My 20-year-old daughter "ran away from home". Of course, at 20, you don't run. You just leave. But she left with a text to say good-bye. She left with allegations of verbal abuse. She left. Just like that.
Her aunt who lived with us for six months this past year and is a social worker by trade assures me she never saw any abuse, verbal or otherwise. Because I thought, "My God, was I abusive?!?!?" Her aunt was mostly housebound due to illness and rarely left except to go to doctor appointments. So it's not like this accusation was based on anything seen by anyone in our lives. In fact, none of the people who know us well believe her allegations.
My daughter was a desperately wanted, hard-worked-for, long awaiting blessing in our lives; especially in mine. I had prayed endlessly for her. And then a miracle happened and there she was. I worked hard to be a great mom. She told me all the time that I was. Her friends who knew us told me that I was. Approaching the high school for a meeting once, one of her friends yelled, "R's mom! The best mom in the world!"
My daughter and I laughed, went shopping and on outings, giggled, talked together all the time. And yes, there were raised voices. Almost always over chores that she was asked to complete and fought like a dragon not to do. We, mostly me, asked kindly and sometimes even with a please three, four, or more times in an attempt to get her to do them. But sometimes, she just would not. Yes, sometimes she did. Even once in a while she would surprise me and do them without a word! But when she wouldn't, there was anger. When she was no longer a child, and I would say especially in the last year, I would get angry enough to call her a "little shit". And a few times, a"bitch". I'm not proud of that. I feel a great deal of guilt that I allowed my anger to get the best of me at those times. I am willing to generously estimate I said "little shit" a good 6 times, maybe 8. I estimate I said "bitch" maybe 4 times. I did say she was being lazy often - because she was. But then I texted it at the end of begging her to return home rather than go to a shelter. And that she posted on Facebook. The time I am out of my mind, terrified, heart-wrenched to my wit's end and I lose it. That goes on Facebook.
I had to block my clients, family from Iran who would not understand such a disrespectful display in a country where children would not dare to behave in that manner. I blocked people from our church. I shut down, lost my contacts, ended my socialization outside of work that day and I don't know when I can get it back.
I'm angry about it. I find it appalling and outlandish behavior. Had it not been for my writing groups and my high school friends, I would have immediately shut down my Facebook for good. I am angry she thought it okay to affect my life with her lies in this manner. And yes, although I just thought I must have been the worst mother ever at first, after speaking to many, many friends who have raised teenagers and experienced the exact same thing - most of them including the names when pushed to their limits - I realized this is not about me. It's about her. She needed something to force her to leave home because she had become complacent in her safety here at home. And most disagreeable to her, she didn't want to move out of state with us when we go for her father's work.
I'd been trying to help. I understood she didn't want to go. I get that she easily attaches to things. I had been helping with job ideas and applications, buying clothes so that would not be a concern, bought her a car before we really could manage it and which was totaled by her two days later, although, in her defense, accidents do happen. She certainly didn't intend to wreck it. I reassured her it was okay to grow up, move out. That's what's supposed to happen. Yes, I would help her. Yes, I would be here for her. But yes, I wished she would move to the new state we plan to move to in about a year and it would be so hard not to take her with us. But yes, I understood.
And all that time, I was making sure she NEVER felt she was being pushed out. I only did it little by little to not overwhelm her. But somewhere along the line, she was poisoned by thoughts that were untrue of our interactions and there was no changing her mind. And there still isn't. Now she wants to move far enough away that family counseling will not be able to happen. So she will never believe anything different than what she has set in her mind. And so I have truly lost my daughter. My precious, precious child who has been my whole heart for so long I cannot bare its emptiness now.
I wanted to die that night. Had my husband not called me, I would have. I'd already taken two of the heart pills that I planned to take slowly, to avoid vomiting them up. It was the first time I'd felt suicidal since I was a teenager and tried to wreck a car. Yes, I'm seeking help with a counselor and no, I am no longer suicidal. But my heart sure is empty. The biggest hole I've ever felt. And I don't know if that will ever repair. I can't imagine it will.
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