Remembering This Life, Part 1

I finally revealed to my husband some of the details I've never discussed with him regarding the experiences I've had with my troubled daughter. He thought she was just difficult all these years, but his toes curled when I gave him word vomit yesterday.

My memories just started flooding, in no particular order. In fact, there are so many events, I can't even weave them into a chronology or connect the dots. Here are some of them:

1. The time I was called in the middle of the night to pick her up from the park, where she was by herself, stoned. When I asked why they didn’t take her to jail for curfew violation, they just said, “Ma’am, just take her home.” She was 17.
2. The time I was cleaning her room and found sex toys, lingerie, fishnet stockings, and stilettos. I think she was 18.
3. The time I found glow sticks and other unfamiliar things in her closet, and figured out she was attending raves. She confirmed this.
4. The time I first saw her giant tattoo and tongue ring. She was 17, but I learned she’d had them since she was 16.
5. The time she begged to move out at 16, and was unbearable to live with. In a moment of weakness, I drove her over to the place she picked. It was basically a section-8 drug apartment, with a bunch of people living there, including a toddler. I almost vomited but did it anyway. She was home within a few weeks. I’ve never gotten over this guilt.