..”I allowed myself to die before I am dead.”.. This is the raw truth of being done. Finding yourself at a place of hopelessness and fighting for the will to carry on.
I am a parent of an adult loved one battling substance use. For years I fought alongside, tried to motivate, and lent help in any way I could. I have paid bills- sometimes for months, I have posted bail, bought groceries, clothes, and other items. I opened my home in hopes of change. But the desire for change was outplayed by the desire to be high.
It can take years for a mother to recognize codependency in herself. So much of what it entails looks like just being a mom.
I know the doubt, fear, and frustration in managing the symptoms of bipolar. If I prayed long and hard enough, I thought I would be healed, cured, and labeled a miracle. So far, that has not happened. I am still balancing bipolar, but with a new understanding of my mind.
The abuse left a stain on her tender heart, and her mind twisted from the games of an evil man. Worse, she felt dirty and unnecessary, like a garage rag that came in handy but was left lying around like trash.
God's love will lead us to step aside. His parenting must come first.
Through the storm..We can find peace.
When momma mothers addiction.
They may not make it out alive. I already found my daughter unresponsive in a suicide attempt, so I am numb to the scenario, yet in fear. As a parent, you never want to accept your child might die, but I acknowledge this painful truth.
(It is #77) What the hell am I doing? I rarely cuss. I hate it, to be honest. If it leaves my mouth, my patience is fried. I may be there today. I watched a movie early this morning. A sappy love film. "How long have you been married? Do you really even know who …