This is going to be a rambling mess, so my apologies. I am so spent. So exhausted. So worn out. My difficult child 1 has Conduct Disorder and Type 1 Diabetes. A disease that can kill her in the short term or cause her to lose major body parts in the long term. It is hard enough to parent a child with antisocial/psychopathic tendencies, but to have one with this disease is a daily battle in keeping her from harming herself or killing herself, because she doesn't want to do something or she simply wants to win. difficult child 1 doesn't take on any responsibility in her care. Never has. The more her medical team addresses this problem the more she tries to screw things up. I finally had to ask them to stop, because it was actually making things worse not better. This is what has me numb: She woke up this morning feeling sick to her stomach. Nausea and vomiting are a BIG no-no for diabetics. It actually has the possibility of throwing them in a coma and killing them. When she says she is ill, I have to believe her, although a lot of the time she is faking it just see me fret, I'm afraid. I kept her home from school, even though she never behaved as if she were sick. I had to, because if she was sick, she wouldn't do what she needed to do to make sure she didn't get sicker. She ate lunch and all her snacks fine, so I made delicious quesadillas for dinner. She gave herself her insulin, walked to the table saw it was quesadillas and said she felt sick. I told her I'm not falling for that just sit down and eat it. She refused. She is sitting there with insulin in her body and no carbs to cover it. A very dangerous situation that makes her feel like ****, by the way. But did she eat it? Nope. She, as usual, just sat there silently. I told her the choice was hers. She could eat or not eat. She chose not to eat. That's right. She chose possible death over a quesadilla. It wasn't a suicidal move; it was purely a move of defiance. I told her it is always so important that she wins, even when the cost hurts her and no one else. It is always this way. I let her go to her room, and as she walked away I told her on her headstone I'm going to engrave "I won." (I know I couldn't believe I said that either.) I have a baby monitor in my room so I can hear if she calls out in the night, so I sat and listened for a few minutes to make sure she was ok. Because I was über mad, I had my husband test her sugar and give her carbs in juice form. I am testing through the night to be safe, and I worry she will wake up "dead in bed", every diabetic's parents' nightmare. She wouldn't care; she won. Sadly, this will not be the last time this will happen. This is her M.O. in all aspects of her life, so why should it be different here? She will get more defiant and covertly aggressive at home and conversely will become the more perfect child to the outside world. All so she can more easily get away with her bad. I'm tired of it all. Tired, tired, tired.