3/8/2016 Here’s a big deal, a really big deal. My mother died last March after suffering mercilessly from lung cancer. It was eight months of sickness and pain, as she tried and tried to beat it, be strong, and not think like a patient. But cancer is an asshole, and doesn’t care that it blindsides victims that don’t deserve the torture. She was the love of our lives, the light in our eyes, and we can’t have her anymore. My…
12/9/2011 Underneath it all, I have a tremendous amount of guilt. I have bouts where I feel so damn guilty about who and what my daughter has become, even though logically I know that much of what’s happened is inherent in her, and is her doing. I see how successful my other child is and, knowing that I parented them equally—with equal values, equal love, and equal experiences—their perspectives, personalities, and personas are vastly different. That said, my guilt these…
12/2/2011 Sadly, life with my troubled teen has been dismal and miserable for the past few weeks. I’m a bundle of nerves, stressed to the point of physical illness, and spend my days grinding my teeth and feeling like I’m suffocating. I can’t say or do anything right; even my most innocuous comments, like “Have a good day,” are met with disdain and disgust. It’s like she turned on me all of a sudden. I’ve been trying to reflect on…
10/17/2011 I truly don’t know what to do about this current situation. If you refer back to my post about the lies my daughter has told me thus far, I wrote that post while in a tongue-in-cheek mood, as if I was only “looking back” on bad times and that they were over. Well, I just bit my tongue and it hurts. There was a big juicy lie on that list—the one that says she doesn’t have a tattoo; after all, she said,…
10/11/2011 Nothing really too mindboggling has gone on with my kid in recent weeks (could be months). No police calls, no catching her with dope, no arguments, no new piercings or tattoos. Her appearance is what’s baffling me. My daughter is beautiful, exotic, you could even say sexy and voluptuous (G-d help me). Why is she uglifying herself? One thing I wonder about is why she changed her gorgeous, thick, black mane to a freaky red/auburn/violet muddle. She’s done it…
9/12/2011 I particularly wanted to find out about my daughters’ age groups. The survey says: Young Adults Aged 18 to 25 In 2010, the rate of current illicit drug use was higher among young adults aged 18 to 25 (21.5 percent) than among youths aged 12 to 17 (10.1 percent) and adults aged 26 or older (6.6 percent). Among young adults, the rates were 18.5 percent for marijuana, 5.9 percent for nonmedical use of psychotherapeutic drugs, 2.0 percent for hallucinogens, and 1.5 percent for cocaine. In 2010,…
8/8/2011 I am a mother in despair, in a crisis emotionally and it’s taken me two days to process why I had another lost weekend, time I will never get back. As usual, there’s a long, involved reason. Last week, my “troubled teen” had her final (??) day in court, for what they call a pre-adjudication hearing. Essentially, she had to plead guilty for a shoplifting charge, apologize for it, and they would formally drop all the other pending charges. Then…
6/27/2011 A good Sunday to report. I took my daughter and her “best friend” to a play: Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. It was so enjoyable to share a cultural event with them, and remind them that there’s good drama that has nothing to do with the island they live on. We all thoroughly enjoyed the show and we went out for a lunch afterward and had a nice conversation. At lunch, I just had to ask some pointed questions. I had…
6/23/2011 Within the last week, I’ve spoken to the new probation officer assigned to my daughter’s case, for which she’s appearing next week. I had a great conversation with the woman, and she clearly is convinced that my daughter is nothing less than a saint—two jobs, enrolling in school, “thinking of” volunteering for Habitat for Humanity…Why wouldn’t she? I talked her up for an hour, explaining that she had a tough time for a while, that she is now being…
6/2/2011 I think my daughter is a schlimazel—you know, the one who doesn’t do the stuff all the time, the one who it gets done TO. I think it was explained as the schlemiel spills the soup and the schlimazel is the one it’s spilled on. For her, she’s done relatively well overall. No accidents, no tickets, no arrests, not too many bad moods, and not even staying out late. So, we blindly carry on, trying to forget about the…