Well, here we are today back to square one. After the meltdown and, really as I was writing my post yesterday, my brain wondered how she would handle this emotional meltdown. She went off to University in the morning seeming somewhat ok and did attend some of her classes. She called me once when she was on break and then again when she was with friends.
I don’t know if it’s the thesis work she has been doing, the old diary I found or something else entirely that has led to her meltdown. All I know is has led to another relapse.
Yesterday, was her long day at school. Normally, she comes home at 6:30pm the latest. When she didn’t show up I was concerned. Then at 8pm I called and she claimed to be at a classmates house and would be home directly after. She walked in around 9pm and was fully loaded. Weaving on her feet, slurring and easily slipped into her angry, spite-filled mode. We only see this girl when she’s using. She was determined to have a stranger stay in our house. I wanted to say no immediately after seeing her condition, but I didn’t get into it with her then and decided to wait for her father to come home.
The girl seemed innocent and pretty much at a loss at what to do. Was it a facade? Who knows. She didn’t appear to have taken anything at all. Just my daughter was a mess. The girl kept trying to comfort BB which was met with annoyance from my daughter. I heard telling her more than once stop that, don’t do that.
When her father returned we calmly requested the girl to leave and even sent her home with our car. BB then got busy trying to light up a sheesha/hookah pipe. She ended up spilling the flavor all over her room and I found the pipe at 3am still never lit. My house, however smelled like a lounge from the spillage. What was I doing up at 3am? God woke me up and wouldn’t allow me to go back to sleep until I checked my intoxicated daughter was safely in her bed sleeping it off.
So, I got up to check on her and found she was in her attached bathroom. I could hear the water running. I knocked loudly several times and called her name with no response. Now I was freaking out. She doesn’t have a tub, only a shower, but the lack of response made my mind go crazy with fear. So, I grabbed the keys from my bedroom to unlock the door. There she was in all in all her glory passed out (thankfully alive) on the floor with shampoo still in her hair. I roused her, rinsed her hair (listening to a relentless chant of “I am a grownup, I can do this myself”, got her dressed and in her bed. Finally, she passed into slumber. I truly hate nights like this! I truly hate nights like this! I hope my heart doesn’t stop from the shock of seeing my daughter passed out on her floor again and again. Please keep her in your prayers.