Well... we survived.
I came home Tuesday, from work, to find DQ had broken every rule she could think of. I'll spare you the details. All in line with causing as much chaos as possible before she left.
Wednesday I decided not to go to work. I hadn't slept. My stomach was acting up. (yeah I'm eating prilosec again) I had this awful feeling that if I left her alone again, I might not have a house to come back to. She mostly hid in her room and so did I. I kept tearing up that morning. Feeling like a failure as a parent. Feeling like shit for looking forward to her leaving. Wavering back and forth between guilt and anger. It Was Not a good day.
Thursday I was exhausted. From the moment I got out of bed, I couldn't wait for the day to be over and climb back in.
We got to the group home about 1 in the afternoon. Its a small little house in the middle of a nice neighborhood. No signage or anything indicating there is a facility there. There is no more than 4 girls at a time and they all have a mental health diagnosis.
The home is owned and run by two black sisters. Black actually matters, in that, they have this sassy, 'blood is thicker than water, ain't takin' no lip from mouthy teenager girls, you better do what your mama told you', kind of way. I love them both already. They have the same expectations and rules that I have.
When we first arrived, it was all "Hi, nice to meet ya", "This is an opportunity, not a punishment", laughing and talking and getting a feel for each other. And right in the middle of all that, one of the sisters got very serious. Her entire demeanor changed. She spoke to DQ with a deadly quiet tone. "I've read your file. You seem to think it's ok to put your hands on your mama. Let me tell you, no matter what our mama did, no matter how she pissed us off, it never crossed my mind to touch my mother. Why? Simply put, because she was my mother. The title itself means you automatically respect her. I don't care if she walks in the house and bashes you upside your head. You still don't get to put your hands on your mama. No one in your life is ever going to love and care for you as much as that lady. She gave birth to you. That is all she had to do to earn your respect. You don't have to like it. It doesn't matter what she does to you. You can have your opinions. You can be angry. But there is never an acceptable reason to touch your mother."
I think you get the picture. These ladies aren't takin no shit from this kid.
They ask that there be no contact for 30 days. We get an exception because we have court on Monday. Other than that, no visits or phone calls. It's a reality check for DQ and a break for me. They actually told me to go home, relax, breathe and have a big glass of wine. "Don't worry, mom. We got this."
I drove home without the radio on. Lost in my head. In silent contemplation. I am comfortable in saying, this is exactly what DQ needs.
Itty Bit and Mr. Security have been here for me the last couple days. Itty bit isn't even aware what good she does me. Her hugs and her laughter keep me out of my head. And when I kept waking up with nightmares, Mr. Security just held on tight and talked to me. Letting me know that I wasn't alone. He's been here for 3 days, offering to help in anyway he can. But most importantly, he's here waiting to catch me if I fall apart.
So we've made it to the other side of this insanity. I think. I'm still unsure about the near future. But I'm sleeping. My stomach is starting to settle. I'm coming out of my twilight zone style fog.
I did have that glass of wine. Ok, I admit it was more like half the bottle. I think I earned it.