I don't even want to admit it. But my daughter is back home. After blowing it here, blowing it at my parent's and blowing it at her boyfriend's. She needed to get out and moving her stuff out of his house meant sleeping here. Which meant being here, because her stuff is here. Which means now she's here. And we're idiots or gluttons for punishment. I'm not sure. She has not been allowed to live here for over a year. It was horrible, horrific before when she was here. Then she was in jail, tx, jail, residential tx, and all in between she was at my parent's because we knew our family needed the break and we put our foot down. Can't follow the rules - you're done. We have other growing children, a marriage and our own sanity and health to think about. So last week I was sick on the couch and that's when she came. Things have changed while staying the same. We don't allow her in the house right now without us being here. She has to come with or get out. No drama forced on our other kids while we aren't here to protect them. Every night she leaves, at least for a bit. I don't know if she gets high or what, but it's been going on forever. If she can't pop some Benedryl or sleeping pill, she goes out. She has a hard time sleeping and the anxiety is too much for her. So I hid all of that stuff. But will she go see a real doctor? Goodness no!!! It's stressful. It's 50/50. When she's not here it is less stressful because I don't have the constant babysitting that I do when she's here, but I worry. So with her here, at least I know where she is -- some of the time. But parameters and follow-thru is A LOT OF WORK. I'm sure you all know this. But it's exhausting, and I feel like it takes away from everyone else, which I do not like. I feel like I'm running a half-way house with her here. Like I'm doing Residential Care for her. I've been so much training myself in living the day-to-day that I feel like I'm whittling my life away. And now here we are again. Bah.