Run Away

Last night SUCKED.

What do you do with a hormonal, emotionally charged, 14 year old convinced that she's in love and, in fact, is going to get married to the boy target of her affection? A girl desperate to be on her own, be in charge of her life, and to do what she wants, but completely oblivious to the price on the tag, or even that there is a price tag at all?  A girl who doesn't seem to know how to see past the next ten minutes?

What do you do with someone you love so profoundly nothing really makes sense without them but being with them is equal parts pain as pleasure? A person you have ultimate responsibility for who is determined to thwart every single effort you make in their regard be it for safety, health, happiness, fun, or empowerment?

I'm really searching for an answer for this girl who seems to be a frightened wounded wild animal trapped within a cage in the very throws of deep panic? I quake at the many possibilities that she could fall into, the various pits of despair she digs for herself, and I wince with each new crack in my heart as I witness her blatant disregard for the pain and agony she and her choice may cause those who love and value her.

I love my daughter.

I. LOVE. My DAUGHTER.

Last night she chose to complete a plan she'd created with her "boyfriend" and her long time friend--who no doubt thought this was just SOOOO romantic--to gather a few items over a couple of days, plant them in the alley, and meet up with "G" so that they could run off into the sunset where they would get married, have babies, live in the house of their dreams, drive amazing cars, and live happily ever after... Yeah, because they live in a romantic comedy where misguided bratty teens make stupid choices but get whatever they want with pink and gold sunsets reflecting in glassy beach water and parents who apologize for having an interest in their children learning values and virtues like: responsibility, cooking, cleaning, work, kindness, compassion, sharing, gratitude, politeness, honor, and honesty.

Why can't they see that what we really want for them is maximum options and possibilities for them, the most amount of exciting choices for them to choose for when they get to the point in life that they actually GET to make and keep them? I mean, I know it's par for the course for teens to doubt parental concern thinking we like to be mean and treat them like chumps just because we can, but I don't remember having a total and absolute belief the my parents enjoyed and relished a personal sadistic pleasure in making life as difficult, UN-fun, lonely, and torturous as possible.


Alas, that's my daughter; perpetual pessimist, profound under-estimator of others, and the world biggest victim of all things unfair. In fact, there's probably a national conspiracy against her written on "top secret" file papers  of each of our country's alphabet organizations...in fact, maybe a global one.  We're all against her, and it's time to admit it.........Sigh   This story gets so tiring.

Last night, my darling girl, left the house to meet "G". They walked around the city for a long time and did who-knows-what until they wrapped up the night trying to acquire a get-away car.

Today. I'm angry. I don't want to talk to her. I don't want to look at her. I LOVE HER. But I'm AN-GERRR-Y

The officer who brought her back was awesome. He was calm. He was kind. He wasn't taking any crap. He talked to us. He let us talk to him...and talk...and talk. He was patient. He was clear.  He was just what I would have wanted in that scenario.

We had friends and family looking for her. Crying for her. Worrying about her. Praying for her. Scared. Frustrated.

And when she was brought back, we all were relieved.

When she was returned, She. Was. Mad.  She was embarrassed. She was upset that she was home.

She was ok with all of us being sad, mad, scared, worried, upset... for her, it was acceptable, no problem. For her, knowing we were all torn up inside just simply did not affect her.  And I'm angry about that.

What do you do with a 14 year old who does that?