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<blockquote data-quote="New Leaf" data-source="post: 762843" data-attributes="member: 19522"><p>Hi Mirabelle, </p><p>I am so sorry you are going through this, and I definitely understand how it feels, having two daughters affected by their drug use. We are by no means living under normal circumstances. Whether or not it is our “imagination” run wild, the reality is that what has occurred in or out of our homes, dealing with loved ones gone off the rails, has wreaked havoc on our peace of mind and sense of security. PTSD, as Copa mentioned. Or, even TSD, because it is not “post” when a drug and street deranged, incapacitated loved one tries to manipulate you or your mate to house them. I understand how you are feeling, apprehensive, tense. I still feel that way when Tornado is on the streets. Even though she does not contact me, she has shown up at my home on rare occasion and it is quite unsettling. When she is incarcerated, I would get bombarded with daily phone calls and promises of rehab, demands for recent family photos and money put on her account. Oh the entitlement! As if I have nothing better to do than make her comfortable in jail! I have decided this time around not to communicate with her, that is hard some days, (she is still trying to call me) not so hard on others. I will always love her, but have to remind myself that I cannot have a relationship with her until she has shown by action that she truly wants to live a different lifestyle. Otherwise, I am just prey to her wiles. I think the bizarreness of loving someone who is manipulative, thieving and lacks moral compass has a way of wearing us down mentally, physically and spiritually. </p><p></p><p>My eldest, who I call Rain here, has been MIA for years now. I keep her in my prayers, but there are times when I fight with myself over that empty place in my heart for her. She has not attempted to come home, call or stop by in a few years.</p><p>Tornado, when in jail, or rehab (she’s been three times now, not of her own accord, but forced through the courts) has always talked of “coming home”. I swallow that lump in my throat and tell her that there is real help for her in the system, more than the average person would receive and she should avail herself of that. We had a revolving door for years, and that never worked. My youngest favorite quote is “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and again and expecting different results.”</p><p>So very true.</p><p>It still isn’t easy saying no, but each time the logic of it sinks in. I have the added responsibility of raising Tornados daughter, that helps me stick to my word, because she has been through enough. I think the hard part is, as parents, we would do anything for our kids, we want to see them healthy and safe, leading productive lives, but if they don’t want that for themselves, what can we do? We have no control over them, they are adults. They will do as they please. </p><p>My Mom brain can go into hyper drive, and I have to shake myself back to the reality that my daughter wants to come home, not to change and get better, she doesn’t want to have to follow rules. She wants her cake and eat it to, at the expense of everyone else. There is no relationship to be kindled when so many boundaries have been crossed. The revolving door in my home closed seven years ago, after another of countless horrific episodes occurred and I found my then 14 year old son curled up on my bed, sobbing uncontrollably. I didn’t realize then, what all the madness was doing to my younger kids, let alone my hubs and I. My son told me “Why do we have people living in our home that we can’t trust?”</p><p>Logic.</p><p>My “help” never helped my daughters. They just kept going off the rails and dragged us all into their chaos. </p><p>I was so overwhelmed by it all, I would go to work and talk with my lunch buddy. Poor dear. What a burden to hear all of that mess. She finally told me “I think you need to go see a counselor.”</p><p>I hadn’t realized how much my twos choices and consequences had taken over my life. How they were not one bit concerned about their siblings, their parents, family. Their drama, a direct result of the company they kept and their drug use, spilled and flooded over our lives, my heart, my mind, it was a living nightmare.</p><p>My stomach churns with the memory of it.</p><p>Good.</p><p>I’m glad I am writing this to you, it is a reminder to me that I never want to go back to that. </p><p>Ever.</p><p>That’s the strong part of me. The weak wimpy voice in my head messes with that. Especially triggered by pleas to “come home”. My heart starts to call me “cold” and “unloving”, I go through all sorts of scenarios and “what ifs” if I don’t step in. But, I have come to the conclusion that trying to help only prolonged the misery for all of us. I think now, that even communicating with Tornado while in jail, just ups her ante to try to get me into rescue mode, and lessens her chances to focus on and get the real help she needs. </p><p>I feel for your husband, He is being bombarded with manipulative tactics and constant “emergencies” to get to his heart. That is so very tough. My Rain while on the streets had been in abusive relationships, where she was beaten and hospitalized. This tore my husband up inside, his father was abusive. Hubs worked so hard to provide for our kids so they would have better lives than he did and to see this happening to his daughters was torture. Rain showed up at the house one morning as I was getting ready for work, battered and disheveled. I begged her to let me take her to a DV shelter. She refused. The very next day, she rode up the driveway on a moped, all cleaned up, high as a kite. </p><p>Talk about emotional roller coaster. </p><p>The insanity of it all.</p><p>Someone has to pull up and out of it, and it has to be us.</p><p>You only have control over yourself. When I shut the revolving door, hubs was still deeply entrenched. That was hard. I told him there was no way I would go back to housing my daughters, that our two younger kids deserved to have peace, that we all deserved peace in our home. This made me the “bad guy” in my two way-wards eyes, and somewhat in his. It drove a wedge between us, and my two “triangulated” on this. He became their “go to” because they knew I was done. My eldest at one point, came at me, angrily standing over me. It was scary. I told my hubs and he told my daughter not to come around when I was home alone. But, he still continued to “help” her, weekly washing her clothes and feeding her. I couldn’t convince him that, that wasn’t helping her. He passed after battling various illness six years ago, that was hard and scary, having to deal with imagined scenarios being home with just my son. </p><p>I purchased a security camera and put it up on my front porch. It alerts me on my phone and records movement. This gives me some peace of mind, I can see on my phone who approaches my house. There are some reasonable deals out there on security cameras if you don’t already have them.</p><p>That being said, I hope you are able to communicate your fears with your husband. Hopefully that will help him stick to his word of not allowing your stepson home. I think you mentioned that you both attend naranon, which is helpful because we all need reinforcement of our right and <em>obligation to our own selves </em>to keep boundaries for our healths sake. </p><p>I came across a reel yesterday and forwarded it to my well children. The narrator said-</p><p>“I hate when people say- “But their still your family!”</p><p>“I don’t give a <img class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" alt="💩" title="Pile of poo :poop:" src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/6.6/png/unicode/64/1f4a9.png" data-shortname=":poop:" />! It’s okay to cut toxic people out of your life. You know why? Because blood ain’t thicker than peace of mind.”</p><p>I think I will put that on my fridge.</p><p>I hope that you are able to have a good heartfelt conversation with your husband about what you are going through, and he will be able to see eventually what is happening to him.</p><p>You matter. You both matter.</p><p>Peace of mind matters. </p><p>(((Hugs)))</p><p>New Leaf</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="New Leaf, post: 762843, member: 19522"] Hi Mirabelle, I am so sorry you are going through this, and I definitely understand how it feels, having two daughters affected by their drug use. We are by no means living under normal circumstances. Whether or not it is our “imagination” run wild, the reality is that what has occurred in or out of our homes, dealing with loved ones gone off the rails, has wreaked havoc on our peace of mind and sense of security. PTSD, as Copa mentioned. Or, even TSD, because it is not “post” when a drug and street deranged, incapacitated loved one tries to manipulate you or your mate to house them. I understand how you are feeling, apprehensive, tense. I still feel that way when Tornado is on the streets. Even though she does not contact me, she has shown up at my home on rare occasion and it is quite unsettling. When she is incarcerated, I would get bombarded with daily phone calls and promises of rehab, demands for recent family photos and money put on her account. Oh the entitlement! As if I have nothing better to do than make her comfortable in jail! I have decided this time around not to communicate with her, that is hard some days, (she is still trying to call me) not so hard on others. I will always love her, but have to remind myself that I cannot have a relationship with her until she has shown by action that she truly wants to live a different lifestyle. Otherwise, I am just prey to her wiles. I think the bizarreness of loving someone who is manipulative, thieving and lacks moral compass has a way of wearing us down mentally, physically and spiritually. My eldest, who I call Rain here, has been MIA for years now. I keep her in my prayers, but there are times when I fight with myself over that empty place in my heart for her. She has not attempted to come home, call or stop by in a few years. Tornado, when in jail, or rehab (she’s been three times now, not of her own accord, but forced through the courts) has always talked of “coming home”. I swallow that lump in my throat and tell her that there is real help for her in the system, more than the average person would receive and she should avail herself of that. We had a revolving door for years, and that never worked. My youngest favorite quote is “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and again and expecting different results.” So very true. It still isn’t easy saying no, but each time the logic of it sinks in. I have the added responsibility of raising Tornados daughter, that helps me stick to my word, because she has been through enough. I think the hard part is, as parents, we would do anything for our kids, we want to see them healthy and safe, leading productive lives, but if they don’t want that for themselves, what can we do? We have no control over them, they are adults. They will do as they please. My Mom brain can go into hyper drive, and I have to shake myself back to the reality that my daughter wants to come home, not to change and get better, she doesn’t want to have to follow rules. She wants her cake and eat it to, at the expense of everyone else. There is no relationship to be kindled when so many boundaries have been crossed. The revolving door in my home closed seven years ago, after another of countless horrific episodes occurred and I found my then 14 year old son curled up on my bed, sobbing uncontrollably. I didn’t realize then, what all the madness was doing to my younger kids, let alone my hubs and I. My son told me “Why do we have people living in our home that we can’t trust?” Logic. My “help” never helped my daughters. They just kept going off the rails and dragged us all into their chaos. I was so overwhelmed by it all, I would go to work and talk with my lunch buddy. Poor dear. What a burden to hear all of that mess. She finally told me “I think you need to go see a counselor.” I hadn’t realized how much my twos choices and consequences had taken over my life. How they were not one bit concerned about their siblings, their parents, family. Their drama, a direct result of the company they kept and their drug use, spilled and flooded over our lives, my heart, my mind, it was a living nightmare. My stomach churns with the memory of it. Good. I’m glad I am writing this to you, it is a reminder to me that I never want to go back to that. Ever. That’s the strong part of me. The weak wimpy voice in my head messes with that. Especially triggered by pleas to “come home”. My heart starts to call me “cold” and “unloving”, I go through all sorts of scenarios and “what ifs” if I don’t step in. But, I have come to the conclusion that trying to help only prolonged the misery for all of us. I think now, that even communicating with Tornado while in jail, just ups her ante to try to get me into rescue mode, and lessens her chances to focus on and get the real help she needs. I feel for your husband, He is being bombarded with manipulative tactics and constant “emergencies” to get to his heart. That is so very tough. My Rain while on the streets had been in abusive relationships, where she was beaten and hospitalized. This tore my husband up inside, his father was abusive. Hubs worked so hard to provide for our kids so they would have better lives than he did and to see this happening to his daughters was torture. Rain showed up at the house one morning as I was getting ready for work, battered and disheveled. I begged her to let me take her to a DV shelter. She refused. The very next day, she rode up the driveway on a moped, all cleaned up, high as a kite. Talk about emotional roller coaster. The insanity of it all. Someone has to pull up and out of it, and it has to be us. You only have control over yourself. When I shut the revolving door, hubs was still deeply entrenched. That was hard. I told him there was no way I would go back to housing my daughters, that our two younger kids deserved to have peace, that we all deserved peace in our home. This made me the “bad guy” in my two way-wards eyes, and somewhat in his. It drove a wedge between us, and my two “triangulated” on this. He became their “go to” because they knew I was done. My eldest at one point, came at me, angrily standing over me. It was scary. I told my hubs and he told my daughter not to come around when I was home alone. But, he still continued to “help” her, weekly washing her clothes and feeding her. I couldn’t convince him that, that wasn’t helping her. He passed after battling various illness six years ago, that was hard and scary, having to deal with imagined scenarios being home with just my son. I purchased a security camera and put it up on my front porch. It alerts me on my phone and records movement. This gives me some peace of mind, I can see on my phone who approaches my house. There are some reasonable deals out there on security cameras if you don’t already have them. That being said, I hope you are able to communicate your fears with your husband. Hopefully that will help him stick to his word of not allowing your stepson home. I think you mentioned that you both attend naranon, which is helpful because we all need reinforcement of our right and [I]obligation to our own selves [/I]to keep boundaries for our healths sake. I came across a reel yesterday and forwarded it to my well children. The narrator said- “I hate when people say- “But their still your family!” “I don’t give a 💩! It’s okay to cut toxic people out of your life. You know why? Because blood ain’t thicker than peace of mind.” I think I will put that on my fridge. I hope that you are able to have a good heartfelt conversation with your husband about what you are going through, and he will be able to see eventually what is happening to him. You matter. You both matter. Peace of mind matters. (((Hugs))) New Leaf [/QUOTE]
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