Sunday morning. There will be no church visit for me this month. I can not bring myself to it. God comes to me this morning as I sit outside looking at and listening to all of creation. Its rhythm is soothing. Thank God for that, as sometimes I am so numb it scares me. Will I ever feel anything again. It’s like I’m on the inside of a bubble looking out. I want to race this summer, but I don’t feel like it. I crave physical intimacy, yet I am void of emotion. I am a mess, but I don’t even know how to be a mess. I only know how to be numb. Moving through a thick fog. Feeling everything and feeling nothing all at the same time.
SHE IS GONE
There is so much to process about the last couple of months, and I’m sure it will take me time. At the moment, I am incredibly grateful for the opportunity to have had her in my life for a short period. I always wondered if a mother’s love could get through that armor she wears. I think it did a little, I don’t know.
My girl and I are not so different from each other. Maybe, because like her, I understand the crushing weight of the impending doom of instabile housing. In that aspect, I couldn’t separate myself from her situation. Other aspects of her life and choices completely baffle me.
I do miss her. How can I, you ask? I ask? How can I miss all that anger? Because she is a piece of me. Born of my flesh. I will hold good boundaries, and I will be o k. Still, there will always be a piece of my heart missing.
I wonder if she knows how empty my home and heart are without her. There certainly is also a lot less drama. Is there a family without drama, though? I suppose our level was in the danger zone.
MOVING ON
True, joy. It’s not about what you have it’s, who you have. They say pain shared is pain divided. The beams of love sent to me from souls near and far has been nothing short of cosmic. God in us, Jesus in the flesh. In the words of Anne Lamott, “Love is a windbreaker, fashioned of people who sat and listened and got us tea, who did not run for their cute little lives when ours got dark,” I am so blessed with an army of windbreakers.
I have no idea if I will ever see her again. (Full disclosure. I am red hot bitter towards my landlord for contributing to that.) I am betting on love batting last. Without that, I would be doomed to a prison I want no part of. Life is hard and precious. Full of kindness and cruelty, love and loss, but always tenderness wins.
I have always said my brokenness is a better bridge to others than my pretend wholeness could have ever been. This is my life, I will lean into gentleness while life is still a little raw.
Enjoy these pictures of what “trashy” tenant’s do to their landscape. I have planted all the perennials and built all the beds over the years. The flowers really do bring me such delight. I am incredibly thankful to my dear friend Vicki for sprouting this love in me. She first got me started and still contributes. She always builds me the most amazing Christmas pots.
Just planted the Clematis last year. So tickled when it started blooming this year!
The sun did rise this morning. I think I slept a little last night. Let a lot of shit go on the bike this morning.
I got to have three months with her. That’s more than I’ve had in the last 10 years. I love her so much, and I’m so grateful I got this time.
I’ll forever remember the night she laid on the couch with her head on my lap, and I stroked her hair.
I’ll remember watching a couple t v shows with her.
I’ll remember her laugh the first night on her job when I walked into the restaurant and she didn’t know I was there.
In a more gentler way, I’ll remember her anger and what didn’t go well so as not to make the same mistake again.
Today, I will pick up the pieces of my broken heart and carry on without that grey van out front of my house.
I will watch for purpose in this pain and carry it on through the next leg of the journey.
I am hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; (ehh, this one is a little debatable. I’m feeling pretty crushed right now)
perplexed, but not in despair;
persecuted, but not abandoned;
struck down, but not destroyed.
We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so his life may also be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.
Today, I am a little unwell, but I will be okay. I will rise one fucking step at a time. (cause if you know me 🤪)
I just walked out into the middle of the frozen lake, and it opened and swallowed me. The water is sucking me down. Everything is silent, I am screaming, but no sound is coming out. Darker, colder, now I am growing numb. It’s over, and I have no energy left to fight. I just lay on the bottom. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. Will I rise again, or will this be my end, too?
DAUGHTER CHALLENGES
Our conversation on Monday went disappointingly as expected but not how I hoped.
I wrote and wrote pages of notes so that when I spoke to her, I spoke with calmness and clarity. Have these past few months been a waste of time. No, probably not. I needed them. And I need to forever remember them. I need to remember that tonight, when I tried to communicate with her, she stonewalled me. I came with a pure heart. I came with a mothers love, with eyes that see the best in her. I asked her to please help me understand. “I can’t.” She says she doesn’t have a plan, doesn’t know what she wants, and can’t do more than she is. I call bullshit. I could list several things she’s done. When she first arrived here, she was incredibly pleasant, helping around the house and actively participating in life with me. She is very resourceful. Now she lays in that van all day, yesterday, bringing some guy here and having him sleep in the van with her and then hang out on the lawn all day. Seriously?! She can do a lot more than she is. She just won’t.
I won’t participate any longer in this mess. It’s a winding, hilly, pot holey road, being a parent of a mentally ill adult child. What exactly is the illness? How do you diagnose mental illness? How much is out of their control? Do meds help or not? How much do you fight for them, and really, that is up to a system stacked against the parent.
They generally are master manipulators, yet they are also very broken. I don’t think my daughter would choose this, I truly do think mental illness chooses a lot of it for her.
I did come to my end today. She was not being a good guest anymore. I had tried to talk to her again today. I had offered her an umbrella for shade. She was very negative.
I sat down beside her, my hand on her back. “I am sorry we are having a hard time coming to an agreement.” I say I ask her if she recognizes that things are different. “Yes”
“What changed?” I ask. “You keep pushing me to do too much.”
“What was the thing that crossed the line?” “This! You are always talking to me.”
“Ok, let the record show I tried.” “Ok”
“Do you want anymore work?” “Fuck no!”
I have hit my end.
What lies ahead, I dare not think about it yet. Soon, she will drive her van away for good. Will my heart be ready. No, probably not, but I can do hard things.
LANDLORD CHALLENGES
Tonight, my landlord came, knocked on the slider I could not open, and told me she was done. She came unexpectedly to mow and said there were five pieces of poop. She could find only two, but this was grounds for her kicking us both out. She told me I was trash and she was sick of “my games,” huh? You mean for paying my rent on time for 9 years and keeping the place clean and updated. That game? Oh, the game of trying to help my mentally ill daughter. That game? Fucking Christians…..sorry if you identify as a christian. I have met many wonderful humans, but Christians like her make me wretch.
‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine you did for me.’
Her lawn is her God. More important to her than a human.
There was an end I was not prepared for. That pop can burst after my landlord called me trash. The loathing I felt could not be repressed. I felt a thousand pound boulder crushing me to the ground. I have fought to believe I am worthy and to be told I am trash raised up a force in me I did not know was buried in my soul. I have bit my tongue year after year when that repugnant woman knit picked everything I did. I knew she viewed me as not Christian enough. When other neighbors would exchange their Christian speak with her, and her tone with them was so pleasant, then she would talk to me with such disgust. I let it go. I knew who I was, I fought the lies that the devil was slinging at me.
Tonight though, that fire burned up from the depths, and I let loose. I held my ground, I dropped calm and collected, and the inferno roared out of my eyes, then my mouth, and then my daughter pushed me, and I errupted. Years of frustration exited me without hesitation.
That’s when the lake devoured me. Here I sit, trying to write me way out. I’m afraid to stop writing because then I’ll have to sit alone with my feelings, with my fear. Can I?
The nights are always an empty abyss anyway. Shit, I am scared to be alone. I have to go back into my place that slumlord wants me out of. I will have to look at the nothingness I have. The housing market right now…ugh 😭 The swirling water keeps pulling me into the darkness. I can’t even raise a finger to fight. Maybe tonight I don’t. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe?
In one week, I will be 59. What is this life? What am I doing? What have I done? Tomorrow, I will revisit these questions. Tonight, I pray the peace that passes understanding finds me and sustains me. Let the wounds stop bleeding.
Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I entrust my life. Ps 143:8
Ready to burst like a pop can after it’s been shaken, that’s how I feel lately. Tip toe here, dance around the issue there, write and rewrite the new agreement so it has the best chance of being received without too much drama. Her presence reminds me so much of life during my marriage. I disappeared during those years. I lost me trying not to upset the cart. This time, I won’t let that happen. I have been very authentically me with her. It’s tiring, though always having to protect your boundaries. Thankfully, I have my safe space in my home to recharge and let my guard down.
Or not…10 am Sunday, the cops show up. Someone has called the police to say there are dogs unattended in a van on the road. Fuck!! I suppose I get it, or do I? I don’t fucking know what to do. I mean, it’s literally in front of my house. You could have knocked on my door if you were concerned. Asked if there was anything you could do to help.
The popcan is going to explode. It’s inevitable. What do I do to prevent this ugly mess. Gah! I want a drink so fucking bad. Nope, that girl is not coming back. I got rid of her a long time ago. I wanted to rest my body today, but I think I’m going to need to run, bike, or walk somewhere for a while. Maybe all three again. And eat! Eating is my new drug.
Right now, it’s rage writing. And you, dear reader, get to come along on my stormy rant.
My gut tells me this probably is not going to end well. So that means I have my lifetime left of guarding the fortess that is my mental health. There will be times when it’s easier. She won’t be here forever. Like a Magpie, she’ll spot another bright, shiny object, and she’ll chase it till it comes to another dead end.
With each diversion, my life returns to some level of peace, I get a break from the whirring of the turbulence. I get to forget there is a war raging. Not today, though. 😕I was so excited to have this morning off to sleep in. But no, at 3:30am, I woke up sure I was having a heart attack. Unrelenting chest pain. I get up and wander around and think about how badly I didn’t want to die alone. My thoughts go to all the things I want to say to her but haven’t because I don’t have the energy to say it gently nor am I up for her tempetuosness. Thank God today is not the day I get relieved of my earthly life.
I am sitting on my deck watching one bird pick debree out of the gutter and fly to a nearby tree. I wonder how many nests it’s had to build in its lifetime. I wonder how much debris it takes to build a home? All those sticks and dirt, I bet she’s built a beautiful sanctuary. On my right, somewhere is a bird that is trilling loudly and incessantly. I feel you, little bird, I have a lot to say too! Do you have to worry how you say it? Probably not, you lucky bird. You get to sit up in the tree and blare it to the world. If I could I might sit there with you and shout the fuck fest that is going on in my head right now. Probably not appropriate nor helpful, so I write out my frustration.
A bike ride on the lake shore, a little time reading on the channel and dinner fill my cup a bit. Took my mom to the lantern festival last night, and that was so fun.
Today, I will be a little less cautious with my words. I will not be mean, but I will be truthful. You can be kind and honest. I just have to be sure I have peace with the outcome. That’s the difficult piece. Seeing my girl daily no matter how messed up she is, always warms my mama’s heart. I want better for her. However, my wanting, it will never be enough. Just go rip of the Band-Aid Kym, say what ya want to say and be done with it. Someone once told me you can be uncomfortable for the 5 minutes it takes to confront an issue or be uncomfortable for as long as it goes unaddressed. Powerful thought. I will take the 5 minutes.
Yesterday was my girl’s 31st birthday. She once told me she didn’t care about how she lived her life because she wouldn’t live past 30 anyway. For many years, I never saw her on her birthday because she lived out of state. So there are no words to describe the delight I felt when I woke up yesterday and saw her van out front! My own selfish heart wanted to love on her all day. I started out the morning, bringing her a couple of little flowers and a coffee. She clearly had already made up her mind she was not going to have a good day. I chose to keep my cheerful attitude throughout the day, even giving her a big bear hug once while she rolled her eyes and huffed. Honestly, to this, I could only chuckle. I asked why she was so grumpy today, and she grumbled, “Here we go again”
It’s true this day was about me. Who knows, I may never see her again on her birthday. I only know that I get this day, and I wasn’t gonna let it slip away in animosity and disappointment.
Today, we’re back to the grind. “How can I help you? Is there anything I can do to help you be prepared to leave?”
She’ll likely disappear beneath her anger again. Not hot anger like the lava from a volcano (although I get that sometimes too), no today will be icy like a frozen lake. Her eyes have that distance in them as if standing in the middle of that frozen lake. I feel as helpless.
Often, I find myself standing in the middle of a frozen lake screaming. All I can hear is my own heartbeat, pounding. Each beat, I see my little girl. Sometimes, it is her little adventurous self, and then sometimes I see her sadness. Could I have done something different about that sadness then? I felt like I was present then, I felt like I was advocating for her at school and with therapists. What did I miss?! What am I missing now?! Out there in the vastness, emptiness, and coldness of that lake, no one answers me.
During the day, I am mostly okay. I keep busy, and I’m surrounded by good people and meaningful work. The nights, however, are hard. The tightness in my chest finds no relief. It takes hours for the exhaustion to finally pry the tight grip of aloneness and uncertainty off me, and I get a few hours of gentleness in my life. In the morning, I quickly head out for a run or a bike ride to keep the tight grip at bay a little longer. It affords me the window to escape the nighttime vise grip.
This journey is my pilgrimage. It moves me closer to God, further from myself.
“When you can’t go back, you have to worry only about the best way of moving forward.” ~ Paulo Coelho “The Alchemist “
I can’t go back, and the only way forward is one step at a time. I gather up my broken heart and carry on. Love is my guide. “When we love, we always strive to become better than we are. When we strive to become better than we are, everything around us becomes better too”
I thought it time to pop in here with an update on my daughter who is experiencing homelessness. Since late March, I have seen situations I could not have imagined. I have experienced a super natural force directing my words and actions that are without explanation. I have no idea how this will end, but I will be forever changed for the better because of this experience. Before I tell you about these past several weeks, there are a few terms that I feel are important to understand.
Homeless by definition is having no home or permanent place of residence.
Shelterless is defined as affording no shelter or cover, as from the elements.
In 2011, I found myself no longer able to afford the rent where I lived with my two youngest daughters. For just shy of a year, we found ourselves living in various basements or someone’s unused apartment. We were homeless. I finally found a place to rent that I could (barely) afford, eventually leading to me reconciling with their dad (now divorced from 🤷♀️)and moving back in with him. It was a very discouraging time in my life. Yet I always had shelter. We never had to sleep in a vehicle. To this day, I live knowing that every month, I am only months away from homelessness again. I share this very raw fact about my life because unless you have experienced it, there is no way you can imagine it. There is no way you can understand the background noise of uncertainty that you continually push down. There is no way you can understand that feeling of needing to deprive yourself of every fun thing to survive, yet needing some fun frivolous thing to survive. There is no way you can know the loneliness, the hopelessness, the disappointment in yourself, the constant longing for stability. I used to see homeless people and think to myself, “Your choices got you here, make different choices, and you can change your situation” Now I look at homeless people and I so badly want to sit with them and hear their story, I think to myself “that is someone’s child.” There is no doubt choices play a huge role in each of our lives. Every day, I try to make choices that widen the gap between me and homelessness. There would never be a divide between me and homelessness without the support and mentorship I received from some amazing people. They helped me help myself.
So, how does this relate to my daughter? Well, it’s complicated! Knowing what I knew, I suppose there was a little more fire in me to fight for her than someone who may not fully understand a homeless mindset. Also, I know from my experience with panic attacks that sometimes you have to scale WAY back.
After we could not come to an agreement about her living with me, I sent her an email. This is what it said….
I am sorry we couldn’t come to an agreement on a living situation for you.
Here are the things I can offer you. * You are welcome to use my phone for appointments * use of my bathroom (shower, toilet, etc) * You make park in the driveway. No need to give me notice. You may come anytime, day or night, to use the driveway. * You may use the kitchen for eating or studying
If a situation arises that any of this becomes a problem, I will talk to you about them before revoking the privilege. I will give you 2 weeks’ notice if any of these options change.
My therapist suggested I add “no need to give notice to park in the driveway.” And sure enough, one blustery snowy morning, she was parked in my driveway. Since then, things have been one step forward, and many steps not moved, but none necessarily backwards, I don’t think 😬 One evening I told her “I believe in you, I need you to meet me in the middle and believe in yourself ” She adamantly told me she could not meet me in the middle. We discussed an initial timeline of two weeks, and if she was trying to improve her situation, then we would re-evaluate. In those two weeks, I saw her try….teeny tiny baby steps, but they were huge compared to what I have seen. So we set a new date to re-evaluate. I’ve come to realize. I don’t need her to meet me in the middle, I just need her to meet me on the road. I am constantly having to remind her I am not the enemy, I am not trying to punish her. On the flip side, she is a very conscientious guest. She cleans up after herself and sometimes after me.
She at the moment has made some small steps to getting back on her feet. A couple of restaurant owners I know have offered her jobs. She met with one of them last week. There are absolutely no words to describe how amazing this person was. She and her husband not only met my daughter on the road, but they took her by the hand and said, “we’ll walk with you whatever that looks like” It was rough getting this to happen though. She agreed to a job interview and then felt incredibly overwhelmed by that. So I said, “Let’s just have dinner. You have to eat anyway, and you can meet the owner.” She reluctantly agreed to that, but the day of going there, she was very disregulated. However, once there, the owners and staff loved on her, and she brightened up. I saw the amazing young woman I know her to be.
I can potentially give her another month to park in my driveway, and honestly, after that, I don’t see any good options for her. It’s really frustrating to find housing right now. I myself am struggling to find affordable housing and I have a full time job. Getting her back on her feet is going to take time and we just don’t have that much time until she is back on the streets living out of her van……shelterless. When you are in that state of just trying to survive its so hard to have energy to do anything else. Praying for a miracle, praying for wisdom, for clarity, and for super human patience. Which, I have already witnessed all of these. God is for sure revealing Himself in this story.
All of this makes me think about the fact that I have connections, I have resources, and I am advocating for her. People have done and still do this for me. What about those who don’t? How do we meet people on the road they are on? Some of us never see that road. I never would have if my daughter hadn’t landed on it. Jesus sought out those people, He loved on those people. It’s a challenge, for sure. I have lost my shit a few times lately. It’s not pretty. I have laid on the floor scanning around me for a sharp object to put me out of my misery. Just this morning, as I was cycling on my bike trainer and feeling overwhelmed by it all, I had the thought that people had survived Auschwitz. Wtf, is wrong with this picture, I can do this! A few minutes pep talk later, and I am ready to come out swinging again. That’s how it goes when you love. Love is really fucking not fun sometimes. The other night my daughter came in the house to say good night and leaned in for a hug. ❤️❤️ The best reward for all the hard work. I want to be around for those moments so I have to hang in there through all the uncomfortable moments.
These two feelings are always dancing so intimately when my troubled daughter is near. She was here staying in my driveway for two nights. I enjoyed it in so many dangerous ways. I allowed myself to slip into that enchanting other world where we share space together. We have hot drinks and talk about life and dreams. The thread that binds us is thick and warms us like a soft blanket. There is laughter and lightness.
The ugly villain is lurking around the corner, though. I know he is there, I know he is laughing at my momentary blindness to the reality that will soon snatch me out of this beautiful story. What if it’s different this time, though? What if we actually hear each other, and what if I finally say the thing? The thing that will let her know how much I really love her and its enough to lift her up. Get those wings of hers flying high above the trauma and past hurts. Silly girl, I hear the villain say. Fuck you, I whisper back. (Cause if you know me 😉)
Again, today is not that day. As hard as I try, heartbreak waltzes back into the ballroom and steals my dancing partner away. Not forever, though because without hope, I have nothing. So I let heartache whirl me around a few songs, and then I leave the dance. I know the holes that heartbreak carves into my soul leave more room for joy to fill.
Someday, I hope my girl and I will enjoy coffee and conversation. In the meantime, there is this other magical garden I get to dance in. Within it are the beautiful flowers my other two daughters have blossomed into. My oldest and her husband have blessed me with two precious little grandchildren. Time with this daughter regularly fills my cup. My youngest daughter is wise and full of light. She and her significant other will be moving back mid-May. I can’t wait to spend time with them more regularly.
Heartache and Joy, you can not have one without the other. The greater the heartache, the deeper the well for joy. The ache has taught me so much about the less comfortable side of life. The challenges presented by this daughter are a gift of understanding. An awareness of circumstances I would have avoided if given the choice. Her sisters bless me with the opposite enlightenment. The illumination of true grace, of patience, of connectedness.
I wish it didn’t hurt so much when the disconnect occurs. When my hopes and dreams for us once again disappear like a vapor of smoke. I try to be thankful for both heartache and joy. For they often coexist in the same moment, in the very same breath.
I suppose there are many ends we come to in life. This past weekend, I came so close to one that I never want to revisit again. Our daughter who is currently homeless went silent for 4 days in some really awful weather. It was unexpected as we had just had lunch on Thursday. I didn’t see any reason we wouldn’t hear from her that weekend. Especially since I emailed the next day to let her know she could come in for some warmth and use my kitchen.
Her lifestyle, the past 10 years, has always lent to some uncertainty, and I was fairly okay with that. I don’t think any parent is ever completely ok with a wandering kid. I’m sure there are some who are better at it than me, although I feel I had gotten pretty good at it. Her choices over the last 10 years have left my nerves frayed, yet I also loved her adventurous spirit. Some of those choices and her adventurous spirit have sent her through hell. Every time I think she may have hit bottom, she rises again.
As a parent over the last ten years, I’ve had to make many decisions about where my boundaries are. I can tell you that many of those decisions came from fear, and a lot of them came from wanting my own comfort. For example, we have paid for dozens of phones because I wanted the comfort of being able to reach her. I really didn’t give a shit if she had a phone. It made me feel comfortable knowing that I could reach her or that she could reach out if she needed help. We have always kept our door open to her if she needed a place to stay. Until about two years ago, she never took us up on that.
In May of 2021, she was the victim of an assault in Florida and in October 2021 her dad picked her up from a small town in Georgia, (That had no idea what to do with a person having a mental breakdown). She began the journey of living with her dad for almost two years. I’ll spare you the gory details, but it’s suffice to say it was not pretty. We all, I’m sure, did a lot wrong, but I also know we did a lot, right. We reached out to a therapist to help guide us, and we did the best that we could. It still was continually ugly.
When she left in August of 2023 , I found a new boundary. I would allow her to live with me only if she agreed to family therapy.
When she went silent and we thought something might have happened to her I had to face my feelings about this new boundary. A few people have asked me why this time was so hard for me when she had been homeless before. I would say that there are a couple of reasons for that.
1. When she had been homeless in the past, she was living in another state. When they live in another state, you don’t hear from them regularly anyway. So since she was here and we were hearing from her at least every other day, the loss of contact from her was more obvious.
2. When she was homeless in the past, there was always someone in her life that sort of kept us up to date on her whereabouts. We knew her friends and could reach out to them. No friends that we knew of in this area to contact.
So over the weekend, when it was rainy and cold and my mind started to spiral, I had to face the worst-case scenarios playing in my mind. It was hard. I haven’t cried that much in a long time. There was one brief moment where I completely came unglued. It had been reported to us that her van had been abandoned and was towed away. I completely lost it, thinking that she was somewhere without any shelter. However, we soon discovered that it was a different van and not hers.
Thankfully, by Monday afternoon, she was located and was fine. We are told her van had broken down and she did not have Wi-Fi.
But what if it hadn’t had a happy ending? Would I have been able to live with the boundaries I had set?
My therapist helped me reframe these on Monday, and I think it’s exactly what I needed. She had me write down all the things that I have offered my daughter in the way of help.
She is welcome to use my phone anytime.
She is welcome to come here for food
She is welcome to use my shower or bathroom
She is welcome to live here if she agrees to family therapy twice a month
I have given her resources to get a phone and would gladly help her fill out the necessary forms.
I will love her and hug her at any time.
I do love my daughter so very much. So much that I want to offer her a way to be independent, not offer her dependence on me or anyone else.
This is so much easier said than done. I will probably have moments of coming undone again. I pray for the best possible outcome and brace for the worst.
I have had so many people reach out to me with similar stories. Your stories have immensely buoyed me. I’m so sorry that you have to face similar circumstances, but I’m thankful you shared your hearts with me.
I don’t have any answers. Unlike the county in Georgia, I think my county is really trying to meet people where they are. A deputy from our county reached out to me today and then to my daughter with some really great resources. More than the resources, this officer built a bridge to her with genuine concern. I am super impressed with what our county is trying to do to help with the mental health crisis. I think this is what we all need. I know it’s what I needed, and many of you provided…. a bridge off the island. To be connected, to not feel so alone.
I recently heard a story about an olive tree. Three lessons from an olive tree.
1. The olive tree grows with the harsh winds coming off the desert from the west and the refreshing winds off the sea from the east.
2. The fruit it bears is often very bitter and goes through a very lengthy softening process.
3. It’s not the fruit of the tree that so valuable, but the oil from the fruit.
I am growing from the harsh circumstances and the refreshing winds of friends. The fruit of my growth is definitely taking its time to be softened and I hope the oil produced will be useful to others facing difficult circumstances. I know the oil from others has been a blessing to me.
Always growing, always learning, always trying to be a better human for me and for others.
This was first written on Nov. 30, 2022. As I struggled with my feelings and emotions today, I went to write, and I noticed this post. It’s so ironic that it is very much what i’m feeling again today. Some things are better, some are worse.
November 2022
I should not be writing. It’s the middle of the day I should be working. But my mind is clouded with bewilderment. I can’t quiet my mind. It keeps asking, “Should I call her?” Bring her a coffee? Text her? My magical thinking takes over……if I show her how much I love her, she’ll believe me, and the tide will turn. If only….
Last week I met her for a cup of coffee. I bought her a Starbucks Coffee and sat to talk with her about her living situation. She absolutely detests living with her dad, which causes life to be pretty unpleasant. I wanted to see what things she had thought about and if I could offer any solutions. Maybe we could brain storm together something better. “Together”, for all my reveries of us working things out together, today will not be the day. Instead she stands and storms out with her $7 coffee I bought her calling me a G**damn C***.
For a few days I am “done”. Done trying to work with her, done trying to help, done caring. Then Thanksgiving comes and my heart aches for her. Alone on Thanksgiving. This is a state of affairs she has brought on herself of course. Although does someone who’s so mentally ill really know how to be anything else. Anger, bitterness, blame…..these are her daily assessories. She wants to be loved yet pushes us away
I know she was supposed to have a surgery today that she was really looking forward to having. However she couldn’t find someone to take her, and she would of course not ask us.
So I am swung like a ship on stormy seas, vascillating between the “done” I desire and the tight grip of motherly love. Dang it! I am quite annoyed that I care. Or am I? How numb I would have to be to really not care. The best I can do is love with healthy boundaries.
Meeting her for coffee probably isn’t a good idea. A text message perhaps is the best place to start. Let her know she is on my mind, that I love her. Then let it go! Go back to work, go and be the responsible adult I need to be. All I can control is me.
I love you my sweet daughter. You can throw your hate at me all you want, it will never cause me stop loving you. I will no longer support you financially, and I will put a safe distance between us, but my love for you has no end 🥰
March 8, 2024
Yesterday, I took her out for lunch. She is now homeless, jobless, no money, no phone. She and her two dogs live out of her rundown van with one window that doesn’t close. The sickness I feel when I state those realities knowing I could give her a home. We have, others have and it always ends disastrously. So I have to not bend the line drawn. We will not give her a home until she agrees to family therapy. We simply are not equipped to handle her needs without guidance. So far, it’s been a hard no from her.
The gut-wrenching fear at night, oh how my soul screams for some relief. It pleads for the horror movie reel playing in my mind to be stopped. I lay there and pray for God to send angels of protection. I have to release her to God. She has always been His, He loves her more than I do.
What do I do? How can I help without enabling? What would give her wings? I hate this SO much. I can get busy in my day, and there is a slight reprieve from the underlying anxiety. All it takes is a slight shift of the air, and I am snapped back to the room with the shrinking walls. I can continue to meet with her when I can get a hold of her. She has a laptop to check email. The hours/days in between when I send an email and I receive an answer are a special hell of their own.
There are no support groups or resources for guidance. Only this lonely road, buffered by tiny glimmers. It’s such a balancing act, don’t get my hopes up, but also don’t lose hope.
At the moment there is 1300 homeless people in our city. I am not alone, that is 1300+ other people who knows the agony of a homeless loved one. I hope this story has a good ending. I know my daughter is amazing and is capable of amazing things. I pray that like any plant that has survived the harshest winter and springs forth to bear summer fruit that my girl will too, find her way through the dirt to the sunshine that was meant for her.
This is right after we finish. This is exactly what Derrick ran in. The hey dude slip ons made me so happy.
I have met so many incredible people in my life, but every now and again, I get to meet a super amazing person. This chance meeting was undoubtedly a Godstop, a God ordained moment in my life. An hour and 40 minutes to remind me who God is and how He operates.
Two significant themes in my life the past few years have been my struggles with anxiety and my deep search into who God is, what God is. What about this story we have been told, and why do we so blindly follow it. Along this journey, God has shown up in some intriguing ways and sometimes people. But honestly, it is more often in the world as a whole and around me.
This weekend, I was facing that new challenge. Traveling to a race with a friend and running without course support.
On Saturday night, I sat with my daughter and asked her if she was going to come to the race. “If you want me to,” she says. I knew that this was not really something she wanted to do, and I couldn’t blame her. As she pointed out, she sits there for an hour, only to see me run by for 6 seconds. 🤣 I said I would be fine and mostly I believed I would be but there was this little nagging fear in me that I had to overcome. Later that night she text me to say that she would be there if I wanted her to, and I again said I would trust God and face that fear.
Sunday morning, I woke up with an increased amount of anxiety. I texted her and Jeff to ask for prayers. She responded that she would get dressed and come to the start line. “No, no,” I said. I’m going to trust God to raise up a person or equip me with whatever I need to win against the anxiety. Because I had faced so many smaller dragons, I had built up a bit more confidence in my ability to face the anxiety.
My friend and I made our way to the start line. She was so encouraging. I know that she’s got me if I need it. I also know that I can call Kendra if I have a complete meltdown on the course. I scan the start line looking for this special person that God has for me. I started chatting with this really lovely woman. She even thanked me for chatting with her because she was here from Indiana.
The gun goes off, and I start running. Less than half a mile in this guy says “hi.”
I respond with, “Hi, how are you today?”
He responds, “Great! Today is the best day of my life!”
O k now I’m intrigued. I don’t know if he said anything else before he started talking about a book he was reading. You know me, I love books! So now I’m really intrigued. I learned that he has been sober ten years, and just this past January 2nd, he gave up marijuana. He shares a bit about that journey. Then I share that I have a daughter who struggles. He asked her name, and then for the next half mile, he prays for her by name. Detailed prayers, not just your, please be with this person prayer but deep, meaning prayer. Throughout the next 13 miles, we run side by side. Sharing our hearts and him often praying for people in my life by name.
Derrick did not immediately strike me as someone I would end up running 13 miles at a 7:40 pace with. If I’m being honest, I don’t even think I would have seen him as a typical runner. Which I guess he isn’t a typical runner. We didn’t talk about his latest strava stats or his racing accomplishments. (He doesn’t have a smartphone or the internet) Although he does have a goal of doing an ironman, and I absolutely believe he will. He will complete an Ironman event, but he is already a superhero.
This is who God is. This is the God I’ve come to know over the past couple of years. He blends into the landscape of his creation, and he isn’t keeping track of his stats or mine, thankfully. There is no pressure to perform. There is only love in action. He is not checking to see if I am in a church building, He is out there on the course in his “Hey Dude” shoes. Just having a conversation without an agenda. No agenda. That is the real God. Because He knows that we need love. Once we know love, we will desire more of Him.
I have no idea if I will ever see Derek again. But I can tell you the thread he wove into the fabric of my life will shimmer a little brighter than some of the others. I believe he was a God sighting, and it spurred me to love more openly. To love without an agenda. To love without staking a line in the sand. To love without fear of hurt or judgment. To love because I know love.
findingkympossible 