It never rains...

So, my daughter, my lovely wonderful smart funny thoughtful daughter, is imploding again.

The phone calls apparently started around 8:30 on Saturday evening. Usually this means she wants a ride, or me to bring her something. With the current state of things here, me being on the icky medication and tired tired tired all. the. time. and her being 20, I am not down. So, I ignored it, and turned off my ringer so I could go back to sleep. Apparently, the calls didn't stop.

Around 2am Jim comes up and says, Cassady is calling again. I ignored it. Was that bad? My response? No! It's fucking 2am!!! Not cool, not okay, she's not 15, she's 20. She's chosen to be a party girl despite everything, we have other things to think about, like, who's getting up with Connor (HER son!) in another 3 hours. She makes her choices, she has to deal with her consequences. And we parent her seriously major life choice every day while she continues to flail. Then, a bit later, 2am again, only 3 to our brains as the clocks had JUST gone back that hour, our son calls. He is with his sister. She is not in good shape. She is covered in blood and cuts and bruises, and is high as a kite, and has just seen a friend completely freak out on acid, smashing all of his material possessions and putting his arms through his bedroom window, resulting in life-threatening arterial slice to an arm. Jorma asks if we want him to take her to his house for the night, he's got her out at the 24 hour diner having coffee, and she can crash on his couch, but can we please come get her sometime on Sunday? Holy hell. Oh. My. God. Yes, please, and of course we can.

This was the culmination of a couple rough weeks for her... stress with a straight job, a boy doing the 'it's not you, it's me' thing, too much alcohol, checking herself into a mental health crisis center for a week, missing all the Halloween parties. Gotta make up for missing those... yeah. How'd that work out for ya'?

*sigh*

So, she got sent back to California, back to her grandma, aunt, uncle and cousins, where she usually does well, where people get her, get us, get her life history, and adore her in all her crass, loud, emotional, creative, brilliance. By the time she gets to her usual desire to split from there, we'll be gone from here, so if she wants to come back to the cesspool again, it's all on her. She'll be 21 in March. I'll be in Montana by mid-June. Her brother will likely be in Ann Arbor. No family to come back to. If these people she thinks are her friends are enough to pull her in again, well, nothing I can do to stop it, but for sure nothing I'm going to do to facilitate it. I'm quite sure she can and will eventually pull her head out of her ass and be just fine. Just hoping that can happen without prison or death coming first.