No Hope, No Love, No Glory, No Happy Ending

As my adopted children have grown into adulthood and ever more dangerous, I find myself moving farther away in both heart and mind. To quote my friend Jenny, my daughter's have become the walking dead. They are alive but lost to me, though I suppose they were never really "mine" in the first place. Their mental illness and trauma history have reigned supreme as their true mother. That hurts to even type. 

Sometimes I feel like I have lost my daughter's, but the reality is whether close and loving or far away and trying to kill me, I will always be their mother. For me that is both a blessing and never-ending curse. 

Right now my heart is so buried under hurt and fear that most days I wish I had never met these kids. They have, in many ways, ruined what I pictured for my life. And while most days I can convince myself that at least I helped them get to adulthood, or at least I was able to help other mothers, at the end of the day I'm just angry that decisions I made in love have turned into such ugliness for myself and my other children. 

I rest only in knowing that them turning 18 at least removes the constant threat of being charged with neglect on one of the many times the mental health system fails and tries to send a danger person into my home. However, they have still managed to make allegations and bring authorities into my home. The difference is that I can show they have not been here and so me actually being guilty is an impossibility. I seriously got a call last Saturday one of them had ran away and told the officer first that the grouphome assaulted her and then that I had. I said sir, I'm a couple hours away, I have refused to be alone with her since September. Like really? Despite my current anger and bitterness, I know that beneath it lies waves of grieving I can't even begin to to address because I will surely drown in the awfulness of it.