Daily, several times a day. When I’m alone with my thoughts, I revisit the situation with my daughter. I replay memories searching for moments where I got it wrong as her mom.

Where I must have failed her.

I continually ask myself, what else…

What else could I have done, what else can I do.

It’s obsessive some might say.

Those who think that may blame me, codependency, or lack of faith.

I really can’t say either way, it’s difficult to see through the fog when you’re in it.

I ask myself, what more can I do as her mom right now? How can I help care for her or show her how much she is loved. And more importantly, what can I do that wouldn’t be considered enabling.

She doesn’t steal from me. Yet.

She doesn’t ask me for help.

When someone tells me to pray, be grateful, or think about the positive. I appreciate these words because they’re honest. Almost as much as I resent them. They also end the conversation before it begins.

My daughter tells me to go to a support group for families coping with addiction, she says I could help others with my words and they could help me – because only they can truly understand. She may be right. Of course she is.

I wish I could better communicate some of the feelings and thoughts I carry close to my heart.

She’s barely been getting by. Not eating much. No food, no money.

No words and no one (but faith) can help me carry this heavy load.

I’m not supposed to rescue her.

Yet, last night when weighing out the things that are within my control, letting her go without food for another moment was not an option.

“Have you eaten today?”

No response.

Last night I was heading home. My dad (RIP) must have taken the wheel. He was definitely ‘with me’ as I passed my exit and kept driving until before I knew it I was parked in front of the grocery store down the street from the motel she was staying in. He never let me go hungry.

I let her know I was there.

When I asked her what she needed from the store, her list was short. Not wanting to impose.

Things like white bread, peanut butter, grapes..

When I dropped off the few bags of groceries, I was able to hold her close not wanting to let her go. She looked pale, and thin. She’s been sick.

She was grateful, and that’s when she gave me the gift.

A Precious Moments snow globe.

She said, it was the only thing sitting in the motel room when they checked in, and she knew it was intended for me.

Life is funny sometimes. Just when you think you got it all wrong, you realize how much you got perfectly right.

With love,