Goodbyes.

Its always so hard and emotionally sensitive, saying goodbye to my only biological child. It has made many things that were easily taken for granted grow too difficult to deal with. The simplest of Life’s treasures and everyday, “little things” now seem decadent and wrong to enjoy. When your grown-up daughter has seemingly CHOSEN homelessness and the chaos that unfailingly attaches to such a lifestyle, the colors of the pages telling the story that’s your life dulls down a few shades. After getting married, I went back to get Boo and bring her with me to Arizona. She came willingly, at first. But, convincing her that she wasn’t leaving anything or ANYONE noteworthy behind was a different story; and proved too be impossible in the end. Boo ended up breaking every agreement we had in terms of house rules etc. She eventually got hotwired my car and attempted to steal it. Luckily, it wouldn’t go anywhere after being hotwired, so I got to keep my car, unharmed for the most part. She stole my purse, credit cards, emptied out my change jar in secret, and basically brought nothing remotely positive to the table. She wound up going back to San Jose to live in poverty and poor health. It hurt me deeply but I had to let her go. I’ve been with her for 2 weeks and am heading back to AZ today. It is very hard leaving her behind in the conditions she’s living in. Its difficult not to be eaten alive by guilt for having a warm bed to sleep in at night, to be honest.

A Letter From Boo

 

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Received Today, Saturday 3/29/2014


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03.18.14

Dear Mom,

Song: Dear Mama
Artist: Tupac
Lyrics: “I know I can always depend on my Mama…”

Hey, first off Happy Birthday you turned 35. I hope its okay. I’ll be 17 in 41 days!
I know you’re super angry with me so I’m not even gonna talk to you about my experience out there last time…but I want to let you know. You know me, I’m not gonna say sorry because I’ve said sorry so many times and I never got better. If anything, I got worse. I want you to know though Mom it’s not your fault and it is all on me. I want you to know I’m sorry for acting a fool and not doing anything I’m supposed to. I’m addicted to that life-style…
I want you to know I miss you a lot, I miss talking to you. I miss you a lot. I’ve never gone this long without talking to you. I’m sorry I am such a mess. If you wanna call me, you know where I am.
Oh obviously you know my Dad died. Sad. Sad. Sad.
Well
Love Always,
Boo
>>>>>>>>>>


The Most Forgettable Piece Ever Written

I have slowly been changing along with all of the madness that has become of my life since the DFCS took control over my only child (supposedly to “rehabilitate” her uncontrollable behaviors in “treatment”). Gradual differences have arisen between the Old Me and this…the Me who stands in place of the one who was robbed of everything and then slowly, but surely – beaten to death. Things that I see are perceived differently than a much more trusting and naïve Me would have seen them; the pessimism is beyond any sense of measurement these days, and the world feels so much less like Home.

After experiencing everything as horrible as what has transpired in the life of my own little girl, I have lost hope or any notion of forward progression from here. I just cannot seem to get my head around the vast corruption and greed in this particular arena…hmmmm…

How was it, that a young girl in need of structure and self-control, lacking the attention span to nurture such things very well, with physiological conditions that create an appearance far more mature than her actual years in age – court-ordered to reside at a community facility for behaviorally challenged children – is victimized by a staff of that facility?

Why was it, that after the child victim of sexual assault, came forward with such information to the facility administration, she was then horribly ridiculed in turn?

How can it be possible, that the government agency charged with the care and well-being of the children in the community, is also quite willing and capable of protecting NOT THE CHILDREN, BUT THEIR PREDATORS?

…I become enraged on a daily basis;

the normalcy I claim – my job: my saving grace amongst all of humanity – as it forces me to pretend; I escaped reality every day since 2006 that way – but that slipped away also, and will be gone on Friday…

Timing sure the fuck IS everything, isn’t it?