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<blockquote data-quote="New Leaf" data-source="post: 763260" data-attributes="member: 19522"><p>Hi Newstart,</p><p>Thank you for your loving response.</p><p></p><p>I wish I could write good news or growth about my two. I am hoping that these stints in rehab will one day open my daughters heart and mind. I so appreciate your kind thoughts and prayers. I hate that this is still happening as well. It is definitely a shock to the soul to witness it up close and personal. I was watching some reels from Instagram about addiction, the man that posts goes down to an encampment in Pennsylvania and films the people who live there, not to shame, he says, but to educate. A lot of the stories the homeless share are pretty traumatic, awful childhoods, devastating loss, etc. Some of them talk about family disowning them, “They won’t help me, they have money and addictions of their own…….”.</p><p>I guess I am trying to look at this from the other side? Maybe it’s a form of self inflicted torture, I don’t know, I just can’t wrap my head around the degraded living my two accept as a consequence. </p><p>I have to stop myself from dwelling on something that I have no control over. I am thinking of Doris Day singing “Ke Sera, Sera.” Geez, the places the mind goes to cover over deep wounds. But I have to redirect. It’s survival mode. I don’t want to just survive, Newstart, I want to live. You know? I’m not getting any younger. </p><p>There’s a truck that drives around the area that I spot every so often because of a big sticker on the back windshield.</p><p>It says “DAMN KIDS!”</p><p>Yup, damn kids. Well, adult kids. </p><p>Ugh!</p><p>Leaf</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="New Leaf, post: 763260, member: 19522"] Hi Newstart, Thank you for your loving response. I wish I could write good news or growth about my two. I am hoping that these stints in rehab will one day open my daughters heart and mind. I so appreciate your kind thoughts and prayers. I hate that this is still happening as well. It is definitely a shock to the soul to witness it up close and personal. I was watching some reels from Instagram about addiction, the man that posts goes down to an encampment in Pennsylvania and films the people who live there, not to shame, he says, but to educate. A lot of the stories the homeless share are pretty traumatic, awful childhoods, devastating loss, etc. Some of them talk about family disowning them, “They won’t help me, they have money and addictions of their own…….”. I guess I am trying to look at this from the other side? Maybe it’s a form of self inflicted torture, I don’t know, I just can’t wrap my head around the degraded living my two accept as a consequence. I have to stop myself from dwelling on something that I have no control over. I am thinking of Doris Day singing “Ke Sera, Sera.” Geez, the places the mind goes to cover over deep wounds. But I have to redirect. It’s survival mode. I don’t want to just survive, Newstart, I want to live. You know? I’m not getting any younger. There’s a truck that drives around the area that I spot every so often because of a big sticker on the back windshield. It says “DAMN KIDS!” Yup, damn kids. Well, adult kids. Ugh! Leaf [/QUOTE]
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