hey Cap ... just rambling ...

I've been so bent lately with my grown daughter's drama, John's death, the beginning of the end of a relationship for me with a man I thought I adored; come to find out, it was all make-believe. Anyway, with the death of John (my ex) in August, my daughter and son-in-law sought solace doing drugs; heroin this time, shooting up; him and her both; right after the baby was born, 4th of July 2006. That kid never knew what it was like to be held while fed; his parents propped a bottle up in his mouth. I had gone over there several times, and they're "nodding" and he's nasty, little Bella was nasty, the house was in shambles; my heart was broken. I'd just take Bella with me. I couldn't handle to see them being so drugged out. His parents dried them out at their house, but they were in for a rude awakening; as they (their son and my daughter) had cleaned them out of thousands and thousands of dollars, wasted on their habit ... when they got "clean" supposedly that's when the real trouble started and their drug dealers came wanting their money; so they said. I remember a day here I got a phone call from Rae and she said Jeremy was being held at gunpoint in the bathroom and her and Bella, and the baby were hostages and if the didn't come up with $500.00 they were going to die. They already bled money from me, and his parents up to this point for whatever necessitated it. She said "they" were watching; no police; put the money in the mailbox; don't even try or somebody was getting hurt. At this point, I was thinking, well just go ahead and get it over with, I can't stand the pain of it all, but then frantic sets in, I call up his parents and they cough up the money; put it in the mailbox, but come to find it, it was all a big fat lie, a farce, made up by the two of them. all made up. all lies. The times she has come in here messed up, verbally abusing me, stealing my bankcard at one point, throwing a coffee cup at me, breaking it on my desk, seeing little Bella so terribly confused and hurt, and my daughter coming in here and demanding money ... telling me she wasn't leaving until she got money; that desperation, deceit, lies. I got scared for my safety. It was emotionally brutal. I don't trust either of them to tell me anything. Even though now I don't think they're doing drugs, it doesn't help change how I feel about what they've done. They don't even remember the shit they pulled, the lies they told, the hurt they did. I want to believe that they're clean and they're sorry, but deep down I just quit caring. I believe absolutely nothing they say. I hate feeling that way. I don't know if I'll ever get over it. I mourn still and cry nearly everyday. It's a mixture of things. Maybe I can write it out, I don't know. Thanks for listening.