Namaste, New Year

If you've been reading my blog, you will know that . . . .

[Ed. Note:  God, I hate blogs that start out that way.  So much wrong with that.  It's like the vaguely passive-aggressive Facebook status intended to sound the alarm to friends and neighbors that SOMETHING IS WRONG!  But what it is, only certain traders very close to the inside will recognize or understand.  The rest of you can just wait at the door for details.  Even better, form a group to speculate.  Don't forget to start rumors.

Also, "If you've been reading my blog, you will know that . . . ." implies that many people don't read the blog but show up from time to time and want to know what the fuck is going on.  And while that's annoying, that's not what it means, either.

Seriously, all I mean is that I have been writing about some difficult issues in my life (for a change - lol).  And I have another installment of the story to share.  If you want to flip back a few months to catch up, we'll wait.  But if not, it's all good.]

If you've been reading my blog, you will know that I am working on solving two serious and interconnected problems  in my family at the moment.  Mr. K.'s drinking, a chronic problem, has escalated again, testing my courage and strength.  Is this the time I stand up and demand action?  Insist on change?  Give no quarter?  Stay tuned.

The other problem is that my daughter Troubled's journey of self-discovery has stalled in a very sketch part of town.  Her boyfriend, "The Juvie," is a three-time offender who has aged out of the foster care system and into my home.  While Troubled works and goes to school, The Juvie does nothing except deal pot out of a mini-fridge he has installed in Troubled's room.  The situation that began over five months ago with "Please, Mom, can he stay here for a few days while he finds a place to live?" has devolved, as all situations will if left unaddressed, to "I want him out by New Year's or I am calling the cops."

As a reader commented recently on Facebook:  "This used to be a fun page until you went all Maury Povich."

Indeed.

Since I last wrote, I laid down the law on a few matters.  I would leave and take our son, The Gamer, with me if any of the following conditions weren't met.

1.  Mr. K. was to remain sober.
2.  Troubled was not to get high or to come home high. 
3.  The Juvie was not to remain in our home overnight.  

Mr. K. had already learned that I was serious about this.   The Gamer and I had overnight bags stored in my car.  I had only broken them out once, but it had gotten his attention.  

Yesterday, I got up and saw that Condition No. 3 had not been met, so I left immediately to stay at Galpal's, an unbelievably supportive friend, one of the scant handful I have IRL.  I let Mr. K.  know that I would come home when The Juvie was gone.  For good.

Mr. K. texted me yesterday afternoon to say that Troubled and The Juvie were packing up.  My other daughter,  PreMed, gave me the status when she got home.  Troubled left with The Juvie, but a lot of her clothes are still here.  I take that as a good sign.  I hope she'll be back often.  We have tuition to pay, books and software and school supplies to buy.  If she thinks we are giving up on her, she is sadly mistaken.  

I'm sitting here with the lock guy rekeying the locks.  Troubled can have a new key. We will take it back, though, if we discover that The Juvie or any of his loser friends, family, or *customers* (fml) have been in the house when we weren't there. 

So yeah.  We did it.  Troubled will say that we kicked her out, but we all know better.  We kicked him out and she chose to join him.  All in all, a devastatingly difficult week. But major progress.  

That's what happened.  Those are the objective details.   But here's what's really happening.  My heart is heavy.  My stomach is in knots.  A rocky relationship with Troubled is broken, possibly beyond repair.  But I have my house back and a little of my self-respect back and now I can turn my attention to other problems that have to be addressed.  For example, my marriage.   I'm lightening up on Mr. K. for now. This was huge, and he is taking it hard. I'm not going to press on the drinking for a little while, at least. He didn't drink yesterday that I know of. But it is not my job to know.  One thing at a time.  Now where did I put that link to the Al-Anon schedule?

Listen up.  You'll want to get a hanky for this next part, if you don't have one already.  (If you're anything like me, you probably always have one stuffed up your sleeve like that old lady piano teacher you used to admire, fear and loathe all in the same feeling.)  Anyway.  Thing is.  Point being.  Some severely difficult and ridiculously challenging things happened around here this year.  And I really couldn't have done it without you.  People say that all the time.  But I really do believe it's true.  Without this space to work through everything and check it out with you and get your validation and support, I really don't think I would have had the courage to make any of these changes.      

So with that, I'll close, as I often do, with "Namaste."  Namaste, Nutjobs.  Namaste, Troubled.  Namaste, Mr. K, and Gamer, and PreMed.  

Namaste, New Year.  Take that.  Hiiiii-yah!  <drops mic>