It was the image of my son, 14, curled up on my bed in fetal position sobbing his heart out after another too many to count chaotic episodes happened in my home. That woke me up to the years of craziness of trying to “help” both of my daughters. In particular, Tornado and my three grands. Hubs and I had our minds on our grands and their mother’s attempts to leave their abusive father, wanting our grands to have a better life. Wanting our daughter to be safe, believing each time she would leave her boyfriend. I would rearrange the house, make room for all of them, only to have the boyfriend creep back into their lives....and ours.
Looking back, I regret that I can’t recover those years lost for my son. That I was in this fog of desperation for both of my adult daughters and their lifestyles, it clouded my vision and shattered the peace of our home and hearts.
I put my foot down and said no more.
Hubs was not at the same place I was.
That was hard, our eldest pounced on the divide and triangulated her father. I would come home from work to him washing her clothes while she showered, he would make her food. Then she would go back to her street life. I don’t know if he gave her money. This continued throughout his illnesses. When he was in the hospital she would call and promise to visit, then didn’t show. Near the end, he was in ICU and the doctors said he only had brain stem function, she showed up as we made the decision to honor his wishes to pass peacefully. She was angry and accused me of giving up on him. It was awful enough to have to deal with hubs death.....
I am sorry, this is difficult to write, horrible to read I imagine. This is a “nutshell” version of years and years of downward spiraling, our daughters one bad choice after another, our symbiotic desperation to “fix” them. I thought often that maybe this or that would be the moment my two would make a change, but they are still actively using.
And so it goes.
I had to give them back to God. It was the only way I could disentangle myself from the sadness and face the reality that I had no control over their choices, that they were going to do what they wanted to do no matter what.
A few months back, I visited my eldest in the hospital, her leg was badly infected. I cried at the sight of it, reeling back to hubs battles with sepsis. I pled with her to get off the streets, to take care of herself. She left the next day AMA.
Sigh.
She is on the streets with a dangerous, abusive felon.
Tornado is in jail and I am fostering two of her children.
She appeared at the latest permanency hearing expressing to the judge that she wanted to try to fulfill court orders to keep her parental rights. Rehab, classes, etc. I am cautiously optimistic, but guarded.
The system pushes for reunification, arguing that kids do well when parents get clean and step up.
How do I find balance with this?
That’s the hard part.
I know too much. Been through too much. Seen the same ole same ole too many times. Not to mention dealing with traumatized grands.
That’s a whole different thread.
I would be lying if I wrote that I am fine. That recovering from enabling is easy. It is not. Recovery will be a life’s effort, just as addiction is.
But, being back in that rabbit hole is not an option.
I am grieving the loss of two living adult children.I hope and pray for their recovery, and mine. I am still trying to define that, and myself. Life keeps throwing these curveballs at me. I’m trying to figure out what I am supposed to be learning from all of it.
One day at a time........
((Hugs)))
Leaf
to all the suffering going on here. We all need a break. What is going on in so many of our lives is heartbreaking. 
