Last night difficult child and I went to look at a rental for her. She has to be out of where she is because the roommate is unpredictable and irrational due to a long term Valium addiction. In my opinion, the rental was perfect, difficult child and the homeowner got along famously, it's a beautiful home with gorgeous gardens, bright light, open floor plan, it would be a safe haven for her and a definite big step up out of the environments she has been living in for the past couple of years. Then the subject of cats arises, four cats are just not going to work. Previous to going to look at the rental, she and I were on the phone and she was really upset with me since I said, "this rental may work but the cats will be a problem." I always say that. She told me I just didn't understand that her cats are her family and she is just NOT going anywhere without them. I thought back to the recent therapy session where the therapist and I discussed acceptance. Acceptance is not about what I want, what I think is best, what I would do, what the "right" thing to do is. Acceptance is allowing another to do what they wish without me wishing, hoping, knowing, figuring it out, planning, or doing anything other then recognizing that the other is doing the best they know how and whatever their choice is, it is what it is. We discussed love and the ideal being that when you love someone, you accept who they are, warts and all. It made me think that I have often not accepted my difficult child. Of course, it could certainly be argued that she lives an insane life and I am right in my assessment. But, it is her life, not mine, and even if I think it insane, she is the one who has to live her own truth. This has been very hard for me to grasp. My being 'right' has always been uppermost in my mind. However, somehow I got it last night. We were driving home after seeing the rental and she was talking about another place she is going to look at today. Instead of my feeling angry at her for her decision to keep the cats, I realized that she has to live within the world that she has created. What I think of that is essentially irrelevant, it's not my world, it's never been my world. And, I not only felt okay about it, I felt really good. I have to trust that she will find her way. She may be living in her car once again, She may go back to jail. She may get hurt or worse. That is her fate. I've let go. The hardest thing I've ever had to do. I woke up today without the usual presence of dread. For a long time, my first thought in the morning has been, "oh God, what is difficult child up to today, is she okay, is she safe, is someone hurting her", on and on it goes, my litany of worry. Let go and let God. That's what all the 12 step programs teach. Somehow in the last 6 months, through all the heartache, all the pain, the endless concern and all that worry, my difficult child slipped into God's hands, a way better place to be then in mine. The weight of her life is now off my shoulders.