The Slow Drink.

One element of the strained relationship that I have never written about before on this blog is that which makes up the dynamic between myself and my parents (my mother and step-father) and Boo; the reasons behind this were self-serving, as the depth of detail that would be involved in trying to write down this dynamic is daunting to consider. In order to write about the current status of things now, however, I must do a summary of that dynamic first:
• Upon my return from a long-time in-patient stay at the hospital, she had changed (this much, I HAVE written about in the past on this blog) – changed in the sense of her overall characteristics, personality and functioning behaviors – she had become “spoiled” in the classic sense as a result of residing with her doting grandparents for too long without any real ground rules.
• It didn’t surprise me as much as it hurt me to quickly learn that when given a choice in the matter, Boo would unfailingly and repeatedly choose to be with her grandparents (instead of me) – as she could control the situation to a disturbing degree when she was with them, as opposed to when she was with me.
• A wedge was built between all of us.
• Boo’s “splitting” set the stage for the years to come.

By the time I had come to terms with Boo’s preference of my parents over me, it was because I was unable to uphold the rules and culture of my home when she was at home; her disregard and disrespect for my expectations as well as my consistency when it came to cause and effect, and any attached repercussions that she might have at a given time. She never had consequences with my parents: they let her run all over them and always found reasons to excuse her behaviors – to the point of sheer enablement. It had become so bad that even prior to Boo’s being put into a “residential treatment facility”, our family was at constant odds in regard to what to do with her. They always accused me of being too hard on her; and I still stand firm that they were detrimentally lenient with an unruly child.
I hate to say this, but everything that has become…everything that our so-called family has disintegrated away to…I had flashes of it years ago; I saw it coming – or at least the very clearly represented possibility of such an un-solvable puzzle as that in which we now reside. As time wore on, Boo began to steal from them; by the time she was eight years old, she had already broken into my step-dad’s safe and stolen close to $1,000.00 over the gradual period of about a year or so. When I learned of this, I exploded and went into a rage, admittedly; I was disgusted and ashamed of Boo for such despicable things. It was within the following few months that she was remanded to the place where she became a child victim of sexual assault – and things obviously tail-spun from there to a much deeper and darker type of despair for our family. However, my explosive reaction to Boo stealing from my parents had started another period of time in which I was once again: cast out and collectively shunned by my mother’s closest family. Things were in such a state when Boo went away, and I did not start to speak to my parents again until several years later – when Boo was almost killed for the first time by a grown man while she was on the lam. None of us had seen nor heard from her in over a month and our fear drew us together at the hospital.
Since then, we have been pretty solid…
I believe the healing that seems to have been happening within my relationships with my parents (together and individually) is due to Boo’s worsening behaviors and lessening concern with how those behaviors affect the people who love her i.e. my parents and I. These days, it’s during the times when Boo has showed her ass and stabbed one or both of them in the back with painful blatancy somehow, that they tend to want me around for comfort. I am happy to be around them for this purpose and always have been, so in turn, is created a circumstance to which I am only bound by the negative and destructive displays put forth by my daughter. Upon my return from the last visit I had with Boo on her 18th birthday in May, I have only been re-affirmed through her own actions of her complete inability to live an honest life, in pretty much any context. She has since that visit, been kidnapped, tortured and maimed, literally nearly killed, had surgery, been hospitalized, and eventually returned to my her home county as a judicially procedural result; she has come back to her hometown – where I live.
She did not come back with any changed sense of appreciation for Life or how close she was to losing hers, unfortunately, either. No, Boo was flown back by her trusty and ever-disappointing “case worker” with nowhere to go besides yet another joke of a Sober Living Environment Safe house that only allowed her in because of some professional future perk the county offered in desperate return for an open bed. Boo lasted all of two whole days there (never calling or apprising any of us to the developing situation surrounding her living status or whereabouts – because she doesn’t have to now that she is an adult). As soon as she finished her course of antibiotic and needed no further assistance to shower etc. due to her numerous and severe recovering flesh wounds that are dispersed quite evenly from her head to toe – she was gone again.
She showed up at my parents apparently; and next, somehow managed to talk my dad into buying her a fucking top of the line i-phone and adding her to his phone plan (he still uses an ancient flip-phone w/out a camera); she promised all kinds of shit and then took a shower, ransacked my mother’s bedroom and jewelry, put on some hooker shoes, and left once again.
• She stole heirloom jewelry from my mother
• She came to the house with ONLY the plan of exploiting my dad’s fondness of her
• She has not returned since
She has, however, had the fucking audacity to call and ask for more cash!!! Not only from my dad, but also me and my mother also!!! My mom has finally been forced to water and I’m helping her to drink as slowly as possible, because it hurts like Hell to be stabbed in the back by a grown child of your own line that you helped raise up, I know…I know. But my dad…well, he would likely GIVE HER MORE CASH if he had the opportunity to do it without me and my mom finding out, I just know it deep down…and I don’t like it.


Published by

Americana Injustica


12 thoughts on “The Slow Drink.”

  1. god i just cant say enough how awful your life has been all those years..and still continuing. yes, bpd’s do splitting like that, and that makes everyone wounded, and isolated. i’m glad your mom is coming around now, and that (even if only by negative behaviours) you three now have finally been put back together, with a chance of healing there. i wish you peace and safety and family and strength to carry on. i wish for your boo that one day, she will recognize she needs family too, and doesn’t want to be running scared any more.

    Liked by 2 people

      1. Ya, i know. she needs to want it for herself, to change her priorities and life. hopefully, that day will come sooner rather than later. warm thoughts and caring your way.

        Liked by 2 people

      2. Knowing what we have to do and doing it knowing we are right should make it easier, but it dang well doesn’t. It’s bad enough for a Dad, I can’t imagine the intensity of pain, disappointment and sorrow flowing from a Mother’s heart and soul. Praying for you all to have the strength and resolve to continue to do what you know is right, even when it feels ever so bad. Big hugs for you my dear Friend. You deserve better after all you’ve survived in your life.
        ❤ (๑̀ ͜ʖ๑́) ❤
        👀 ♥ * ͜ * ♥ 👀

        Liked by 1 person

        1. Well, idk about deserving better…who is to say that I dont deserve everything I’m getting? I’m no angel…I did this to her…I am the idiot who married a psychopath, not her…its all so much to process…even with so much time on my hands, it is.
          I thank you for your staunch alliance, George…you’re a blessing. Xx

          Liked by 1 person

          1. WE have all made “less than perfect” decisions in life, my dear Friend. So don’t beat yourself up too much. Our youthful choices tend to bite us in the butt, some more than others, but you have tried so hard and so long to make up for all of it. Your heart is full of so much love for Boo and your folks. You try to let your Love guide your decisions now and it has to be Tough Love instead of Enabling Love. It does suck indeed that one so loved can’t see it, but we can’t give up, it’s not in our DNA, and we can’t shield our hearts from the pain and disappointment, but we can’t let feelings of guilt keep us from forgiving outselves and going forward. It’s taken me years to realize that the blame for my twin girls’ accident wasn’t mine to take on, but someones elses, so how could I forgive him and myself until much later. thankfully I’ve slowly gone forward not backwards. We’re our worst critics and sometimes our least compassionate supporters. You are limited in what you can do as long as Boo decides to do what she chooses to do without regard to the personal consequences. So stay hard and focused, but take the blame bat out of your hand and just know I and others know you do everything you can for Boo out of love, a Mom’s unconditional love.
            Time is not always our ally, it can make us crazy with “what ifs” and “if I’d just done that differently”s. We can’t fall into those traps, it is what it is and we can only do so much, bc in the end, we control so very little in our lives and that of others. As long as I’m here, grab hold and holler, I’m mute not blind or deaf.
            👀 ♥ * ͜ * ♥ 👀

            Liked by 1 person

  2. Dear Americana,

    Is there anybody around who is just like your daughter? Who has the same psychological reflexes? From the opposite sex, preferably? When such “twin personalities” meet, it can create something purifying: they’d have no secret towards each other anymore. It helps eliminating karma residues. Does she still have a secret, a particular event, a vision or even a (so-called) hallucination that she possibly keeps from you (as her mother)?
    I ask, because your story displays the same symptoms that my younger sister used to display. She’s not on this earth anymore, yet I managed to discover before she died that she had visions which she would not dare to talk about.
    I’m only speculating, maybe clumsily, but I’m just hoping so much that you’ll find peace, though all those experiences already make you someone special.
    Just fight, you’re a fighter, it’s your “function”. In another life, you’ll lie down with the ones you cherish, easy.

    Liked by 2 people

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