Good riddence, daughter. I love you, but you're ruining my life.

I wasn’t too thrilled when my daughter told me she was moving out again, but she made all the arrangements and really seemed to be ready to go. She has a hard time living with me and maintaining all her secrets, I guess. She’s been out of the house for a couple of weeks, but most of her clothes and toiletries are still in my house.

Not a great segue, but yesterday at work I happened to be scrolling through the notes app on my phone and saw that I had her school login information. I forgot it was in there; otherwise, I would’ve applied it way before. I had just the day before asked her how her finals went and she said she aced them. I was proud of her for doing well.

Back to the school login—I logged in to check on her grades and to see if there were any outstanding charges. And to what my two eyes did appear? She withdrew from one class and had an F in the other. Two easy classes and she couldn’t handle it.

I was sick to my stomach immediately, because it’s not just dropping classes, it’s a whole list of other things that go with it.

It means she’s back to drugs, there must be many other lies, and now that she’s 18—she’s probably been in trouble with the law. I immediately thought the very worst, as that’s my nature. But after all these years with this child, how else can I think? I knew at that moment that she was truly lying about still working at the great job, about how she makes her money, and who her friends are. Put that together with finding a check-out sheet from jail, and we’ve got a no-duh.

Backing up again, on her birthday last week, I met her for dinner at her favorite place. She looked beautiful—very sexily dressed—but truly beautiful. I couldn’t get over it. We had a benign conversation in which she told me her car was in the shop for the alternator and everything else was great. Work was great, school was great, her boyfriend who’s now her friend is great. Just great.

It was super great when she asked me to drop her off at the tattoo place to get her free birthday piercing. She was doing a lip, I believe, to go along with the nipples, nose, tongue, thing above her lip, belly button, and, well, that’s all I know about. The nice “gentlemen” there were polite to me as they sat there in their full sleeves and face “art,” telling me about the 84-year-old woman who got her first tattoo there just last week. Oh, and did I know how many doctors and lawyers are their customers? Great, Mr. White-Supremacist with the semi-automatic pistol on the counter, just great. She said, “Don’t worry, Mom. I come here all the time.” She’s 19. She doesn’t live with me. She makes her own decisions. Doesn’t stop me from being sick to my stomach.

Bring it forward. Troubled daughter’s older sister called today to celebrate the end of her last final for the semester. She’s so excited, loves school, loves her major, and is really learning. I help her with her homework and discuss ideas with her from time to time—you know, a normal college experience. I’m so proud of her I could just scream! I hate to sound like I favor her, but I sure enjoy hearing about her life waaaaay more.

The conversation went in the direction of her sister. Ugh, I hate when that happens, but at the same time, she likes to be in the loop. Turns out she’s way more in the loop than I am. Troubled sister tells doing-the-right-thing sister what’s going on with her on occasion. There has  been so much going on lately that I’ve been completely shut out from.

Making-a-mess-of-her-life daughter:

1.       Has a job, yes, in a porn “studio” as an assistant. I guess she changes the sheets and goes for coffee?

2.       Was pulled over for something and the police searched her car and found weed. They arrested her and impounded her car. She knew not to call me and I guess no one else could bail her out, so she spent the night in jail. Her car isn’t exactly in the shop.

3.       Takes taxis to work.

4.       Is being arraigned in February.

5.       Has not told me a thing and I’m not supposed to know.

6.     Has a huge lingerie wardrobe, and other stuff.

I’m working from home today, and have packed all her stuff and put it in the garage. I’m not crying, though I’m sick inside. I’m kind of suspended—like I’m hovering over my keyword and some other lady is living this life. I feel paralyzed and don’t know if I should be helping her or just let her do her own life.

Since no one reads this, I will admit out loud that I just want  this to go away, to erase her life from mine. I love my daughter and long for my little sweetie pie, but she’s clearly not there anymore. I’m so sad, yet so jaded, that I don’t know what to do or how to feel or who to turn to or what to think anymore. I’m 49 years old—how much more of my life can be stolen from me? I’ve eliminated friends because I don’t want anyone to find out and I gave up counseling for myself because of the cost. Not even sure what my role is anymore and I feel like I've wasted so much of my life on this futile effort. I have no life.