New Leaf
Well-Known Member
Hi all. I was replying to Nomads thread about a parents solution (Mom paid for apartment, bought food, to help her 2o ish year old), then I realized I was hijacking the thread and should just post my own, because it turned into venting and thinking and pondering stirred up questions.
I could not afford to put my two up as this woman has her son. Don’t know that it would work anyway, in trying to get them to live a conventional life, to see the value of it, the capability and potential they have.
Especially not in the shape they are in now.
Sigh.
Many years of trying to help, we went down the rabbit hole..... and they just dug in deeper. Pretty much destroyed or lost whatever relationships or possessions they had, children
(Tornado has three, her youngest fast approaching teen years) cars, chances at housing, then couch surfing, the list goes on. I can’t imagine what they would do with a free place, food, limited check ins.
Probably invite street friends for a party.
If I sound pessimistic, it is just our reality. Reading about solutions like the one you mention Nomad, makes me wonder and question my decisions, then a misty image appears in my mind of my youngest curled up in a ball crying with the frustration of dealing with the manic lives of sister addicts. Or reading some of his school essays where he laments not living a normal life. It’s true. It wasn’t a normal life. We were in crisis mode more often than naught.
Going back to bending over backwards to try to placate my two to stop drugging is not an option. Not judging anyone for the choices they make to try to deal with the never ending ache of having a wayward adult child out there.
Everyone has their own ways to walk this journey.
I spent part of an evening listening to my # 2 daughter lamenting her sisters predicament. She went down to the park and found Rain and Tornado together, Tornado crying the whole time. “She’s not the same person Mom, she’s so broken.” My heart leapt to my throat as I pushed back tears and drew a deep breath. The words I spoke were not only mine, they were the echoes of testimony on this forum. They have to want better for themselves.
I can’t help but wonder how and when this happens. When will they want better for themselves?
If a person is so far down in a hole, and accepts this as the norm, removed from all loved ones, how do they begin to reconstruct their lives?
I directed Tornado to her probation officer. Rain, I have seen twice after the sepsis scare. Going down to the park to check in with her. It is all I can do. At least it is something, I couldn’t bring myself there in the past, feeling too broken myself to deal with her living conditions.
I hope a space will open up for Tornado in rehab, that is where she and her sister need to go.
I have learned the hard way that nothing I do will get them from under the spell of meths dragons breath. There are homeless camps throughout our island dotted with blue and gray tarp roofed shanties. These are the cast offs who have shunned life as we know it. My daughters are caught up in the middle of it all. Not wanting to leave the park, lest their “things go missing” not wanting to stay in a hospital because “I can’t just lay there doing nothing.” Tornado out of jail, left a sober house to join her sister in the park.
The times I have gone to the park, Rain and her boyfriend are laying around in their setup, sleeping off the nights activities. I pass by scruffy, disheveled, lost souls. Never imagined my two would be right there in their midst.
Sigh.
I am wrestling with the thought of visiting every now and then, at the least to keep some sort of connection. I am reading articles about compassion (CRAFT) in dealing with addicted love ones, I know that I need to be careful about my own health and welfare in taking this step.I am not talking about housing them, just taking baby steps to let them know they are still loved by their family. A visit every so often. That’s hard. In my face reality.
I am recalling my own journey when I was pregnant with Rain. I was unwed and that was a shameful thing in the 70s.My father shunned me, and I stopped communicating with my family. Mom reached out to me. I remember feeling upset at being shunned, but I was also working to thrive in spite of the disconnect, to move on without my family. My mom calling drew me back, and Dad eventually dealt with my indiscretion.
Not that pregnancy is comparable to addiction at all, but the disconnect is what I am writing about. I am not talking about enabling my two. I don’t want to go backwards to the craziness, but do feel that no contact has been extreme and not helpful to.......me. Well, it was necessary at some points, when our relationship was so strained and menacing.
There is a constant underlying ache I feel, a grieving for loved ones still living. I push it down with prayer, but it is still there. I don’t look at this as codependency. These are my daughters.
I have a hard time with certain branding used by programs. Like Detachment, I prefer disentanglement. I will always be attached to my children. Doesn’t mean that my life has to be strangled by their circumstances or choices. I can’t deny my love for them, and how hard it’s been on this journey which has been stretching on for years now.
Sorry if I am all over the place.
So I went and chatted with Rain for a bit yesterday. Hugged her tight, invited her to her brothers graduation ceremony. We shall see if she comes.
Tornado has gone further off the rails according to her sister. She must be using again. Meth has got a firm grip on her. Rain seems a bit more stable if you can observe that in a person who prefers street life. She says she cannot deal with Tornado, who apparently is jumping off the deep end into a drug hazed psychotic abyss.
Good Lord what bizarre circumstances.
So
You guys ever feel like jumping on top of a table a la old time musical style and belting out a song lamenting your wayward children’s issues for the world to hear? You know, when someone sees you at the store and strikes up a conversation, asks how you are doing?
Do you really want to know?
Cue music da da da da
Well my eldest is homeless
Lives in a tent
Doesn’t want to work
Or pay any rent
And her boyfriends a jerk
My third was in jail
And I felt relief
Cause I knew where she was
And finally could sleep.......
I envision other parents in the crowded food court jumping up on tables and joining in with their own lamentations.
Okay I’m really losing my marbles.
But dang, sometimes it’s hard to say “I’m fine.” When I’m kind of not, kind of am.
Well yah, I’m fine, but.........soldier on Leafy.
Son is graduating tonight. There is this bitter sweet mixture of feelings coursing my veins. I have my work cut out for me in celebrating this stepping stone and walking this journey into finding myself, (isn’t that a lifelong journey, after all?) strengthening those weaknesses in my armor and living with what is, is.
Thanks to anyone reading and understanding my rant. What a mountain we all climb. In the long run, it is up to my two to figure out if the meth dragon is worth the price they pay. In feeling compassion for my own mothers heart, and in all honesty, it has certainly taken its toll on my life. Lord help us all to be brave and strong, no matter what road our adult children choose. May we all soldier on and find those moments of peace and joy as circumstances whirl around us.
Love to all,
And
(((HUGS)))
Leafy
I could not afford to put my two up as this woman has her son. Don’t know that it would work anyway, in trying to get them to live a conventional life, to see the value of it, the capability and potential they have.
Especially not in the shape they are in now.
Sigh.
Many years of trying to help, we went down the rabbit hole..... and they just dug in deeper. Pretty much destroyed or lost whatever relationships or possessions they had, children
(Tornado has three, her youngest fast approaching teen years) cars, chances at housing, then couch surfing, the list goes on. I can’t imagine what they would do with a free place, food, limited check ins.
Probably invite street friends for a party.
If I sound pessimistic, it is just our reality. Reading about solutions like the one you mention Nomad, makes me wonder and question my decisions, then a misty image appears in my mind of my youngest curled up in a ball crying with the frustration of dealing with the manic lives of sister addicts. Or reading some of his school essays where he laments not living a normal life. It’s true. It wasn’t a normal life. We were in crisis mode more often than naught.
Going back to bending over backwards to try to placate my two to stop drugging is not an option. Not judging anyone for the choices they make to try to deal with the never ending ache of having a wayward adult child out there.
Everyone has their own ways to walk this journey.
I spent part of an evening listening to my # 2 daughter lamenting her sisters predicament. She went down to the park and found Rain and Tornado together, Tornado crying the whole time. “She’s not the same person Mom, she’s so broken.” My heart leapt to my throat as I pushed back tears and drew a deep breath. The words I spoke were not only mine, they were the echoes of testimony on this forum. They have to want better for themselves.
I can’t help but wonder how and when this happens. When will they want better for themselves?
If a person is so far down in a hole, and accepts this as the norm, removed from all loved ones, how do they begin to reconstruct their lives?
I directed Tornado to her probation officer. Rain, I have seen twice after the sepsis scare. Going down to the park to check in with her. It is all I can do. At least it is something, I couldn’t bring myself there in the past, feeling too broken myself to deal with her living conditions.
I hope a space will open up for Tornado in rehab, that is where she and her sister need to go.
I have learned the hard way that nothing I do will get them from under the spell of meths dragons breath. There are homeless camps throughout our island dotted with blue and gray tarp roofed shanties. These are the cast offs who have shunned life as we know it. My daughters are caught up in the middle of it all. Not wanting to leave the park, lest their “things go missing” not wanting to stay in a hospital because “I can’t just lay there doing nothing.” Tornado out of jail, left a sober house to join her sister in the park.
The times I have gone to the park, Rain and her boyfriend are laying around in their setup, sleeping off the nights activities. I pass by scruffy, disheveled, lost souls. Never imagined my two would be right there in their midst.
Sigh.
I am wrestling with the thought of visiting every now and then, at the least to keep some sort of connection. I am reading articles about compassion (CRAFT) in dealing with addicted love ones, I know that I need to be careful about my own health and welfare in taking this step.I am not talking about housing them, just taking baby steps to let them know they are still loved by their family. A visit every so often. That’s hard. In my face reality.
I am recalling my own journey when I was pregnant with Rain. I was unwed and that was a shameful thing in the 70s.My father shunned me, and I stopped communicating with my family. Mom reached out to me. I remember feeling upset at being shunned, but I was also working to thrive in spite of the disconnect, to move on without my family. My mom calling drew me back, and Dad eventually dealt with my indiscretion.
Not that pregnancy is comparable to addiction at all, but the disconnect is what I am writing about. I am not talking about enabling my two. I don’t want to go backwards to the craziness, but do feel that no contact has been extreme and not helpful to.......me. Well, it was necessary at some points, when our relationship was so strained and menacing.
There is a constant underlying ache I feel, a grieving for loved ones still living. I push it down with prayer, but it is still there. I don’t look at this as codependency. These are my daughters.
I have a hard time with certain branding used by programs. Like Detachment, I prefer disentanglement. I will always be attached to my children. Doesn’t mean that my life has to be strangled by their circumstances or choices. I can’t deny my love for them, and how hard it’s been on this journey which has been stretching on for years now.
Sorry if I am all over the place.
So I went and chatted with Rain for a bit yesterday. Hugged her tight, invited her to her brothers graduation ceremony. We shall see if she comes.
Tornado has gone further off the rails according to her sister. She must be using again. Meth has got a firm grip on her. Rain seems a bit more stable if you can observe that in a person who prefers street life. She says she cannot deal with Tornado, who apparently is jumping off the deep end into a drug hazed psychotic abyss.
Good Lord what bizarre circumstances.
So
You guys ever feel like jumping on top of a table a la old time musical style and belting out a song lamenting your wayward children’s issues for the world to hear? You know, when someone sees you at the store and strikes up a conversation, asks how you are doing?
Do you really want to know?
Cue music da da da da
Well my eldest is homeless
Lives in a tent
Doesn’t want to work
Or pay any rent
And her boyfriends a jerk
My third was in jail
And I felt relief
Cause I knew where she was
And finally could sleep.......
I envision other parents in the crowded food court jumping up on tables and joining in with their own lamentations.
Okay I’m really losing my marbles.
But dang, sometimes it’s hard to say “I’m fine.” When I’m kind of not, kind of am.
Well yah, I’m fine, but.........soldier on Leafy.
Son is graduating tonight. There is this bitter sweet mixture of feelings coursing my veins. I have my work cut out for me in celebrating this stepping stone and walking this journey into finding myself, (isn’t that a lifelong journey, after all?) strengthening those weaknesses in my armor and living with what is, is.
Thanks to anyone reading and understanding my rant. What a mountain we all climb. In the long run, it is up to my two to figure out if the meth dragon is worth the price they pay. In feeling compassion for my own mothers heart, and in all honesty, it has certainly taken its toll on my life. Lord help us all to be brave and strong, no matter what road our adult children choose. May we all soldier on and find those moments of peace and joy as circumstances whirl around us.
Love to all,
And
(((HUGS)))
Leafy