I am a rock...

so I've been told by my friends.  To my grown daughter, I am a cold stone.  She feels I hate her, and that word pretty much fell out of my mouth unfortunately.  What I said was that I hated her for the drama she had put us through these last 2 to 3 years, her lack of responsibility in working a case plan to get her life in order, get her children back, hold down a job, inability to see that this relationship has been a codependent one enabling both to use/abuse drugs, and doing little to change it. I hate what she has become.  I am not the enemy, rather her mother, who loves her and hates her at the same time.  There is a fine line between the two isn't there?

She's homeless.  I found her in my garage out back knowing full well she is putting her daughter, who lives with me, at risk of removal by Social Services if she 'squats' on my property.  Its hard to tell your grown, obviously mentally confused, and physically sick daughter that you don't care where she has to go, she just has to leave your property/residence.  Its heartwrenching, after a long day's work.  Compassion wants to hold her close and try to fix her even knowing its an impossible task.  She tells me she has little time to live anyway, that I'll be glad when she's gone, as she has a cyst on one of her kidneys, if one can even believe what she says.  If she were dying, she would involve all of her family members, and we would brave the process with her, but that is not the case, and so I believe it to be an untruth; a ploy for sympathy.  No doubt she is sick physically, she is hep C positive due to shared needles.  Reality and common sense tells me I cannot forsake her child to help her, an addicted adult child.  I wished I had the money to put her in an extensive year-long addiction recovery, or at least pay her rent somewhere just to keep her off the street, but I can't; I don't have the luxury of extra cash.  She says she is working everyday with some guy doing odd jobs, she says she is not using, but I found spoons in the garage, wrapped up in a towel.  I can't deal with that, no matter the lies she told me about it; not on my property.  I am not going to jail for gunk in my garage that doesn't even belong to me. 

Its like living a psychological killer movie, destroying families and emotional bonds, and it ends leaving you hanging... wondering....

Lord, give me strength.

Keep her safe. 

Keep me sane. 

Tonight my heart feels heavy and the tears free fall. 

Tomorrow will be a new fuck-o-meter day, we'll see where the pointer goes!

Thanks for listening.

UPDATE:

Not long after I arrived home today (the day after this post 08/24) my daughter in question arrived to my residence with a representative from the local Women's Shelter. It appears that she will be receiving help due to the fact that she is homeless, is in a codependent/abusive relationship and is without family support at this time. Her worker was previously a client there herself, who has taken Rae on as her advocate worker to get her services, and the help she needs, both physically and mentally, and get her back into the real world. Rae seemed happy to finally be able to talk to someone who has been there and turned their negative situation into a positive one, and she is hoping to do the same. My daughter's road is a long one to travel but I do have faith she can do it. My Dad always told us girls that we were made out of tough stuff, and he's right. I am breathing a sigh of relief at the moment. I guess a few prayers didn't hurt either. Thank you, thank you for small miracles, one baby step at a time.