My daughter, Kylie, called three days ago. She was driving in from Asheville, where she had been living in her car. I have no idea how she got the gas money to get here, but she wanted us to buy her a couple of cartons of cigarettes and a tank of gas. She said she and her boyfriend were on their way to a new detox facility that’s within a 30 minute drive of us and that it will be completely covered under insurance. That’s good because we’re still paying off her bill from the detox stint in November. I guess that means she’s been using(heroin) enough to where going straight to a sober living facility wouldn’t likely be successful. I’m trying to be supportive emotionally without getting my hopes up too much.
I blew up at her last week. My husband’s, Will’s, mother died. He had been taking turns with his brother and sister sitting with their mother around the clock during her last days at the hospice, which is in our hometown in another state. I brought our granddaughter, Kylie’s daughter, up with me and got to see his mother the day before she died. We were all under a lot of stress. Faith and I were staying with my father, and Will was staying with his sister when he wasn’t at the hospice. He had assumed that I would stay with him at his sister’s house, but we’re in the process of getting a divorce. I just didn’t want to share a bed with him. Also, Faith is a typical two year old. Not only is his sister’s house not really safe with its steep stairs and inside balcony walkway, but also I just didn’t think it would be helpful to him or his sister to have her running around, loud, and into everything. He didn’t want his mother or his extended family to know about our divorce, and it was difficult to appear to be a couple.
Kylie came to be with us. We had to pay for a hotel for her and her boyfriend since none of our family will let her stay with them because she’s stolen so much from my husband and me. After she arrived there, I learned from my son that Kylie and her boyfriend had gone to our home in Atlanta two days before and let themselves into our house knowing that we would be gone. My son said he knew she had gone into our bedroom and had told her that he would tell me. I felt completely betrayed again. She knows she’s not allowed in our home when I’m not there, much less our bedroom. If I know she’s going to be there, I put a padlock on my bedroom door, but I hadn’t even done this before I left. I was upset because I had no idea whether she had stolen anything from me. Many times, I don’t figure out what she’s stolen from me until months later, even though I look. I am so tired of being on guard. When I found out, I yelled at her in front of the relatives that were there. Luckily, they already knew the score. She said she and her boyfriend just hadn’t had anywhere else to go. I told them both that if I discovered anything missing, I was going to call the police and press charges against both of them. It was a nasty scene, and I felt like a nasty person, but I was sick the rest of the time I was there wondering what might be missing. I still don’t know, even though I’ve looked through the things she was likely to steal. Maybe that was the impetus she needed to get into detox again. Or maybe it’s as simple as the fact that she’ll have a bed and food for the next 28 days.