Friday, May 25, 2012


I'm not sure where this post will go but her story needs a happy ending.

I was adopted one month before school started. She and I met the first day of school and have remained friends ever since.

She's known me one month less than my parents, same with her Mom and Dad, who are very much like my second set of parents. They even grounded me when we had a party at their house when we were 17.

I love them and I love her.

She, too, was adopted and we felt very much like sisters. We loved and hated. Laughed and cried. Did drugs and had sex. Toyed with boyfriends and girlfriends. Got married and had babies. We've been through a lot. Together.

She's nearing bottom...or at least I hope so this time. Cause next time she might not survive the fall. And I don't know if I can be there to pick up the pieces.

She's been spiraling for years. I guess at first I didn't really want to see it. We all drank socially, but I kinda knew she always took it a step too far. She was the kind of person who always did everything at 100mph.
She used to be a funny drunk, years ago. Those days are long gone.

The thing is she's not just an alcoholic. She's bi-polar. I should know, my mother is. I saw it in her when we were still in high school. God, her highs were high. People tended to flock towards her in her manic phases. She was fun. But those same people were never there during her lows. And god, her lows...she often was suicidal. She never saw any worth in her eyes. Never saw how beautiful she was.

I know the drinking was her form of self-medicating. And it seemed to help for awhile. Masking her symptoms.

She would never entertain any discussion that involved seeking help or therapy. Even though she knew I was in therapy on and off from the time I was 18 and saw all the good it did for me.

Once her husband started drinking everything just escalated. I'm not his biggest fan. He'd always been verbally abusive(imo) with her even before they married and had kids.

I was always an ear to listen and a shoulder to cry on...while I tried to encourage her to love herself. Told her she deserved better. She never seemed to think so. I could feel how much she hated herself.

Three years ago the physical abuse started...from what she's told me and from what I've seen. Her parents have intervened, the cops called, arrests made, all the while she returns to him...with the kids.

Her parents are in counseling. I suspect they are already mourning the loss of their daughter.

We all keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Tuesday night she called. Things were bad. She'd packed up the kids and walked out. Only to return later that evening.

It's Friday night, and I haven't heard a word. Calls go straight to voicemail. Texts go unanswered. I know this isn't good.

I called her Mom tonight. She's been in jail since Wednesday. No one knows all the details yet.

As much as I love her and want her to be okay, I hope this is her bottom.

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