My little runaway

Not sure what happened, but sitting here in the ultimate Pink Slip of rejection: My daughter ran away from home.

I know you haven't met her.

She is my First Baby. Always a latent bloomer, always devoted, always vulnerable. An ADHD that was never diagnosed, but always a frustrating parental experience, a malleable child who in a religious environment (her father a minister) was a lightning rod for the sickest members of
our society. Assaulted at 13 by a 42 year old who claimed he was under the influence of cold medicines (yeah, and I'm a twinkie!). Again groomed at 16 in school, no less, however, those expert authorities saw it only as teenage normalcy.

Of course, I was that hippie quack parent with authority issues finding myself suddenly one of those rejectable authority figures in the life of a vulnerable (how little did I know, so vulnerable) child, that pseudo dabbler in effete intellectualism morphing Thomas Szas and every other annihilist.

And I was her mother.

I didn't know what ADHD was, of course neither did she. All I knew for most of her life was that I was first defending her from being labeled (a bad thing for us evolutionaries). And then, having thrown out all that baggage (which apparently might have included a safety net), spent the other part of our lives trying to shield then hide our by
then defensive and shame driven living so no one would notice our deficiencies, and by then yes, there were deficiencies. She just didn't get a lot of stuff. Tracking was difficult. Focusing nearly impossible. Schools didn't help. Church didn't help since hubby would get relocated on a whim by whomever the godlike authority was mishandling our life. Changing schools, changing locations, always
breaking the frame for her and us. Always amping up the stress factors. Finally, the church kicked him to the curb and here we are -- up the creek without a paddle. And without medication, which for an ADHD adult means global relationship failures and increased stress. Not good.

Of course, my Extreme Ambivalence never helped. Me who rejected labels as delimiting, was livid with any proposal for medication. Ritalin, had she ever been diagnosed, would've been summarily rejected on the altar of purity for my self idolatry as Mother. Better living through chemistry was a banner at the old Disneyland and the mantra of my mood altered peers, but I was of the pre-vegan hybrid -- no drugs. And this condemned my daughter to a disabling life without any assists, courtesy of her mother's interventions. What a screw up! And did the church help? Oh, yeah, sure: we've all read the blooper in the newsletter and on the marquees: don't let stress kill you, let the church help! And help happened, oh yea. When Jesus came in to my life is not the problem, its when His peeps are your life handlers. (Note to world: don't go into the ministry. Posner decision Thomas vs Catholic Diocese of Peoria, they can do whatever they want anytime ... even if you are a U.S. Citizen, the church is constitutionally protected to do anything they please. The married clergy and their families are at risk. The Catholics have it right -- don't bring families into that. Single clerics only. Yeah, I'm bitter, and if hubby ever gets another gig, I'm outta here. Not that I want him to make the family a god before God, but would Jesus do this to us? Guess what, there is actually a letter circulating on the internet that yes, "This Came From Me" -- helps us get closer to God. Right, I'll read that again later.)

My latent loved one, with all the wreckage of this life, adapted to live a life heavily defended from us. Secretive, not wanting to expose herself to review, criticism (and inevitably that is the chronic side of this condition -- constantly criticized by non ADHD parents and significant others, the damage of this verbal malpractice can only be
called criminally insane itself), she sought refuge in superficial living and superficial people -- which reeks, I see now, of total judgment.

Truth be told, we are all superficial, even those of us cloaked in Deepness. We are so Deep, and yet we are as neurotic as everyone else. We struggle with the same needs everyone else does. We are as self centered as all those we label superficial.

The pathetic truth is, for all my claimed deepness, I wasn't enough. I, entrusted with her life, screwed up. They, those flatliner, shallow, vapid and superficial people who don't know her, who didn't survive with her, who didn't contribute to who she is today (and probably because they didn't), offered her a place to be.

You see, of late, the stress at home has shot up through the stratosphere. Life needs to be simple for an ADHD, and there was no safety, no shelter, no buffer. In fact, there was no protection. We were all under assault, and saving ourselves. Vulnerable daughter took all the hits she could, couldn't understand a thing that was going on, and latent responder that she is, looped a litany of Everything that
Had Ever Happened to her, and All The Sins I'd said and done to her, and finally became angry.

And angry, and angry, and angry.

She'd wake up and come in to provoke a fight. I'd disassociate (my rejection mode). She'd translate that into whatever script she had (usually close to the truth), but it was a rejection. She'd go to her Phone Life and talk to Superficial Ones, and get sympathy, compassion, ideas. She'd come back with another looped tape, I'd disassociate. We were caught in the ultimate loop tape. The difference this time is that I couldn't take any more stress myself. Ruled by fear, there just wasn't anything else to do but say nothing. Disassociate.

So then she became the critic. She became me. I heard from her labels, diagnoses, judgments, conclusions and indictments about my failures and how I had ruined civilisation.

I knew it was all true. Its been horrible the last few months. If we were within months of any war, I knew it was my fault. But this was cutting blow. I'd ruined her, and she was awake and telling me she knew.

It was like your own personal murder victim catching you in the act and looking full on into your eyes and telling you the truth.

Lord have mercy on us. No excuses. Life sucks. And I'm no good at it.

I should've found an ADHD parent group long ago but I lived near a river called Denial.

So she got up this morning and packed her bag. Left her dog (of course). And apparently tonight was at the Other's House.

Is she safe? I who knows her judgment and life skills (she once asked for her passport at 13 when my stealth parent program showed some Mexican national wanted her to visit but bring her passport, he'd pay the airfare ... hmmm -- not good. I told her we lost it and would have to get it updated when we wanted to go somewhere.)

She called to get her sister's cell phone number but was very icy cold (she still wants me to feel the burn). One of her anonymous Shallow Boyfriends called and I gave her the number of the Shallow Home she was staying at.

She may be happy there. In her already strange life, its one of the strangest of choices: her hostess is the mother of her ex boyfriend. But they may have a lot in common: whatever it is in their lives that are suffering, they enjoyed watching uninterrupted television all day
permanently set to the Lifetime psychodramas.

I don't wonder why now.

So at 4:45 am I'm sitting here in the ultimate rejection slip -- pink as anything any editor could ever send, but this time from my first born beloved. I'm not watching Lifetime, I feel I'm living it.

All I can do now is pray for her, for her hostess, and pray for my own miserable soul.