My daughter came home after not speaking to me for a few months. I was so happy to see her. I needed to hold her and tell her I love her and that I wanted to fix her life for her.
She informed me that she was still not talking to me and . . .
Okay I thought I am just glad she is home. She has her own place and she is legally grown at twenty-one, and I should just be happy she finally came home and we could fix our lives together.
It was hard to try and continue doing the project I was working on before she arrived with out talking to her. Still I tried. I made her favorite dish, chicken and dumplings and offered her a plate, but she wasn’t hungry. Wait hold on. I noticed right away she lost weight and she needed to eat, but mothers always say that, and still . . .
Something was not quite right, she was not quite right. She said she walked from the station. The station is a fifteen minutes bus ride, why did she not call and ask for and alternate route? She always checks to make sure she can get where she is going. At this point I am giving her the side eye because something is not adding up. But she brought a few groceries and she brought me chocolates.
I ran her a hot bath thinking she must be exhausted after that walk. I even turned on the Jacuzzi to help her unwind. She got in and did not stay long. She wrapped the towel around her and came back in the common area wrapped only in a towel to get her bag. She then proceeded to dress in front of the window, in the dining room, instead of taking the bag back to her room. My daughter, the shy one was behaving very strange.
Since she was not talking to me, I informed her the window was open and maybe she should take the bag to her room. Only then did she seem to notice the open curtain. I thought surely she would be sleeping soon. With cellphone in hand she headed to the back. She returned a few minutes later and decided she was going to have at least a dumpling or two. I smiled.
Two hours later and maybe the same amount of words to me, she was still awake, chatting and texting between scowls at me. I was still trying to have some kind of conversation. Okay maybe I should have just let her be. She did mention when I spoke of her weight loss, that she had been trying to lose weight.
I soon tired and headed to my bedroom.
She was still wide-awake and texting on that phone while talking. I crawled in on the other side of the bed and was asleep before she. She had the option of sleeping in the other room. I was glad she chose to sleep in my room it spoke volumes about her wanting someone close by.
She slept late and I was glad. I made breakfast she still was not hungry the next afternoon. I watched her move about and her actions were different. I began to notice subtle inconsistencies in the way she does things that only mothers know. Her mouth was moving and no sound was coming out. The music was on but she was not singing the words. Her eyes seemed to be looking past what she was seeing. She was doing her hair and rocking side to side. She kept pulling the same strand over and over and brushing and spritzing and the style was not getting any better.
I asked her to let me do her hair she said no. I asked her to do mine she said okay. But I could not move to get the blow dryer fascinated by the new person who had entered my child’s body. And then I did it I told her I thought she was on something, some kind of drug. She denied it vehemently and an argument ensued. I tried to hold her and console and tell her we can fix it together. Whatever it is we can do it together. There was nothing I could say to diffuse the escalating argument and denial. I tried to hold her down and I would have even tied her to something if I had a way just to get her to listen but I knew it was out of my hands and she packed her bag and left.
I pursued carrying a jacket, for her because it was cold. She kept looking back to see if I was following to then tell me to get away. She so wanted help and she did not know how to tell me. I wish I had listened. I wished I had just let her be. We argued and she said she was never coming back.
I was all alone for Christmas. She did call uh I mean text for Kwanzaa. I have to live each day knowing my college bound child has gotten lost along the way after only doing one year.
I called a friend for help and was told to go to NARANON. Oh great, I thought, a meeting. I am not on drugs I do not need to go to a meeting I need help getting her to the meeting. Still it was worth a try. With that in mind and that being the only lead I had I decided I would go.
My daughter called a few days later and that was a big step. She sounded so clear and defiant. Yes she was sober. And she was at work. Great. I told her about NARANON and that I would be going. She was like okay and…
The next day the counselor called and I was able to tell him she was doing better, and think I made a mistake and maybe she is not on drugs after all. He was like uh yeah, Sure uh its been two days and she is fine, uh okay. I could not bring myself to tell him I had not made the NARANON appointment yet. But I finally confessed that I planned on doing so that day. I did.
Then I had to wait for my daughter to return and for Sunday to come for the meeting.
I missed the first bus. And I was late because I could not find the place. It was at least a half a mile from the stop, but it seem like a hundred miles. There were no cars in the parking lot on the side of the building I came in on, and I was hoping it was cancelled for the holidays. I remember thinking don’t they know people need places like this the most during the holidays.
At the same time I was thinking I did not know what to say to these strangers. I certainly did not want to tell them all my troubles, and I really was in no mood to hear anyone else’s. I wondered if I was supposed to introduce myself and say Hi My name is . . . I am an alcoholic’s parent. I laughed kinda’, at the absurdity of saying something like that. My daughter was not drunk, she was high on something or maybe not, because she said she was not, and I needed to believe her. I wanted to go back home, and just let her be angry and not on drugs.
I do not want to be on this road to accepting the fact that there are way more than twelve steps to getting to this place, it feels like 12 million miles from my reality. The reality that says my daughter could never be on drugs. I found the place. Hi my name is . . . and I talked a lot.
– anonymous mom
