The years have passed by like a foggy morning. Blurred by the endless motions of addiction, visibility has been low. I steady myself through each day with the pressure to maintain my purpose- raising grandkids. Though my vision is often blurred by a decade of anguish, I force myself to squint and keep my focus on what’s ahead.
This life is not for the weak. You learn to manage life with the most profound sadness you can imagine. Watching someone live in suicidal choices every day is frightening. I will never forget walking into my living room to find my daughter unresponsive. I tried CPR until the first responders arrived, to no avail. I will never forget the chilling words, “There’s no time.” And he picked her up in his arms and gently carried her to the ambulance.
I will never forget being at the hospital that day as she woke up. She looked at me with half-opened angry eyes and asked, “Why didn’t you just let me die?” At that moment, something changed, and I realized I had to let go. Her words broke something in me that nothing could repair.
Living with a loved one in addiction is consuming. You won’t forget the violent outbursts. The terrifying image of your kid slumped over and passed out from shooting up, or binge drinking stays forever. All the days you worried if they were alive in the next room haunt you. Still, you keep going. You create a safe space to live and compartmentalize the tragedies for safety.
I won’t forget the feeling of telling my kids no more. “My home is no longer an option.” It feels so wrong to say ‘enough.’ I carry a heavy burden.
Then, I remember my grandkids, who deserve peace, comfort, and a home they love. We may never forget the bad memories, but we can now create new ones. We laugh, snuggle, and enjoy every inch of a space made to be safe and loving. My eyes see for miles into their future with hope for the best. We choose to live free from the fog of uncertainty. We decide to pray together. God is still in charge, and we still believe!

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Sometimes you have to draw the line,
sometimes you have to let it go,
sometimes you cannot give more time,
sometimes you have to just say no.
And when you do you have to bear
the crashing waves of guilt,
the shouted curse, “You just don’t care
where my blood is spilt!”
And when the anger dies away
you have to find a reason why
there’s purpose for another day,
a reason yet to try
to live a life of hopes and dreams
when desolation’s all it seems.
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This is perfect! Thank you ♥️
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You’re so welcome!
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Bless you for looking out for those precious babies.
FMF #23
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They are my life!
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Wow, I cannot even start to imagine the fear and the heartbreak. Those little ones must be a real comfort, blessing, and joy to you, as you are to them as well. May the future be filled with hope, peace, laughter, and love
Your FM neighbor #17
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They definitely are!
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Can’t begin to imagine how hard this can be, but we have to set boundaries. More power to you! Wishing you and your family well.
Visiting from FMF #3
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Thank you!!
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In the process of creating new memories after loosing my youngest to Anorexia (not passed, just thoroughly alienated by the disease from the rest of the family).
Just stopped by from FMF #34
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I’m so sorry. I went through that with my daughter at a very young age. 🙏🏼🙏🏼
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