At best, she had a marginal relationship with her father at the time. Unbeknownst to me, she had been plotting this for some time, even picking fights with me so I would be desperate to send her there. Nevertheless, I allowed it and off she went in March of 2007, in the last quarter of seventh grade. It was one of the most heartbreaking days of my entire life, worse than any funeral I’ve been to. Because it was so emotionally and scholastically disruptive, the deal was that she had to stay until the end of middle school and then could decide whether she would attend high school in our state or his. I made up contracts and she and both parents signed it.
It turned out to be both the worst and most educational experience of her life. She learned that she loved her father, but had very little respect for him. He couldn’t cut it as a parent and vacillated between neglecting her and hitting her out of anger. I could understand the getting angry at her part – even the wanting to hit her part – but I certainly would never lay a hand on her. In short, by the tenth month away from home, she was done. She called me the night before Valentine’s Day in 2008, crying and begging to come home. Right away. That second. I was taken aback, as she barely ever called, texted, or emailed me that whole time. I was a veritable stalker, but she kept her distance. I even visited her at the six-month mark, and she hardly talked to me.
I had to make sure she was sure about it, and that she wasn’t being emotional or affected by PMS. She just told me she couldn’t take the bad treatment anymore and she needed me, needed her mommy, and even missed me. She also told me that the reason she didn’t reveal this before was that she felt embarrassed and like a failure, that what she wanted to accomplish was never going to happen.
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