Don't we look like a duo of bad assy-ness? I think so.
08 May 2009
Exclamations!
Moon Beam is back from the middle of Nowhere, TX! She has been gone for months and months and months. Let the mayhem commence!
Don't we look like a duo of bad assy-ness? I think so.
Don't we look like a duo of bad assy-ness? I think so.
03 May 2009
Jaded
I'm in a bit of a snarky mood. A cumulation of events has brought me to this place. I try not to get too personal when writing here but we all know how unsuccessful I've been with that. Who cares though, it's my blog. If I say something someone else doesn't like they can type up in that little tool bar doo-hickey and be gone in an Internet flash. But I would really appreciate if you stayed. You see, all the personal ramblings seem to help a little. Knowing that maybe one person read, and maybe even related to what I wrote helps me to cope.
Unfortunately, I haven't talked about this in the past so I have no choice but to fill you in on the arduous back story. My 20 year-old sister has been living with Bridge Man and me since December. She got herself into trouble living on her own and needed some help. We agreed to take her in but with some stipulations. No drugs, no alcohol, no boyfriends at the house. We did not want her bringing the drama of her past into our lives.
We talked to her about going to school and getting a good job. We talked about paying off her old debts. We talked to her about staying away from friends who might sway her back into old habits. We've done a lot of talking over these past five months. Instead of getting a good job and going to school she sleeps all day, goes to work for a few hours as a waitress, comes home to stay up and watch TV all night, only to start the cycle again in the morning. After a few weeks of this I get frustrated and talk to her again. She needs to get motivated, to DO something with her life. She gets motivated for a day or two and then falls back into old habits.
A few months into her stay with us we find her drug paraphernalia in our spare bedroom. I get mad. She cries and tells me that it's the only thing that helps her to get past all the bad things that have happened to her. I feel bad for her. One more chance.
She takes my clothes. She stole my makeup. She went through my filing cabinet to find stamps and paper to write to her boyfriend who is currently in jail. These things go on every week she is here. Whatever, she's a ignorant teenager who does ignorant stuff. A month or so goes by. A bottle of Vicodin that Bridge Man had after a surgical procedure comes up missing. She denies all allocations. Last week, I opened a bottle of wine and had a glass. This week the bottle is missing. She denies all allocations. A few days ago I pick her up from work and she is wearing my scarf. Straw, camel, broken back.
I flipped out. I screamed at her the entire 10 minute drive home. I flail my arms wildly and hit my fists into the steering wheel. (Side note: I should not have been driving at that moment.) I screamed so loudly that I was hoarse for the next two days.
I am at the end of my rope. Everything of value has been taken out of the spare bedroom where she sleeps and stuffed into our bedroom. Everything that cannot be taken out has been locked up, tied down, or hidden somewhere else. I organize things in the medicine cabinet in a way I can tell if someone has been in there.
I am living in a prison. My house has become a prison.
I grew up with drug addicts and alcoholics my whole life. I made the decision a long time ago to stay away from those substances because I didn't want to end up the way so many in my family have. My mom, my brothers, my sisters and myself were abused by addicts for so long. And now I have invited an addict into my house to take advantage of the fact that I am her sister. She knows that I won't kick her out. What would happen to her if I did kick her out? She would go back to the unhealthy life she was living. If anything bad was to happen to her because I kicked her out... I couldn't imagine the guilt.
Unfortunately, I haven't talked about this in the past so I have no choice but to fill you in on the arduous back story. My 20 year-old sister has been living with Bridge Man and me since December. She got herself into trouble living on her own and needed some help. We agreed to take her in but with some stipulations. No drugs, no alcohol, no boyfriends at the house. We did not want her bringing the drama of her past into our lives.
We talked to her about going to school and getting a good job. We talked about paying off her old debts. We talked to her about staying away from friends who might sway her back into old habits. We've done a lot of talking over these past five months. Instead of getting a good job and going to school she sleeps all day, goes to work for a few hours as a waitress, comes home to stay up and watch TV all night, only to start the cycle again in the morning. After a few weeks of this I get frustrated and talk to her again. She needs to get motivated, to DO something with her life. She gets motivated for a day or two and then falls back into old habits.
A few months into her stay with us we find her drug paraphernalia in our spare bedroom. I get mad. She cries and tells me that it's the only thing that helps her to get past all the bad things that have happened to her. I feel bad for her. One more chance.
She takes my clothes. She stole my makeup. She went through my filing cabinet to find stamps and paper to write to her boyfriend who is currently in jail. These things go on every week she is here. Whatever, she's a ignorant teenager who does ignorant stuff. A month or so goes by. A bottle of Vicodin that Bridge Man had after a surgical procedure comes up missing. She denies all allocations. Last week, I opened a bottle of wine and had a glass. This week the bottle is missing. She denies all allocations. A few days ago I pick her up from work and she is wearing my scarf. Straw, camel, broken back.
I flipped out. I screamed at her the entire 10 minute drive home. I flail my arms wildly and hit my fists into the steering wheel. (Side note: I should not have been driving at that moment.) I screamed so loudly that I was hoarse for the next two days.
I am at the end of my rope. Everything of value has been taken out of the spare bedroom where she sleeps and stuffed into our bedroom. Everything that cannot be taken out has been locked up, tied down, or hidden somewhere else. I organize things in the medicine cabinet in a way I can tell if someone has been in there.
I am living in a prison. My house has become a prison.
I grew up with drug addicts and alcoholics my whole life. I made the decision a long time ago to stay away from those substances because I didn't want to end up the way so many in my family have. My mom, my brothers, my sisters and myself were abused by addicts for so long. And now I have invited an addict into my house to take advantage of the fact that I am her sister. She knows that I won't kick her out. What would happen to her if I did kick her out? She would go back to the unhealthy life she was living. If anything bad was to happen to her because I kicked her out... I couldn't imagine the guilt.
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