I’ve spent most of the last three weeks trying to let go. Let go of the pain, sorrow, anger and frustration. The hopes and dreams for my daughter. I’ve been trying to sink into acceptance and detachment. It’s been hard and I’ve definitely tripped up a few times. But I’m getting there. I may not actually ever even get “there” but as long as I’m creeping ever closer, that’s okay.
H came home for a week over Thanksgiving. I was pretty apprehensive about the whole thing, but all in all it went fairly well. She wasn’t demanding or obnoxious. She seemed genuinely grateful to be home. She was sober when she arrived and sober when she left but she did use one night that she was here.
I was so disappointed but not really surprised. She had gone out the night before and was supposed to come home but I got a text at 8 pm or so saying that she was staying out. She didn’t come home until 5 pm the next day. She walked in with dilated pupils, the shakes and her mouth hanging open. I took one look at her and said “You used.” I could tell she was going to lie but she must have decided it wouldn’t be in her best interest to do so and she told me the truth. If she hadn’t I was fully prepared to haul her skinny butt to the door. She was lucky that I didn’t anyway.
H spent the rest of her time here at home or out and about with us. It was nice and pleasant. But there is so much mistrust on my side of the fence that there was part of me that couldn’t wait to put her back on the bus. The stress of having her around ground me down…as much as I love her.
Since she has gone back I feel as though I’ve given her permission to live her life. To make her own choices and mistakes. To live with her own consequences. She texted me yesterday for money for her Smart Serve for a job. I said no. And it sat okay with me. I didn’t get anxious or regretful. This is good. A major step forward.
Today, I’m okay.