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I am sad and desperate and hopeless again
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<blockquote data-quote="New Leaf" data-source="post: 745786" data-attributes="member: 19522"><p>Copa, I am so sorry for your troubled heart. It has been a while since I have posted,trying to sort things out and have been in survival mode. The holidays pretty much magnify feelings and my situation with my two.</p><p>I do know that it is important not to abandon ourselves when we feel every second of our beloveds waywardness. Heavy it is upon our hearts and minds. It can be suffocating.</p><p>The difficult part is that even though you have reached out to your son, it seems he cannot, or will not meet you even half way. I am sorry. The whole thing is bizarre. Reading through your post, I can’t help but shake the feeling that he is so clever in his texting, keeping you hanging on the edge of his words, pulling out the rug, tugging at your heart and hopes for him.</p><p>When does it end?</p><p>When they decide.</p><p>To want better for themselves.</p><p>What was the word RE used? Feral. Street life. Rain has been out there going on four years now. I haven’t seen her since September. It hurts. Some days more than others. There is not a damn thing I can do about it. Tornado was just released from prison again. She called and pleaded to “come home.” For a few days, she asked, I urged her to go to rehab. “I applied but there is no room. “There is no place for me to go Mom.”</p><p>I am swallowing that lump down with a big cup of guilt and sorrow.</p><p>But.......</p><p>Would she get help if she came here? I would be breaking my promise to my son if I brought her here. And, like you, the thought of having her here sends me into a ptsd panic, heart palpitations and short of breath, the whole nine yards. Those old memories flooding back. I don’t think I would survive another round, honestly.</p><p>Yet, the court released her the other day, to the streets. I called her public defender who flatly said she was released on Tuesday and “I don’t know where she is.”</p><p>Neither do I.</p><p>But, I can guess.</p><p>Living in this sort of limbo certainly takes its toll on our health and hearts. Just wanting the best for our beloveds, wanting that peace of mind for ourselves.</p><p></p><p>Wanting something that has absolutely nothing to do with us.</p><p></p><p>My son said something very simple the other day that is reverberating through my mind.</p><p></p><p>“It’s up to her, Mom.”</p><p></p><p>It certainly is.</p><p>Simple truth.</p><p>I wrote it down.</p><p>Then I wrote</p><p></p><p>It’s up to you.</p><p></p><p>I don’t want to spend the rest of my life anywhere near the rabbit hole. Not on the edge of it, or even from afar peering into it with binoculars.</p><p> Time and circumstance has to teach me that.</p><p></p><p>I have come damn near it, with Tornados contact from jail, her tugging at my heart strings, the lack of services because the system is overwhelmed with the epidemic of homeless addicts.</p><p>I find myself struggling with the insanity of it all, juggling work and bills and housekeeping, putting on daily living like a pair of jeans, then slipping in and out of the grief of the reality of having two completely lost adult daughters.</p><p></p><p>Rinse, repeat.</p><p>Trip, fall down, then rise.</p><p></p><p>Rise.</p><p>That’s up to me.</p><p>And you.</p><p></p><p>All of us, who are in this completely insane debacle of dealing with wayward adult children.</p><p>I don’t think we would be human if we didn’t feel sad and desperate and hopeless from time to time. It is a tough road we walk.</p><p>Sigh.</p><p>But, we are tough too.</p><p>Wishing you better days, dear friend.</p><p>As you work to switch focus, so am I.</p><p>Keep on keepin on.</p><p>(((Hugs)))</p><p>Leafy</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="New Leaf, post: 745786, member: 19522"] Copa, I am so sorry for your troubled heart. It has been a while since I have posted,trying to sort things out and have been in survival mode. The holidays pretty much magnify feelings and my situation with my two. I do know that it is important not to abandon ourselves when we feel every second of our beloveds waywardness. Heavy it is upon our hearts and minds. It can be suffocating. The difficult part is that even though you have reached out to your son, it seems he cannot, or will not meet you even half way. I am sorry. The whole thing is bizarre. Reading through your post, I can’t help but shake the feeling that he is so clever in his texting, keeping you hanging on the edge of his words, pulling out the rug, tugging at your heart and hopes for him. When does it end? When they decide. To want better for themselves. What was the word RE used? Feral. Street life. Rain has been out there going on four years now. I haven’t seen her since September. It hurts. Some days more than others. There is not a damn thing I can do about it. Tornado was just released from prison again. She called and pleaded to “come home.” For a few days, she asked, I urged her to go to rehab. “I applied but there is no room. “There is no place for me to go Mom.” I am swallowing that lump down with a big cup of guilt and sorrow. But....... Would she get help if she came here? I would be breaking my promise to my son if I brought her here. And, like you, the thought of having her here sends me into a ptsd panic, heart palpitations and short of breath, the whole nine yards. Those old memories flooding back. I don’t think I would survive another round, honestly. Yet, the court released her the other day, to the streets. I called her public defender who flatly said she was released on Tuesday and “I don’t know where she is.” Neither do I. But, I can guess. Living in this sort of limbo certainly takes its toll on our health and hearts. Just wanting the best for our beloveds, wanting that peace of mind for ourselves. Wanting something that has absolutely nothing to do with us. My son said something very simple the other day that is reverberating through my mind. “It’s up to her, Mom.” It certainly is. Simple truth. I wrote it down. Then I wrote It’s up to you. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life anywhere near the rabbit hole. Not on the edge of it, or even from afar peering into it with binoculars. Time and circumstance has to teach me that. I have come damn near it, with Tornados contact from jail, her tugging at my heart strings, the lack of services because the system is overwhelmed with the epidemic of homeless addicts. I find myself struggling with the insanity of it all, juggling work and bills and housekeeping, putting on daily living like a pair of jeans, then slipping in and out of the grief of the reality of having two completely lost adult daughters. Rinse, repeat. Trip, fall down, then rise. Rise. That’s up to me. And you. All of us, who are in this completely insane debacle of dealing with wayward adult children. I don’t think we would be human if we didn’t feel sad and desperate and hopeless from time to time. It is a tough road we walk. Sigh. But, we are tough too. Wishing you better days, dear friend. As you work to switch focus, so am I. Keep on keepin on. (((Hugs))) Leafy [/QUOTE]
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