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As you have begun to know me, you must realize that I write very little about my daughter. There is a reason for that. She has been a source of pain for many years. She was a happy baby and a joy--bright, inquisitive, loving. Then her father came back from the service. I have talked about Woody and a few of the difficulties that my daughter and I had when he was alive. But after his death, more problems began. I didn't go back to teaching; I couldn't cope with very much at that time. I became a maintenance woman for Trunkline Gas. I mowed, painted, raked gravel and learned to service the huge engines that pumped the gas to various villages and towns. I withdrew during that time. I wasn't living, but merely existing.
My daughter couldn't cope with her father's death. She idealized a relationship with him that would forever be lost, a relationship of a loving father doting on his beloved daughter. Unfortunately, that was never to be whether Woody had lived or not. She sought acceptance in all of the wrong places, and I have no excuse for not realizing what was happening except my naivety and withdrawal. She became pregnant and had the child, my grandson. He brought me back to life.
My daughter eventually married, a man who was diagnosed with mental illness and with a narcissistic personality. He abused my grandson terribly, but they were in Missouri, and it was only though telephone conversations that I realized something was terribly wrong. I went to visit and found a very thin and frightened child. I took my grandson home with me and took him to a councilor who reported child abuse. I had received a call from social services before I even returned home. After listening to the message, I called and a case worker came immediately to interview my grandson. To make a long story short, the court awarded me custody of the child, and he lived with me for over ten years. However, many of the things that were done to him, he repressed. He couldn't blame his mother for allowing the abuse; he blamed me. He returned after all those years to again live with his mother.
Their lives have been a constant struggle, moving from town to town and job to job. There is no stability or security in their lives. My daughter is a liar and a manipulator. I have spent thousands to bail her out of one mess after another as had my mom and dad. It is a bottomless pit. After years, I have stepped back and am practicing some tough love. I refuse to bail her out of her messes any more. My last hoorah is the car that we have bought my grandson. We are scheduled to take it to him very soon, possibly this weekend since the title has finally arrived. We are waiting now for the insurance, for we must have that before the car can be inspected in Texas. My daughter is suppose to handled this. I wonder!
Hubby has told my daughter that the car is my grandson's. They have a habit of taking everything from him. He works at a radio station in Greenville, Texas and makes very good money; however, daughter and husband take his money from him to pay for expenses of his living there. So sad. Hubby and I thought that maybe a car would allow him some freedom from them. Perhaps, they will let him keep some of his money for expenses. Why does my grandson enable them, you ask? He wants their love so very much that he will endure many things in order to get it. He feels bound by obligation to care for them. They both have many medical problems, and grandson feels that he must be strong for them and care for them.
I am very anxious about making the trip to Texas. Hubby and I are always distressed over the plight of grandson. But we can do nothing to alleviate his distress, for he enables them. Sometimes, he calls when they are out and talks about coming back, but he will never be able to get out of their clutches. Dysfunctional--the entire family is dysfunctional. We are staying in a motel while we are there, for hubby would like nothing better than to squash the stepfather and shake daughter until her teeth rattle! The stress of seeing them and of acting as a buffer for hubby is causing my stomach to churn. I know that the closer we get to Texas the more agitated we will become. We always feel so helpless.
Surely there is no greater pain than that which is inflicted by a loved one.
I just want to give you a hug & tell you God bless & grant you wisdom!
I just don't like to think of you hurting like this Angie and I *wish* in usual janetk style that I could help *somehow*.
Like Kristilyn, I wish I knew what to say, may God watch over you and your loved ones.