Here I thought difficult child was doing so much better - more grounded in reality. She's back to herself, telling therapist that I'm abusive and neglectful. You should hear her list of reasons. If I wasn't so frustrated and angry with it all, I would laugh. Things like: She has to feed the cats and scoop the litter boxes (the litter boxes she *never ever* does and feeding the cats consists of scooping dry food out of the bin and putting it into the bowls - whoever notices the bowls are empty does it and it takes 10 seconds tops) I took a vacation from parenting and I'm not allowed to do that because I have kids (when I went to my mom's last weekend and then I brought her down with me on Saturday night - by the way, the only respite I've had in over a year and a half) I only do her laundry when she has nothing else to wear and then I make her bring in my clothes to, and she has to fold all the clothes (notice that I *do* her laundry, I don't keep track of when she needs it done; that's her job. I ask her to bring mine in, too, while I'm sorting hers. And she has folded laundry maybe 6 times in the last 3 years.) She has to make my bed and turn off my light (I have had her *help* me change the sheets on my bed maybe 3 times in the last 3 years because it is one of the most painful things I can do. And turning off the light? That's when she's been in my room for several hours in the wee hours of the morning doing her angst thing and she finally goes back to her room. I'm in bed. She can get the light on the way out as it is RIGHT NEXT to the door.) There isn't food she likes in the house (I spend at least 75% of my grocery money on food specifically for her to accommodate her semi-vegetarian diet. Her freaking organic milk is $6.00 a gallon and she goes through at least a gallon a week. Usually more. And that's just one item.) Etc, ad nauseum. And I think about all of the things I have done for her. All of the accommodations *I* have made for her, all of the advocating I have done, all of the defending. And I want to throw up. I don't even want to look at her.