerns and apprehensions. But she goes. She returns home Friday early afternoon. I had limited contact with her Wednesday – Friday, but did ask about drippy and if she was going to be seeing him. I was told she did not yet know what she was going to do, but if she did decide to see him her friend would be there so she was safe (picture me modding my head with a very disgusted look on my face). At some point Friday I asked her if she saw/talked to drippy. She said she talked to him on the phone. Later that evening I notice a mark on my girls neck. How I remained calm I do not know. It was a hickey. I called her out on it, to which she replied she only saw him for a few minutes…………at that point I could actually feel the tiny amount of hope I was holding onto seep from my body. I was a pile of sludge on the floor, no bones, no feelings – just sludge. I sent my girl a text late Friday night when I was tossing and turning. I just realized I deleted it, but basically said something like – He is claiming you by marking you with a hickey. He is showing us he is back in control. Dad and I don’t want to control you, we want to help you on your path to recovery.” I got no response.

This is now the me part. This may contain little bits of information about my past and my emotional hang-ups.

I haven’t slept an entire night for a long time. Since seeing the hickey on Friday, I feel more defeated than I have in a very long time. I tend to be a natural born caregiver. Growing up (and no I’m not complaining, just stating facts) I had to be the adult at times. At times I take on more than I should, but I want to be able to do it all for the people I love and care about. But, I also wish during times like these that the people around me understood how incredibly hard and draining this situation with my girl is. There are nights where I want to go to bed at 6PM and honestly I need to. I’m not good at raising my white flag and admitting I feel defeated. Right now I feel so completely selfish and I HATE THAT. I hate that I feel like I am sabotaging my health and other personal relationships to keep my girl safe. I don’t want to resent my girl and her mental health issues. I guess I wish more of the people around me understood that. I wish they could see me silently screaming from the inside. But I try to smile and keep up a fake front, so it’s really my flaw and issue to deal with.

I have a bay window in my dining room FILLED with glass balls, all different sizes, shapes and colors. I love that window. It makes me happy. I keep having a dream where all the balls start falling and breaking. It starts slowly and as I am running to the window to try and save them, they start falling faster and faster. I have no control or power to stop them from falling and breaking and I can never replace them. Of course I know what this means, I’m not a complete idiot.

As a society, there is so much information shoved down our throats about practicing self-care, putting yourself first. But is that really possible? To truly and honestly take care of myself, right now, the first thing I would need to do is quit my job. Why? Because five days a week, for nine hours a day I am surrounded by what my life is like at home with my girl. I may or may not have mentioned at one point that I work in a police department office. I’m currently in my 31st year. My hours at work are filled with reminders. The domestic calls. The little spats that after a few months turn into violent assaults. The mental health calls, people threatening suicide, attempting suicide, committing suicide. Every day it surrounds me – at home, and at work – all the time “it” is in my face and in my head. It’s too much and it’s overwhelming. What happens when I quit my job of 31 years and the salary and benefits that come with it stop? I create another stress. Money isn’t everything, but living in this world isn’t free. I need the health benefits. I don’t have a huge pension waiting for me when I can’t continue to work. I need to work or find a way to become independently wealthy. I don’t take tropical vacations, hell I don’t take vacations period. The leave time I have benefits not only me, but my family as well. I am permitted to use my time for family related issues. My girl currently being a family related issue that takes up quite a bit of my leave time. And of course the health benefits that help pay for all the various treatments, doctor appointments, and medications for my girl are invaluable at this time. So, what do I do?

I have not participated in any physical activity that is for my health in over a year. That is all on me and it makes me so fucking mad at myself. In December of 2011, I had gastric bypass surgery. At the time I was just a bit over the 300 pound mark. It was something that I did for me and it was a decision I have not regretted. It was hard, but I did it. At my lowest I was down to almost 140. But that was just not maintainable and I honestly did not like the way I looked. Yes, I could fit into a size I never was in before, but there is more to me than a size – right? I felt very comfortable with myself and my body around 170. I have exceeded that weight over the last 8 months.

One thing I found out about myself going through the gastric bypass journey, food is a comfort to me. It started as a kid. I’m not blaming anyone, that is just the way it was growing up. All emotions and feelings are wrapped around food, happiness, sadness, loss, pain – eat and it will be OK. I also grew up with a sister who always thin and beautiful. That is not her fault and I’m in no way blaming her for my issues, but my family had a way to constantly compare me to her – as far as our physical shape. Anyway, food has again become a comfort. I eat when I’m not hungry. I eat things I know I shouldn’t. I am the only one who can control what goes into my body and I’m failing myself.

As I fail myself in controlling my weight, I find myself revisiting the old feelings of body image issues. I already talked about one of my issues, that of constantly comparing myself to my sister. However, I know it goes deeper than that. Here is one of my dark little secrets.

I know it was a Saturday night in 1984, I was 14. I know it was a Saturday night because I was up late watching Saturday Night Live. If I close my eyes I can picture the living room. I can describe in detail where the sofa, TV, chairs, and plants were. I can see the pattern of the sofa and the color of the carpet. Anyway, a family friend stopped at the house. I was the only one awake, my mom was upstairs asleep and my sister was probably out with friends. I’m not sure exactly how the person became a family friend, but he was around quite a bit. He was 21 or 22 at the time. That would be 7 or 8 years older than me. I assume the door to the house was unlocked because my sister wasn’t home yet. At the time I don’t remember it seeming odd that he stopped by the house that late. Now, I find it very odd. This was someone I always felt very comfortable with. Never got a creepy vibe. Probably considered him like an older brother or uncle type person. I knew at that time that he had a thing for my sister, but she was in no way interested in him. Back to the story. I was laying down on the sofa watching SNL. He came in and sat down on the sofa, closest to my head (I was laying on my stomach). For a little while we just watched TV. At some point his arm/hand end up on my back area. And then he decided to show me his penis and what a penis does. While he is jerking off right in front of my face, his hand works down my back to my ass and under my PJ’s and he starts touching me in places he should never have touched. When he was “finished” he left. Why didn’t I jump up and scream, why did I let it happen, why didn’t I tell my mom? I was scared, I was confused, I was hurt.

Guess what the one thing my 14 year old brain took from that incident? I didn’t need to be skinny or beautiful to get attention. I found out I had other “things” that boys wanted and it didn’t matter if my “things” were covered in a layer or two of fat. This made the 14 year old feel wanted, needed and comforted. Fortunately, my soul mate came into my life a few years later and showed me he could love me for me and not my “things”. There are times I still struggle with body image. I think I felt more comfortable being naked at 300 pounds with my husband than I do now. But he knows that and loves me anyway.

I feel like I am now totally off topic! Sorry about that. I think the purpose of this post is just to give whoever is reading this a little background on me and how all that happens in our lives effects us forever and shapes us mentally, emotionally and physically. So while I face my everyday stresses and struggles, I tend to revert back to old practices of comfort. I am trying change. I will continue to try for all the people I love and care about. I need to be the best me I can be. I owe myself that.

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.

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.

Tough Love Sucks

December 30th was our worst tough love day. We have been struggling with when we needed to make some changes regarding the relationship with our girl and setting boundaries. There was a letter written to send to her. It would be impossible to talk to her in person because of her quick fire responses. It touched on the car and the fact it needed to be returned to us, unless she was able to put it in her name and pay insurance. She needs to find a home for, or take her cat. She needs to respect our home and clean the trash out of her room and the bathroom. And the last thing, our home would not be used as her dumping point. She needed to decide where she was going to be living. The letter reassured her that we love her, want and need her in our lives and when she is ready to get help we will be behind her.

The letter never was sent. We were going to send it the week after Thanksgiving. The day we were going to send it she had a huge breakdown. It wasn’t a good day for her or us. Later that week she had another huge fight with drippy dick and called in crisis mode. We decided to wait until after Christmas, probably because we were terrified what would happen after we gave it to her.

Christmas was……………awkward. Her being in the house is awkward at this point. I don’t know what to talk to her about. What do I ask her? I don’t know what her day to day life consists of. I don’t know where she is or what she does. Christmas Eve she was with us and hung out us th some special friends. Christmas morning she woke up early and left to spend time with drippy dick and his family before our family came to our house. I was actually surprised she came home in time and was in a good mood. The day wasn’t awful, but we (my husband and I) could sense the un-comfortableness that happened at times.

The day after Christmas, towards evening, we could tell she was getting ready to leave. As we were talking she said “we will be back tomorrow.” I asked what she meant. She told me that he (drippy dick) had presents for us. I’m fairly certain my head spun in circles and my response was to say “no, that’s not happening.” She got defensive and nasty saying he did it because he isn’t a dick and left the house saying she would tell him to return everything. As she was driving she was messaging me via Facebook Messenger. More about drippy and the presents. I tried to explain I didn’t understand the present thing. She kept insisting that he was trying to be nice and fix things. I responded that it’s a conversation we need to have in person. Within probably five minutes after the messenger exchange with my girl, I get a Facebook message from drippy dick. This is what I received…

“At this point I couldn’t give 2 hoots that you don’t like me, and you have all this resentment towards me. You have expressed nothing but dislike and hatred towards me when all I’ve sought from you was expectance. I’m no angel I’m fully aware of that, but I am trying to mend a broken relationship between you both and myself especially heather and I. I purchased you gifts even though you both didn’t deserve it and I didn’t have to. Why because that’s the type of person I really am I don’t seek conflict I don’t want to have issues with the smith family. I wanted to show you that I want to take a step closer to you not apart, by looking for things you would like spending not only my money but precious time. I know you have a fondness for Star Wars and hot wheels Mr. Smith. I know you like The Wizard Of Oz and Woppers candy Mrs. Smith so I purchased you both something. I didn’t just spend time and money though I swallowed my pride and humbled myself to bring a ray of light into what we have going on as best as possible and it was denied? How can we ever learn to atleast agree to disagree when your acting like a child? Your daughter isn’t going anywhere, one day she will be my wife and bare my children. Your actions will be greatly considered when you are asking to see YOUR GRANDCHILD. I will NOT have a child around such nonsense barbaric negativity it’s a shame and pathetic! Merry Christmas to you both and a happy new year if you will even accept my verbal salutation of peace…”

Yes, drippy thinks of himself as quite the eloquent gentleman. For some reason this just cut through me. It really hit me hard. Not what he thinks of me, but what is my girl doing with someone like this. How doesn’t she see the pathetic person he is? I did not respond to his message. I wanted to, but he isn’t worth it.

I received texts from her shortly after getting the message from drippy asking me what it would take for her and I to get back to where we once were, should she leave him, etc. My responses were that I can’t make that decision for her, we love her and she has to decide what she wants out of life, etc. Now, remember, she started contacting me in messenger and then switched to texting me. Drippy messaged me probably 15 minutes into her drive. No one will convince me drippy doesn’t have access to her facebook and can see every message between us. However, he doesn’t yet have access to her text messages. She doesn’t want him to see her asking me about leaving him and wanting to repair our relationship.

Fast-forward to December 30th. My husband and I are at the store and I get a message from my girl that she will be home soon. While at the store our cameras alerted to motion in the driveway. I checked what was happening and see our girl is home. Oddly enough she is backed up our driveway. She never backs up the driveway. I immediately tell my husband and my prediction that something is wrong with her car and she parked that way hoping we wouldn’t see it. We got home, and sure enough the driver side front fender had a nice dent in it. As well as the passenger side having two nice scuffs. It looks like someone kicked the car. I would have to assume during one of the fights drippy kicked her car.

We walked in the house and she was in her room. I yelled up the steps and asked what happened to her car. Her response was a very assy “what are you talking about?”. This went back and forth a few times. She claimed she had no idea and why wouldn’t she tell us, etc…. However, she never went out and looked at her car….. Through the conversation she was told the car would be staying parked in our driveway. She walked away mumbling “fucking fantastic”.

The day continued, I had no idea she was going to be home and made arrangements for my middle son and his wife to eat dinner with us. We also had our granddaughter. I had no idea how my girl would be or even if she would come out of her room to eat and see her brother and niece. She did come out of her room and eat with us. After dinner she said she was going to take a shower. Our son and daughter-in-law left, and we were getting our granddaughter ready to take home. I get a message from my girl (yes, she was only upstairs) asking if she is allowed to go. I asked her to come downstairs and talk to us. She came down and I asked her what happened to the car, she still claimed she didn’t know. I told her the car stays here. She starts slamming around the house saying she’ll have drippy come and get her and just being mean in general. She decides she has to get out of the house and tells us she is going for a walk, along with some smart-ass comments about the car. I decide I will take the baby home and my husband stayed at our house as a just in case.

As I’m driving my baby home my middle son texts saying that my girl is messaging and calling them and she wants them to pick her up, etc. Mind you, both our sons live within about 2-3 minutes of our home. I drop baby off at her house and when I get home my son’s car is parked out front. Walk in and she my husband but no one else, and then I hear the yelling from upstairs. I walk up and my girl is wild, scary wild. She has garbage bags and is cleaning up the trash from the bathroom and her bedroom. Her brother is trying to talk to her, but at this point there is no talking to her. I have seen the rage and wildness before, but never to this extent. Her brother has never seen it. My girl was talking about killing herself and doing it right this time. I said if that is where she is at she needs to go to the hospital. She freaked and said if I ever do that to her again I will never see her. She continues in her rage. Making all sorts of comments about having to get out of the house and leaving. I asked her if there is anything in her car she needs and she tells me to fucking burn it all, she doesn’t care, etc. I said okay, then give me the keys. Now she completely exploded in rage. She threw the keys at my face, I ducked and the keys took a chunk of wood out of the door trim. My son pushed me out of the way and got in her face telling her not to touch me. She punched him in the chest and stormed out telling everyone to get the fuck away from her. My husband tried to stop her and she told him to fuck off and get the fuck away from her. She stormed out saying she would find someone to pick her up.

We all stood in the kitchen in amazement and disbelief, but knowing we did what we had to do. My girl came back in about five minutes later, all while talking to drippy on speaker phone, went to her room and came right back down and went back outside. We moved to the family room and she came back in and said she needs things from her car and needs her keys. My husband had taken them to the basement to hide them. When she saw him going to the she told us how pathetic we were by hiding her keys and some other nasty things, again all while drippy is on speaker phone. She got the keys, took stuff out of her car and threw them back in the door and told us to have a nice life. Someone picked her up and that was that.

She did TEXT me later that night.

It just saddens my how her brain works and how her thought process works or doesn’t work. I have to remind myself and others that her brain is messed up. It is not an excuse for her, it’s the truth. She is the only one that can decide she wants the help and then accept the help.

I don’t know when I will see her again or how she is doing. I haven’t gotten many messages from her at this point. I am worried and I am scared.