Well,
It's been 104 days since the person I called my daughter walked out my door. I hadn't even noticed three months had passed because all I did was sit and cry for those three months. I sat in one spot, begging God to take me home. I felt, and still do, feel like a monster or some evil spirit that ran her daughter off. A few months before her sixteenth birthday, my child rejected me, and if I want to see her again before she is ready to come back, I must hire an attorney to get her back. Why is that, you say? 15 years ago, I never took her father to court because we agreed that he didn't want to pay child support and I didn't want her to have a part-time father. We had no issues for fifteen years until the night I called my daughter out for lying and told her that since she and her girlfriend had lied to me, I would be making them spend some time apart. She never came home. I told her girlfriend when she came to my house without my daughter and tried to bully me into giving her my daughter's belongings; she wasn't moving in with her. The girlfriend sat in my house for thirty minutes, saying all kinds of stuff just to antagonize me so she could call the police on me. I wouldn't do it. I cried and begged her to leave my home. When she did finally leave, I texted my daughter that the only place she was legally allowed to go was to my house or her father's house, which I never took to court. I told them I would have to hire an attorney and fight for her. That's exactly the position I was left in. I can hire an attorney to chase my fifteen year old child, who has already shown me who her boss was. I already know that she isn't going to be respectful, I already know who her boss is going to be, and she's already spent three months ignoring my calls and acting like I don't exist. I have died every single day since she left, and she still hasn't even been honest about the entire situation. I am grieving the loss of my child, who isn't dead, but my relationship with her is. I am grieving the loss of a person that I thought I knew. She didn't just move out, like most children do at some point. She waited until I tried to correct her bad behavior and ran off, then she started the mess about this excuse, and that excuse, but she's yet to tell me the truth or how to fix it to get her back. I don't remember abusing my child enough to make her hate me. I don't recall abusing her at all, so I have asked her to explain it to me because I realized that I might have been insensitive to her emotions, because I never got the proper tools to meet those needs. She isn't interested in fixing anything, or working with me, she wants her girlfriend, and I can play her games, continue to text her, beg her to talk to me, and quote push her away further. I hate it. I sit here, and my body physically hurts from her absence in my life. I went from kissing her goodnight EVERY single night for fifteen years, to not even being her mom. She cut me off the same day she left me. I'm supposed to sit here and wait for her to learn some great big life lesson before she comes back around and realizes how wrong she was and wants to fix this. I won't be there, though, I will always love her, but I can't allow myself to ever take this kind of risk again. I loved my daughter, and she made the choice to hurt me. She made the choice to run off with a stranger and lie about me abusing her. Time doesn't fix that, I will never wake up and not feel like the last three months when my best friend, my daughter, that I tried so hard to keep happy, pretended like I didn't exist. She was here one minute and then hated me the next. I've admitted my wrongs, and apologized for things I didn't do, but she thinks this is a game. She's happy and smiling and living her life, and I sit here wishing I were dead because I don't understand why God made such a big mistake.. My parents didn't love me, or the physical, sexual, and mental abuse wouldn't have happened. The children I grew in my body didn't love me because they both punished me for correcting bad behavior. I was mentally too unstable to have children, so I made them stronger than I am. I made their confidence bigger than mine, and I made sure they could sleep at night without the nightmares and skeletons that haunt me today. I made them the confident, headstrong, mentally abusive people they are. They watched my family abuse me and learned how easy it was. Now they are both gone, and I automatically get accused of being some liar in denial who doesn't remember abusing her kids. I was put through hell as a child, and I think I would remember abusing my own. I divorced both of my husbands for my kids, I cut my family off because I didn't want them to be abused, and now I sit in misery because my children lack discipline, and it's my own fault. That's where I am....
It's been 104 days since the person I called my daughter walked out my door. I hadn't even noticed three months had passed because all I did was sit and cry for those three months. I sat in one spot, begging God to take me home. I felt, and still do, feel like a monster or some evil spirit that ran her daughter off. A few months before her sixteenth birthday, my child rejected me, and if I want to see her again before she is ready to come back, I must hire an attorney to get her back. Why is that, you say? 15 years ago, I never took her father to court because we agreed that he didn't want to pay child support and I didn't want her to have a part-time father. We had no issues for fifteen years until the night I called my daughter out for lying and told her that since she and her girlfriend had lied to me, I would be making them spend some time apart. She never came home. I told her girlfriend when she came to my house without my daughter and tried to bully me into giving her my daughter's belongings; she wasn't moving in with her. The girlfriend sat in my house for thirty minutes, saying all kinds of stuff just to antagonize me so she could call the police on me. I wouldn't do it. I cried and begged her to leave my home. When she did finally leave, I texted my daughter that the only place she was legally allowed to go was to my house or her father's house, which I never took to court. I told them I would have to hire an attorney and fight for her. That's exactly the position I was left in. I can hire an attorney to chase my fifteen year old child, who has already shown me who her boss was. I already know that she isn't going to be respectful, I already know who her boss is going to be, and she's already spent three months ignoring my calls and acting like I don't exist. I have died every single day since she left, and she still hasn't even been honest about the entire situation. I am grieving the loss of my child, who isn't dead, but my relationship with her is. I am grieving the loss of a person that I thought I knew. She didn't just move out, like most children do at some point. She waited until I tried to correct her bad behavior and ran off, then she started the mess about this excuse, and that excuse, but she's yet to tell me the truth or how to fix it to get her back. I don't remember abusing my child enough to make her hate me. I don't recall abusing her at all, so I have asked her to explain it to me because I realized that I might have been insensitive to her emotions, because I never got the proper tools to meet those needs. She isn't interested in fixing anything, or working with me, she wants her girlfriend, and I can play her games, continue to text her, beg her to talk to me, and quote push her away further. I hate it. I sit here, and my body physically hurts from her absence in my life. I went from kissing her goodnight EVERY single night for fifteen years, to not even being her mom. She cut me off the same day she left me. I'm supposed to sit here and wait for her to learn some great big life lesson before she comes back around and realizes how wrong she was and wants to fix this. I won't be there, though, I will always love her, but I can't allow myself to ever take this kind of risk again. I loved my daughter, and she made the choice to hurt me. She made the choice to run off with a stranger and lie about me abusing her. Time doesn't fix that, I will never wake up and not feel like the last three months when my best friend, my daughter, that I tried so hard to keep happy, pretended like I didn't exist. She was here one minute and then hated me the next. I've admitted my wrongs, and apologized for things I didn't do, but she thinks this is a game. She's happy and smiling and living her life, and I sit here wishing I were dead because I don't understand why God made such a big mistake.. My parents didn't love me, or the physical, sexual, and mental abuse wouldn't have happened. The children I grew in my body didn't love me because they both punished me for correcting bad behavior. I was mentally too unstable to have children, so I made them stronger than I am. I made their confidence bigger than mine, and I made sure they could sleep at night without the nightmares and skeletons that haunt me today. I made them the confident, headstrong, mentally abusive people they are. They watched my family abuse me and learned how easy it was. Now they are both gone, and I automatically get accused of being some liar in denial who doesn't remember abusing her kids. I was put through hell as a child, and I think I would remember abusing my own. I divorced both of my husbands for my kids, I cut my family off because I didn't want them to be abused, and now I sit in misery because my children lack discipline, and it's my own fault. That's where I am....
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