I am grateful grateful grateful. I am grateful for Skype’s feature of calling landlines. I am now back with my Oakland sponsor; the fact that she now lives in Merida in Mexico means nothing. The call quality was awesome and I will be paying $5.95 a month for unlimited minutes. Cool!
I am grateful that I know that I am not alone. That I can give Rose to the goddess over and over and over again. I know that I’ve been here before, that I’ve said before that I am done enabling Rose and then I’ve caved. I feel different this time. I’m not angry. [Well, maybe just a little.] I’m not in a rage; I’m grounded. I’m grounded in the knowing that I am not doing right by my daughter by enabling her. I am not. And I trust Rose and I know Rose has her own loving higher power and that entity *is not me*. And I’m grounding myself from rescuing her any more. I’m on restriction.
I have lit a candle for Rose and prayed for her. And I have lifted my arms up to the heavens and let her go. With all the love I have. I love love love my daughter and it’s time to let her find her own feet on her own path. Alhumdililah! And so it is. It is done.
Ask me how sad I am. I grieve in the awareness that I may well be in for Rose’s withholding herself from me—a common punishment. That she will be angry. And that I may be signing on for a period of time when my daughter will not have medical insurance because I won’t be paying for it. That scares me. And it must be done.
I am blessed by the women in my life who hold space for me in my grief and my fierce parenting of this wonderful young woman. Poor Rosie. I was a pretty awful mom. And I did my best. I actually did wonderfully well the last six years or so, better and better all the time. And for the rest, well honey, ain’t that just the way it is? We do our best and then the kids grow up and find ways to review repair and forgive the damage and restore themselves to wholeness. Or something close. I know that that’s what happened to me.
Rosie, I pray every day for maturity in your earning power so that you can in fact afford support for your healing—good therapy, or a good loving tarot reader, or both, or more—what your support will look like is not up to me! Until then, I pray that you find some free support. In Alanon, or in a coven, or both, or more. This is my prayer for you, dear daughter.
You are loved, you are loved, you are loved loved loved. Someday you will know this. Blessed be.