The person she was no longer exists and I don't like the new person at all. What sort of mother chooses to have no contact with her own daughter? What happens is something terrible happens to her and I have turned away from her? Just when I feel I have progressed with coping with life that has been left following all the destruction and hurt, my heart starts aching again with grief.
Rosie, I understand how you are feeling. It is a sadness that reaches the very core of our being. I don't think anyone who has not been through this can even relate to how this feels.
To have our beloved children in such a state, is a hurt like no other.
We have tried, all of us here in so many ways to help our d c's. We have proven to ourselves through trial and error that we have no control over what our grown children will do.
So we sit with the feelings and let them flow through us. It is a storm, a battle between heart and head. Sleepless nights and gut wrenching sorrow.
Deep breaths, I am taking in and asking God to help my daughters and grands. I have tried my way for too long, and it didn't work.
Please Lord, calm my heart and watch over them.
The early morning hours are quiet, but my mind is racing. My stomach churns.
One day at a time turns to one moment at a time.
We are not terrible mothers.
We are not.
Our daughters will do as they please, and make these terrible choices no matter if we are near, or far.
This we know.
We know this from all of the times we threw our lives to the side
and tried and tried.
Our sons watched, horrified.
We have done the best jobs we could, parenting our now adult children.
We are not terrible mothers.
Our d c's are out there making terrible choices.
and they would take us down with them.
They would have us suffer their consequences.
We have suffered their consequences.
And so have our sons.
We are not terrible mothers.
We have tried a thousand and more different ways to have our daughters see the light.
They do not want to. Not yet. There may come a day, when they will decide to choose differently and reach for their meaning and purpose.
They will not do this, if we are throwing away our lives, seemingly rescuing them.
They will not do this, if we sacrifice ourselves in the wake of their spiraling.
We are not terrible mothers.
We are warriors, battle hardened and weary.
We have the very unfortunate reality of our grown children stumbling down a destructive path. But, the end of their story is not written. They have the ability to choose differently.
The grief and pain comes and goes like waves on the shore.
We do no good to anyone, self destructing on the choices of our daughters.
When I feel this way dear sister, I turn my focus to my son. My son has waited in the wings, in the shadow of his sisters going off the rails. He has waited so patiently. He is such a kind, loving soul.
I have raised his sisters, done my parenting. They know right from wrong. They choose.
I was not a terrible mother, and neither were you. Our daughters are making terrible choices and we will no longer allow their choices to drag us into the pit.
So we step back for a bit, to breathe.
Our lives matter, our lives have value.
We are not done with our parenting.
We have our sons, and they need us.
My son is growing so quickly into a young man.
So is your son, Rosie.
It is their turn to have our focus on them.
I am working hard to turn my sorrow into a determination that I will give my son the attention he so deserves.
I am running the tapes of the choices made by my daughters and how much it has affected all of us. How many years we have tried and tried.
The battle wages on inside of me, and I fight with all of my might to prevent myself from going down into the pit. As I sit here and write to you, I am writing to myself, because I am at the edge of the pit.
I am feeling the pain, and thinking, thinking. Praying.
The picture I have of my daughter, is similar to yours. She is on the streets with an abusive man. She is thin, and ill. She told my youngest girl, that she felt "safe" at home.
I cannot allow her to come home. I will not enable her. She needs professional help. She does not want it yet. It is her choice. I have no control over her choices.
There it is.
It is ugly and raw and real.
I grit my teeth, as I write this, push away the tangled knot of grief in my gut and switch my thought from that picture of my addicted, ill daughter and say over and over again in my head, like a mantra, "You are a beautiful person Rain, you can choose better and find your way." "Choose better and find your way".
It is the only way I know now, to lift myself up.
Hope.
Hope and faith that the good things that I taught my daughter will battle the bad choices and she will rise above this. Even though my daughter is 37, she has the chance to change, to look at what her life is, and
to want better for herself.
She has to want better, to make a change.
I cannot instill that want in her, I know, I have tried.
Then I say to myself "You must go on".
I look over at my son, still sleeping.
I must go on. I must take care of myself, my house, my husband, my son.
What sort of mother chooses to have no contact with her own daughter?
I do.
For now.
I can't.
It is too hard, and anything, anything I say to her, is rejected and turned around and twisted.
So, I choose to stay in the distance. I love her.
I choose not to be used, manipulated, disrespected, stolen from and put in a state of confusion and pain.
I choose to set my sights on my son, while hoping and praying for my daughters and grands to be well. I love them.
I have no contact with them, either.
I am not a terrible mother, and neither are you.
You are not alone, Rosie.
Thank you for posting and sharing how you feel, you have helped me more than you could possibly know.
I feel the same. The grief and pain.
It is hard, the ups and downs and sideways of it all.
So very hard.
You are not alone.
Take care and feel what you have to feel.
One day, one moment at a time.
We will get better and stronger.
I pray for our peace of heart and mind.
(((HUGS)))
leafy