Well, here we are, AGAIN, with Madisyn. She showed up outside our door some time Sunday evening (making it roughly five days she was gone, with no word), banging on the door, ringing the doorbell, shouting that she was sorry, sheâs cold, would we let her in so she could get some clothes. Fortunately, weâd already bagged up most of her clothing, as well as some blankets. She dug through those, then shut herself into the junk mobile. We ended up calling the cops twice, with the banging and doorbell ringing, and jerking at the doorknob. It ended with her in the truck again, which I didnât care about, and the police officer telling us to call again if necessary.
Monday, Matthew started talking about how he wanted to let her come in, because it was so cold out (which it was; it hit 27 last night, I think, plus it snowed off and on all day). I said no, that wasnât happening, and did he remember the five days with no word from her? And we went back and forth like that all. freaking. day. He went out to talk to her at some point, despite my telling him that wasnât a good idea. He came back in a while later saying she didnât have money for a motel, she had about $17 â she blew her whole check on drugs. Then he said she wanted to come in and talk to me, to explain herself what happened. I told him no, I had no interest in talking to her. Because I donât. Weâre not doing this againâŚexcept for how we are.
According to Madisyn, via Matthew, she wasnât with her friend K. Sheâd called someone else, or they called her, I donât know. And this person came and picked her up, and then gave her something that kept her stoned/high/whatever, and prevented her from calling anyone or leaving to get to work. She was passed around and sexually assaulted, while shooting meth and heroin. And at the end of it, some time Sunday, she got an Uber to bring her back here.
I really donât want any contact with her, nor any responsibility for her. Matthew is hovering around looking sad and miserable and angry, in turns, saying he âjust wants to be a decent human beingâ -- which is the phrase he used repeated the last time she showed up on our doorstep, after she got out of jail. I understand that, but at the same time, she snuck out of the house, sent him a text saying she was somewhere she wasnât, with someone she wasnât. She never answered any of his text messages, or messenger/snapchat messages, phone calls, nothing. It sounds like she could have walked away at any time, or at least texted him and said âhelpâ, but she didnât. We told her when we did the intervention thing in June, that this was her last chance. If she did drugs again, she was out. Now she has â she told him sheâs been using again, for months â and thatâs it for me. I donât wish any harm on her, and I want her to get the help she so obviously needs, but I donât want her here in my home any longer. And I feel *awful* saying that. I feel like the worldâs worst person. But holy Hannah, there need to be some boundaries. I need to set some boundaries.
Matthew snuck her in last night. Heâd been talking about it, and I told him that would be the worst thing he could do, and he did it anyway. And then Megan got up to take a shower (she and Donnie both have the flu), went into Matthewâs room (the shower in my bathroom doesnât work), and heard someone snoring. She knew Matthew was sleeping in the living room, as was I, so there was only one other option. Oh, Megan was mad. Matthew got mad back, and then Donnie joined the group, and I had to be the one to tell everyone to calm it down, because yelling at each other wasnât going to accomplish anything.
We told Matthew she had to leave the house. She could go back into the truck, but she had to leave the actual apartment. He was so angry and upset, and crying about how cold it was out there, but by that point it was 7a, the sun was coming up, and I told him that sheâd warmed up, she had clothes and blankets, and she needed to go. Megan called her probation officer and got voice mail. We know she missed her PO visit, because that was this past Thursday. For all we know, thereâs a bench warrant out for her. Matthew kept going on about being a decent human being, but Iâm tired of being the decent human being. There has been nothing but discord in our home since he brought her home. Weâve dealt with her relapsing several times. With manic behavior. With lying, and stealing, and destruction of things that didnât belong to her. I canât understand why the hell he wants to have anything to do with her, and less than 12 hours ago he was telling me he wants to âfix his relationshipâ. He wants them to learn how to communicate, so things like this donât happen. But there is zero trust between them â she went as far as to set up a separate FB account, just for talking to other men for/about sex, when she wouldnât even cuddle with him anymore. They both lie to each other. She told him that this around she wanted to kill herself, thatâs why she mixed the heroin with the meth. And she took some pills. Xanex, and some others I donât remember.
Then he kept going on about her coming out here to talk to me--after telling me that she believes that me, Megan and Donnie all hate her and donât give a fuck what happens to her. I told him I do not wish any harm upon her, and I want her to get help and be well. But thatâs the limit of it. I told him she would have to have minimum six months in rehab and counseling before I would even consider interaction with her â but quite frankly, Iâm just not interested. And he keeps saying he loves her, and she makes him happy, which led me to ask him, in what way has she made him happy at ALL in the past year. What has she done/said? Because heâs walked around for the past year looking miserable all the time. ALL the time. Angry with her, with her behavior, with her not helping us, spending all her check on stupid shit. Heâs talked about harming himself. Does any of that sound like love?
Iâve been pushing the in-patient rehab thing pretty strongly. They work with addiction, with mental health issues, with getting your life back on the right track. But all sheâll say is sheâll see a counselor. I donât think that would be sufficient, and how is she going to get to said counselor? Where will she be living? How will she get insurance? At least one of the in-patient options takes Medicaid, which she qualifies for now, because she doesnât have a job any longer.
And like I said at the beginning of thisâŚI canât believe weâre here, again. A whole year, and nothing has changed. Actually, nearly two years, because she showed up on our doorstep early February of 2024.
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