No Title

My imagination went south for the winter, so I can't think of a title. Who told me I had to have one anyway???

I got a call at work yesterday afternoon. It was the youngest daughter asking when I would be home. I told her and she said she was coming by to get her belongings. Mixed feelings there. UGH! I have to face her with my emotions still lingering on my sleeve. YAY! It will empty out the room. (I never got around to putting the stuff in the garage) Then again there was the mixture of I'm pissed and I'm hurt. Last but but least, the anxiety of how will she act? Oh, is my middle daughter going to be home or come home and what will happen if...I think I need to learn how to bottle the emotions and put a cork in it. Then let them out at a later time when, say the wind is blowing and they can dissipate out into the atmosphere. My stomach was churning.

She came and brought her one, long time friend who has gone through some real crap with and because of my daughter. She's a few years younger, and many times I was tempted to call and warn her parents about eminent things that I didn't feel were right. But her parents are a tad blind to what their daughters were doing and rarely want to hear that fact. For the most part I kept my mouth shut to them, but spoke up to the friend myself. Of course, that always fell on deaf ears.

She also brought a roll of garbage bags to pack up her stuff. When she came in I told her right away that I had packed up her belongings and labeled the boxes so she would know what was in them. She kind of acted like that was an inconvenience. I suspect it took away the dramatic license of "packing" her things. Oh well, gotta grow up sometime and leave the high school drama behind. She took everything but the bed, a TV stand that is actually mine and a few wood cubes that make for good storage. It would have been nice of her to take the bed, but then again I can use it. It will take up space I really wanted for myself. (I'm just a whirlwind of contradictions here, I think)

At one point her g/f told me that she was really upset, crying sort of. She said I should go and talk to her. Figuring that her g/f had some insight to Binks brain functions, I attempted to talk to her. It started going downhill immediately. So I stopped. This time the reason for her being so angry with me is that I threw her out, taking her house key from her. Golly gee, it was pretty violent the night we had our blowup. Since, in the past when her sister had fits of stupidity and I would ask her to remove herself, I never took the "key" away and this is what makes her mad. As she sees it, I am always choosing sides. The truth is there was never an opportunity to take the key and Becca never would actually leave. At one point when I told her it was time to go she called the police and they told me I had to go through the courts to evict her. Bottom line here is that no matter what, I will always be the one at fault. She is so much like her dad it is scary. He never accepted responsibility for his actions, and always blamed me (or anyone of his many girlfriends since) for his problems.

I am okay with things this morning. I am not feeling the depression kicking in. Although it is there. From my sleeping patterns this past week, I know it is time to talk to the doctor about it. I know now that she is staying at this friends house. Which is just fine, the friends parents have money, PLENTY of it and I know she is comfortable. And relatively safe. I say relatively, because the other parents can't ever save her from herself. She has two jobs again. A pizza place and at a ranch that runs a therapy horse program. I can now officially get back to my regularly scheduled program.

Since I am off today I have a long list of to dos. We'll see just how far down that list I get. The first is to throw my laundry in and have that working while I am doing other stuff. I believe I will get some boxes and start getting similar things together in my bedroom. What is going to go in the crafty room I will put there in the boxes, so when I start on the room I can just move the boxes around. That way I will be able to move around my bedroom. I think I can actually get the rug up in the crafty room and see what needs to be done to repair the warped flooring.
We had a little change in who was going to take that room. Oldest dtr's boyfriend measured both rooms and decided that they would only gain 4" by taking that back bedroom. No use in moving two bedrooms around at that rate. So the corner room is again mine...all mine! My mind is swirling with what to do first.

Maybe I will book a date on the Jerry Springer show. Sometimes I feel like this house is a candidate for White Trailer Trash Theater!