Yesterday was the most recent in a long list of days where the sun set, my daughter was no longer in the house, and I felt like I'd been hit by a mac truck.I'm 41, have a 17 yr old son, fibromyalgia and a partner who puts up with way more than expected.My 19 year old daughter has a long history of running away, drug use, arrests, violence and mental illness. She tried to kill herself when she wasn't even 4- and yes, she knew what she was trying to do and what death was. It scared the hell out of me and surprised her therapists. She had a few problems between then and when the serious problems started up again, when she was 12 and diagnosed with Polycystic Kidney disease. She didn't handle it well and, combined with the beginnings of bipolar and brain damage (minor damage to the parts of her brain that control impulse, willpower and empathy) things got chaotic fast. She spent a lot of time in care: mental hospitals, live-in facilities and out patient therapy. Multiple suicide attempts followed by running away and living on the streets. She's wrapped a belt around my neck and held me hostage. She's punched me in the throat and shoved me in front of on-coming traffic. She threatened to throw her younger brother over a balcony. She's cut herself and told the police I did it. She's pulled a knife on me and threatened to kill me.The last time she lived at home was when she was 16. She had just been released from a juvenile care facility where she'd been getting straight A's and doing really well. I tried to tell them that she'd vanish within a week of coming home, but no one listened. She did.It's been 3 years since then and she's 'dropped in' a few times, been to jail, failed to register for probation, been arrested multiple times since then and blames me for pretty much everything bad in her life, including her drug addictions.She was here on Sunday. She was sick. It's cold. It's rainy. I let her stay. The last time she stayed overnight, she put a hole in a wall, broke a door and spent hours ranting at me, pushing me and telling me what a horrible bitch I am.I still let her stay. Yesterday, two days into her visit, she got really nasty with my son (called him a little pussy fag who doesn't know shit and can't talk to her about respect because he's 2 years younger than her). My friend asked me if she's allowed to talk to my daughter that way because she's older than my daughter is, and she went on a rampage.Over the next hour or so, she punched at my friend (grazed her and mostly got her glasses, luckily- I made sure said friend was okay before rushing her out of the house), punched my son repeatedly, pushed me, punched me repeatedly (as my son tried to protect me from her and ended up taking some of the hits on top of the ones aimed at him), put a new hole in my wall, poured caramel coffee on my carpet, games, table, books, grabbed a soda and did the same with the soda, upended a bowl of soggy Trix onto my carpet and stood on the food to grind it in and spit on me 4 or 5 times.Verbally she was as nasty as she's ever been. The list according to her: I deserve to be raped by a gang of black men and torn in half. (not sure why the people in question have to be black but she did scream that she's racist during the rant, too.) She hopes my partner kicks me out due to the damages and I get to be a homeless meth addict. I'm a terrible bitch of a mother. I'm dead to her. I'm why she shoots up, sleeps around, got raped by multiple men while homeless (the number kept changing as she screamed) and I don't love her because if I did, I would want her to live with me.I told her multiple times to leave after trying to calm her down didn't work. While ranting and raving (and trying to steal my jewelry and the little cash I had laying around), she demanded I use my phone to call her a lyft (and pay for it) as well as give her money to go somewhere else on a train before telling us that she's going to have her homeless friends come rob us and burn the house down.My son had to get in between me and her....and that's what keeps playing through my head. I left his father because he used to hurt the kids and I was always the one standing between him and them. No one should ever have to protect their mom from a relative. It's wrong and it's tearing me up. I'm also in a ton of pain, have bruises (my son, amazingly, isn't sporting any) and am apparently getting sick. The family talked and she's not allowed back for a long time but I can't help but feel this is my fault because I shouldn't have let her stay this time, to begin with.*edited because I left out a couple words via /r/Parenting http://ift.tt/2ku95Qf
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