In the Darkness, an Appearance.......

New Leaf

Well-Known Member
I continued working on rebuilding this weekend, slowly coming round from the latest incident and downward spiral resulting from my reaction to my daughters' current ongoing situation.

She appears to me in the darkness of my dreams.
Faded memories of long ago.

I listened again to the songs I posted, sad melodies wove slowly through my heart,
forlorn.

I broke down and let the tears flow.
I needed to have a good cry.

I said a prayer in between sobs,
salty tears met my quivering lips
forming the words.
God,
please
help her
.

Trying to take one day at a time, struggling and praying for her, for me, to be stronger, kinder, better, something-er, the heavy load of it finally culminated into another migraine,
I recognized the telltale aura and swallowed a couple of tylenol
reluctantly
and rested.
At least it did not go into a full blown three day ordeal.

My body is trying to tell me something, and the hammering heart beat in my head forces me to listen.
So much to do, so little time........slow down.....take it one moment at a time.

In between the normal everyday life chores, work and incidentals,
the weight of this,
this
.
Between sighs.
Sometimes, one day at a time, turns to one agonizing minute, one breath at a time.......


Shake it off, sleep it off, wake it off.

I know that helping is not helping.
One step forward, two steps back.
One step forward, a half step back.

The emotions I go through with this.
Walking the tight rope at the edge of the abyss.
Lifting up a bit here, and there.
Inching forward.
Finding balance, then a little wobble.

Trying to reach radical acceptance is no small feat.

I read articles about loving detachment, codependence, then I wonder to myself about that.
I am not upside down all of the time with.... this.
I have my good days and bad.
The emptiness, I push away.
The racing thoughts, I remand them to rest a bit.
Encaged in the corners of my mind.
Thoughts awaiting their day in court.

The sunlight bids me carry on.

But this, it looms at times,
a cloud around me,
other times I am able to find some respite from this.
A faded rainbow.
Glimmers of hope wafting within the colors.


As a mother, how could I not be effected by the trials and tribulations that my adult children face?
Does this make me codependent to have feelings, reactions that parallel the drama, to have to work on myself and process what my children go through, codependent......or does it make me....human?

We are naturally emotion bound to our children, we love them- being their parent never ends, yes, there is an end to "parenting", but we are forever their parents.

Our children are out there, our beloveds dealing with whatever they deal with,
this.
Whether they are doing well, or not so well, they will always be in our hearts.

This,

feelings teeter tottering,
back and forth.
The endless wondering
and
work at first,
recognizing this.
Finally realizing that I cannot deal with this.

This
much I know

that I cannot help my girls by having them live with me.

This

just
does
not
work.

That was a time of darkness and drama and chaos within my home.

Leave they had to......stay out, they must.


Then the real work begins,
as the horror of them living with us fades
into the horror of not knowing what and why and how they are doing,
to the sudden unexpected calls, or dark appearances,
where there is no sense to be made out of the visit,
no relief.
The reports of relatives and siblings.

This.


To work through all of this while trying to eek out an ordinary life.
Day by day, hour, by hour, minute, by minute.
Some days fly by,
others drag out,
or come to a screeching halt
as reality,
this
unfolds,
into another story,
drama, untold.

I have been busy going to school at nights after a long days work.
Driving past the place where Hoku dropped off Rain,
driving past three nights a week.
The emptiness I push away fights back from my innards.

I can feel her near.

Driving past the area scanning the sidewalks, darkened figures walking
catch my eye,
I wonder if one of them could be my daughter,
wonder
this night
and this night
and this night
as my hands grip the steering wheel
tight,
is she is okay?

The knot growing tighter in my stomach.
I circled around that block a few nights ago, looking for her.
A small residential area in between businesses, an old library.
The homeless have been removed from the parks,
there are makeshift lean to's and tarps cropping up in the nearby surround.

This
is where my daughter has lived.

I look and see a few tents here and there, no sight of Rain.
Thursday night.
Half sad, and half relieved, I go home,
and wearily lay my head upon my pillow,
praying that God watch over her and keep her.
I drift off into a restless sleep, and dream of her.
The her I remember.
The smiling, laughing her.
Friday morn.
Roosters crow jolts me awake, and I feel as if I did not sleep at all.
I shake off the cobwebs and go to clay class, mechanically rolling out slabs of clay,
working through feelings as the gray earth takes shape before me.
An owl forms, I build eyes, a beak.
It will stand guard upon the wall over my garden.
Gazing.
A sentinel.
Saturday, this day, the emptiness turns to a pain invading my head.
I reluctantly take to my bed.
Wake up in the late afternoon.
A day wasted, I think to myself.
Light of day fades to dark.
Sat down at the computer in the evening listening to a Karen Armstrong Ted Talk about compassion,
the golden rule.
Thank you Cedar, a fascinating woman, as are you.
Brilliant.
I looked over at my son and smiled,
his eyes grew large and he made a motion to the window behind me,
I turned around,
and there she was peering in.

In the darkness, an appearance.

I am startled, say a small prayer take in a shallow breath, then deeper.
Be calm my thoughts, be still my heart.
I go to the door.

Rain was with a male friend, they were both on bikes, backpacks full.
I see people all over the city riding bikes with full backpacks,
I know they are homeless, this is their "uniform".

There are many, many homeless people here on Oahu.

She is clean, hair done, her friend looks a little rough around the edges,
not unkempt,
but I can tell he has lived a longer life than his years.

I wonder if this is the guy that beats her, and purse my lips at the thought.

He is not.

She tells me the police picked the abusive guy up.
I am glad and I tell her so.

Rain is quite beautiful.
She looks nothing like me, the blood of her fathers ancestors overruled mine and formed strong Hawaiian features in my girl, broad shoulders, tall, big brown eyes and cocoa skinned, her smile reflects the moon of thousands upon thousands of years. Her people were navigators, crossing the oceans while others believed the earth to be flat. Star people, gazed up into the black sky, found compass points to travel the seas and knew with a certainty by mapping those brilliant constellations, the roundness of the globe.
Ancient travelers.
Perhaps she has inherited the restlessness.

I make them something to eat, a cup of coffee.
I ask for a hug.
Holding her close, I breathe her in and close my eyes, yearning for better nights and days.
I tell her I love her and that she has her whole life ahead of her.
I don't press about shelters, just listen to small talk.
She realizes she cannot fix this guy.
She says.

Her father brings out an extra light we have and affixes it to her bike.
A gesture,
a small token,
a symbol,
let the light guide you through the dark nights.

She talks about having to go to court.
Gave our mailing address for her State insurance, the hospital had her sign up the night she ended up there.
I tell her that I was paralyzed when Hoku texted me, she said they released her anyway.
Shrugging it off.

Evenly and slowly the words come out,
from me
that she has value and worth and doesn't deserve to be mistreated.
I say to please look forward.
She looks down.

I pray these words envelope her
stay close to her
resound and reverberate.

There is so much more that I want to say,
but I stop myself, because she already knows these things.
She knows.....this.

She says good bye and they go back down the road in the dark,
from whence they came,
to where,
I do not know.

Her shadow stretches up the driveway and reaches for mine.

What a strange world I am living in.
The nights are long and restless then
another day speeds forward.

I am going over my life,
as I go on with my life.
Reviewing past
living now
striving to be present.
The aches and pains of my weathered body
reveal the ache in my heart.
My time on this earth has shortened.
I must go on.
Despite
this.


I am feeling.....relieved that she looks okay.
Hopeful, that she tries to work her way to a better place.

I am in the in between.

A place reserved for mothers like me who go through this up and down and all around world of worry, fear, numbness, anger, grief, recovery.
Rise, stumble, fall.
Climbing the mountain before me, slipping at the rough spots, regaining my footing, one foot forward, hanging on to find the next hand hold, a foot hold.

I think of the photos I have seen of mountain climbers harnessed to the cliff in cocoon like hammocks suspended thousands of feet above the ground.

Do they sleep well?

The in between.

I am thankful to have seen her.
I am thankful that this time, she seemed.....more rational, her mannerisms a bit lighter,
not the heavy, sullen angry version, I last saw.

It is a small blessing, but I will take it.

I will keep praying that she find her way, as I try to find mine.

I will fold up my hammock, and work my way up the mountain.
Visualizing her as the captain of her ancient sailing canoe, navigating her way through life.

Perhaps, if I reach the top of the mountain, I will catch a glimpse of her white sails stretched taut capturing the winds of change, flying swiftly upon the jewel toned sea, towards the horizon to find new beginnings.
waa.jpg

It is a new day, and the journey continues.

leafy
 

Kalahou

Well-Known Member
~ Thoughts are with you, Leaf.
Giving thanks with you for another small step.
I will keep praying that she find her way, as I try to find mine.
This is good. Rain is navigating her way.
Stay the course as your own way-finder also ~ one day at a time.

As you (we all) make this difficult journey, you learn to feel the current and swells beneath you, holding you and moving you forward, with change of the winds, reading the stars as they appear in the darkness and change in position.

~ Mau told Nainoa once, "If you can read the ocean, you will never be lost."~

Leafy ~ you are never lost ~ journeying in unknown places, to new unknown horizons, just means you reach a new place ~ and journey on again from there ~ a new beginning is ahead.

You are in my pule today. Alo - HA. Sharing breath.
Malama pono, dear. Bless.
Kalahou
 
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New Leaf

Well-Known Member
Mahalo nui Kalahou, as you are in my prayers.
~ Mau told Nainoa once, "If you can read the ocean, you will never be lost."~

Leafy ~ you are never lost ~ journeying in unknown places, to new unknown horizons, just means you reach a new place ~ and journey on from there ~ a new beginning is ahead.
Yes, never lost, just seeking peace.

After I wrote this thread, the phone rang, a detective working on Rains case. I asked him if I could speak with him a moment. Talked of Rain and her life led now, wondered why this man has been set free in the past, let loose to continue to stalk my daughter. He said that they are but cogs in the system, it is up to the judges to sentence offenders. If victims do not come forward and follow through, it is difficult to gather evidence and present a case. I thanked him for continuing and holding on, waiting for Rain to contact him. He said he could have dropped the case, but hoped that she would call, somehow.
Another chapter. He was comforting and told me he understood how hard it is for me. He said that when adult children go down the wrong path, we often do not recognize them whether it be substance abuse or mental challenges, but they are in there somewhere. That my job and main concern was to be a mother to my young son and see that he find his way to become a responsible young adult.
I agreed.

Focus.

Focus on the guiding star I know to be true.
Focus on what is in my control.

Let the rest go upon the gentle breeze with my love, prayers and hopes.

The morning was rattled by the earthquake that shook and undulated as quickly as it came through the floorboards of my small house on out towards the sea.

The phone call from the detective......"I can only do so much", he said

"I can only do so much" said I.

The rest, is up to time and unforeseen circumstances.

Remain present, and be thankful for the gift of now.

The sun shines brightly, still.

(((HUGS)))
leafy
 

so ready to live

Well-Known Member
Focus.
Focus on the guiding star I know to be true.
Focus on what is in my control.
Let the rest go upon the gentle breeze with my love, prayers and hopes.

Leafy- so true. Heartfelt thank you for reminding us all today what is truly on "our side of the line" Just me. Just my focus. The rest (and there's alot of it at times) belongs to them and only them. It's so freeing when I can let go and get a glimpse of who I was in the past and see a shadow of what I hope for them in the future. It's hard to assimilate acceptance and yet hope. I have hope for a gentle breeze carrying our prayers for our sons and daughters, but tonight I'll be thankful for the gift of now. Prayers.
 

savior no more

Active Member
As a mother, how could I not be effected by the trials and tribulations that my adult children face?
Does this make me codependent to have feelings, reactions that parallel the drama, to have to work on myself and process what my children go through, codependent......or does it make me....human?

Touche!!! I related so well to this. The driving past places. Mine is the jail I don't drive by on my way to work everyday. I take another street now just so I don't have to look over and know he is there. At least I know where he is alive - rather than driving by the places where I tracked his phone last. Or hearing he was left to die after being beat up.

The thing that struck me so clearly is that in all of it your daughter still comes around looking for the "home" if but for some comfort there. I'm comforted that you can tolerate it. I understand when other's can't - but part of me feels comforted for her knowing you are there. Does that make sense? And I don't think that if you just denied her she would come to her senses. Just my opinion. I'm grateful she looked good. These are ways and times where hope can be seen in them doing good which can give us an image to hold on to when the unkown images of them in all sorts of harms way creep in.

Lovely poem and lovely writing. You should be published, but wonder if society could embrace such darkness and pain as that we walk?
 

RN0441

100% better than I was but not at 100% yet
Yes Leafy you need to publish! Beautiful story, beautifully shared.

I am so glad she came to see you; that is a positive move for all of you and love the way you handled it and shared your thoughts and feelings.

What a true gift to be able to find the words to do that!! And yes there are so many of "us" out there that suffer in silence and have not found their way or this forum. There definitely is an audience for this beautiful work!!
 

New Leaf

Well-Known Member
The thing that struck me so clearly is that in all of it your daughter still comes around looking for the "home" if but for some comfort there. I'm comforted that you can tolerate it. I understand when other's can't - but part of me feels comforted for her knowing you are there. Does that make sense? And I don't think that if you just denied her she would come to her senses.
SNM, I am only now able to do this. I am torn between the times she is defensive and downright mean towards me and times when she is more ......pleasant....or tolerable. Reading on loving detachment has helped and somewhat acceptance of the choices she makes. She has been offered information from authorities, police and hospitals of where to go for help. But, unfortunately is not ready. Well, I guess I am doing a bit better realizing this. It is still difficult, but with each encounter, sighting or story of her exploits, I find myself slipping a bit less and picking myself up a bit faster.

Lovely poem and lovely writing. You should be published, but wonder if society could embrace such darkness and pain as that we walk?
I am blushing. Thank you SNM. Writing has always been my way to sort through things. I have never really had anyone read too much of my work, so it is different here for me. Kind of a shaky, bold step to put it out here, really, but the feelings just sort of fall out of me somehow in a sort of rhythm, always have. I have never considered trying to publish......thank you. I have joined poetry.com recently and receive a poem a day via email. Some of them are quite unusual.....so I am thinking I might go through my old journals and take a shot at it......
Yes Leafy you need to publish! Beautiful story, beautifully shared.
Thank you RN. I am thinking of this. I do think there needs to be more out there so that people who have never gone through this can maybe understand. Thank you for your kind words and encouragement.
I am so glad she came to see you; that is a positive move for all of you and love the way you handled it and shared your thoughts and feelings.
RN, her coming here is always a bit strange and there is this odd anticipation of what the visit entails. I was not able to really come to this point until recently. She was coming over more regularly in the recent past, and hubs was offering her a shower, a bite to eat and doing her laundry. I was a bit distressed with this, thinking that it was not helping her, more enabling her to live her street lifestyle. I still feel this way.
I think it is okay once in a while, not habitually, it is almost the same as her living here, but with laundry service, if you know what I mean! We were beginning to look like a hotel with her coming weekly. Then, we wouldn't see her for awhile. It is those times I begin to wonder if she is still alive or not. I know, a terrible mindset to go to........
That said, I sincerely hope that she sees the love we have for her, and that she has so much more going for her than her choice to live on the streets.
One day, one step at a time.
Thank you so much for your kind response. I am very comforted with the love and caring felt here on CD. it is truly a soft place to land and I am grateful.

(((HUGS)))
leafy
 

pigless in VA

Well-Known Member
I agree, Leafy. I think your wonderful poem/post should be published. You are able to give words to the feelings of so many parents. You take your mother's pain and craft it into something ineffably beautiful. Thank you for sharing with us.
 

New Leaf

Well-Known Member
Thank you so much Pigless, you are very kind. I think all of us have the gift of sharing stories and touching others hearts and lives with caring and hugs.
Thank God for this soft place to land.
leafy
 

Albatross

Well-Known Member
Leafy, your writing is so beautiful and so haunting.

I am so glad she came to see you, to connect and to get that hug she wanted. How lovely and loving to share that moment.

What you said to her matters, though we may not see it.
 

New Leaf

Well-Known Member
Thank you Albie.
I put all of my might and good thoughts into that hug. Hopefully one day she will find herself.
Thank you Albie, I appreciate your kindness. I am feeling much better. One day at a time.
(((HUGS)))
leafy
 

mybleedingheart

New Member
I continued working on rebuilding this weekend, slowly coming round from the latest incident and downward spiral resulting from my reaction to my daughters' current ongoing situation.

She appears to me in the darkness of my dreams.
Faded memories of long ago.

I listened again to the songs I posted, sad melodies wove slowly through my heart,
forlorn.

I broke down and let the tears flow.
I needed to have a good cry.

I said a prayer in between sobs,
salty tears met my quivering lips
forming the words.
God,
please
help her
.

Trying to take one day at a time, struggling and praying for her, for me, to be stronger, kinder, better, something-er, the heavy load of it finally culminated into another migraine,
I recognized the telltale aura and swallowed a couple of tylenol
reluctantly
and rested.
At least it did not go into a full blown three day ordeal.

My body is trying to tell me something, and the hammering heart beat in my head forces me to listen.
So much to do, so little time........slow down.....take it one moment at a time.

In between the normal everyday life chores, work and incidentals,
the weight of this,
this
.
Between sighs.
Sometimes, one day at a time, turns to one agonizing minute, one breath at a time.......


Shake it off, sleep it off, wake it off.

I know that helping is not helping.
One step forward, two steps back.
One step forward, a half step back.

The emotions I go through with this.
Walking the tight rope at the edge of the abyss.
Lifting up a bit here, and there.
Inching forward.
Finding balance, then a little wobble.

Trying to reach radical acceptance is no small feat.

I read articles about loving detachment, codependence, then I wonder to myself about that.
I am not upside down all of the time with.... this.
I have my good days and bad.
The emptiness, I push away.
The racing thoughts, I remand them to rest a bit.
Encaged in the corners of my mind.
Thoughts awaiting their day in court.

The sunlight bids me carry on.

But this, it looms at times,
a cloud around me,
other times I am able to find some respite from this.
A faded rainbow.
Glimmers of hope wafting within the colors.


As a mother, how could I not be effected by the trials and tribulations that my adult children face?
Does this make me codependent to have feelings, reactions that parallel the drama, to have to work on myself and process what my children go through, codependent......or does it make me....human?

We are naturally emotion bound to our children, we love them- being their parent never ends, yes, there is an end to "parenting", but we are forever their parents.

Our children are out there, our beloveds dealing with whatever they deal with,
this.
Whether they are doing well, or not so well, they will always be in our hearts.

This,

feelings teeter tottering,
back and forth.
The endless wondering
and
work at first,
recognizing this.
Finally realizing that I cannot deal with this.

This
much I know

that I cannot help my girls by having them live with me.

This

just
does
not
work.

That was a time of darkness and drama and chaos within my home.

Leave they had to......stay out, they must.


Then the real work begins,
as the horror of them living with us fades
into the horror of not knowing what and why and how they are doing,
to the sudden unexpected calls, or dark appearances,
where there is no sense to be made out of the visit,
no relief.
The reports of relatives and siblings.

This.


To work through all of this while trying to eek out an ordinary life.
Day by day, hour, by hour, minute, by minute.
Some days fly by,
others drag out,
or come to a screeching halt
as reality,
this
unfolds,
into another story,
drama, untold.

I have been busy going to school at nights after a long days work.
Driving past the place where Hoku dropped off Rain,
driving past three nights a week.
The emptiness I push away fights back from my innards.

I can feel her near.

Driving past the area scanning the sidewalks, darkened figures walking
catch my eye,
I wonder if one of them could be my daughter,
wonder
this night
and this night
and this night
as my hands grip the steering wheel
tight,
is she is okay?

The knot growing tighter in my stomach.
I circled around that block a few nights ago, looking for her.
A small residential area in between businesses, an old library.
The homeless have been removed from the parks,
there are makeshift lean to's and tarps cropping up in the nearby surround.

This
is where my daughter has lived.

I look and see a few tents here and there, no sight of Rain.
Thursday night.
Half sad, and half relieved, I go home,
and wearily lay my head upon my pillow,
praying that God watch over her and keep her.
I drift off into a restless sleep, and dream of her.
The her I remember.
The smiling, laughing her.
Friday morn.
Roosters crow jolts me awake, and I feel as if I did not sleep at all.
I shake off the cobwebs and go to clay class, mechanically rolling out slabs of clay,
working through feelings as the gray earth takes shape before me.
An owl forms, I build eyes, a beak.
It will stand guard upon the wall over my garden.
Gazing.
A sentinel.
Saturday, this day, the emptiness turns to a pain invading my head.
I reluctantly take to my bed.
Wake up in the late afternoon.
A day wasted, I think to myself.
Light of day fades to dark.
Sat down at the computer in the evening listening to a Karen Armstrong Ted Talk about compassion,
the golden rule.
Thank you Cedar, a fascinating woman, as are you.
Brilliant.
I looked over at my son and smiled,
his eyes grew large and he made a motion to the window behind me,
I turned around,
and there she was peering in.

In the darkness, an appearance.

I am startled, say a small prayer take in a shallow breath, then deeper.
Be calm my thoughts, be still my heart.
I go to the door.

Rain was with a male friend, they were both on bikes, backpacks full.
I see people all over the city riding bikes with full backpacks,
I know they are homeless, this is their "uniform".

There are many, many homeless people here on Oahu.

She is clean, hair done, her friend looks a little rough around the edges,
not unkempt,
but I can tell he has lived a longer life than his years.

I wonder if this is the guy that beats her, and purse my lips at the thought.

He is not.

She tells me the police picked the abusive guy up.
I am glad and I tell her so.

Rain is quite beautiful.
She looks nothing like me, the blood of her fathers ancestors overruled mine and formed strong Hawaiian features in my girl, broad shoulders, tall, big brown eyes and cocoa skinned, her smile reflects the moon of thousands upon thousands of years. Her people were navigators, crossing the oceans while others believed the earth to be flat. Star people, gazed up into the black sky, found compass points to travel the seas and knew with a certainty by mapping those brilliant constellations, the roundness of the globe.
Ancient travelers.
Perhaps she has inherited the restlessness.

I make them something to eat, a cup of coffee.
I ask for a hug.
Holding her close, I breathe her in and close my eyes, yearning for better nights and days.
I tell her I love her and that she has her whole life ahead of her.
I don't press about shelters, just listen to small talk.
She realizes she cannot fix this guy.
She says.

Her father brings out an extra light we have and affixes it to her bike.
A gesture,
a small token,
a symbol,
let the light guide you through the dark nights.

She talks about having to go to court.
Gave our mailing address for her State insurance, the hospital had her sign up the night she ended up there.
I tell her that I was paralyzed when Hoku texted me, she said they released her anyway.
Shrugging it off.

Evenly and slowly the words come out,
from me
that she has value and worth and doesn't deserve to be mistreated.
I say to please look forward.
She looks down.

I pray these words envelope her
stay close to her
resound and reverberate.

There is so much more that I want to say,
but I stop myself, because she already knows these things.
She knows.....this.

She says good bye and they go back down the road in the dark,
from whence they came,
to where,
I do not know.

Her shadow stretches up the driveway and reaches for mine.

What a strange world I am living in.
The nights are long and restless then
another day speeds forward.

I am going over my life,
as I go on with my life.
Reviewing past
living now
striving to be present.
The aches and pains of my weathered body
reveal the ache in my heart.
My time on this earth has shortened.
I must go on.
Despite
this.


I am feeling.....relieved that she looks okay.
Hopeful, that she tries to work her way to a better place.

I am in the in between.

A place reserved for mothers like me who go through this up and down and all around world of worry, fear, numbness, anger, grief, recovery.
Rise, stumble, fall.
Climbing the mountain before me, slipping at the rough spots, regaining my footing, one foot forward, hanging on to find the next hand hold, a foot hold.

I think of the photos I have seen of mountain climbers harnessed to the cliff in cocoon like hammocks suspended thousands of feet above the ground.

Do they sleep well?

The in between.

I am thankful to have seen her.
I am thankful that this time, she seemed.....more rational, her mannerisms a bit lighter,
not the heavy, sullen angry version, I last saw.

It is a small blessing, but I will take it.

I will keep praying that she find her way, as I try to find mine.

I will fold up my hammock, and work my way up the mountain.
Visualizing her as the captain of her ancient sailing canoe, navigating her way through life.

Perhaps, if I reach the top of the mountain, I will catch a glimpse of her white sails stretched taut capturing the winds of change, flying swiftly upon the jewel toned sea, towards the horizon to find new beginnings.
waa.jpg

It is a new day, and the journey continues.

leafy
 

New Leaf

Well-Known Member
So very very beautiful and moving I can relate xxxxx
Thank you Mybleedingheart, welcome to the forum. I am sorry for your need to be here, but, it is truly a soft place to be for folks like us who are going through these issues with our adult children. Please stay with us and keep posting. You are not alone.
(((Hugs)))
leafy
 

mybleedingheart

New Member
Thank you Mybleedingheart, welcome to the forum. I am sorry for your need to be here, but, it is truly a soft place to be for folks like us who are going through these issues with our adult children. Please stay with us and keep posting. You are not alone.
(((Hugs)))
leafy
How lovely thank you
 
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