Our daughter came over for a quick visit last night. She said that her and her boyfriend had had a little fight. She grabbed some soup and had a talk with me for a few minutes before Grandma gave her a ride home. She did ask for a few bucks. I told her that we didn’t have any. Which we didn’t. I had just gone grocery shopping earlier in the day and spent some money on food, which we didn’t really have to spend but we have to eat. We don’t quite had enough to cover our rent cheque but we’re counting on getting some money soon that we’re entitled to from the government. We should have gotten it by now.
Our daughter finally got her own cheque from Welfare. She’s supposed to go to school full-time now, or get a note from her doctor saying why she can’t attend. She says it’s because of anxiety. She only has half a year of school left. Half a year and she’ll be eighteen. I can hardly believe it. I hope we did a good enough job of raising her. We did the best we could.
I’m sure I could have been a better parent if I had been diagnosed with BPD sooner. Then I could’ve gotten the right treatment sooner. All I can do now is do the best I can from now on. It’s my mission to help others so that they can get the help they need sooner, and lessen stigma. I hope I am doing a good job of that. Then at least I’ve done something right.