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A Heartbreaking Letter to Santa

Dad is the REAL Grinch

My heart is broken. I am angry and sad. Tonight, my daughter {#3 of my threefold, age 11} wrote her letter to Santa. She admitted she wants a lot for Christmas, but what she wanted most was to be able to see her dad. This shouldn’t be a request, a gift, or even a thought. You would assume that it would be an easy Christmas wish to grant. However, it’s not. This is because her dad, is the real Grinch.

The man she calls dad is not going to see her this Christmas or any of the three daughters that bear his name. It’s sad. It’s sad, because while he lives and breathes and walks this earth each day, he has chosen not to be a dad. The calls are rare, the visits are nonexistent, and the manipulation is heavy. Instead, drugs and toxic cycles of abuse and manipulation are his legacy.

Snapshots of Dad

The man she knows as dad chose drugs over being a parent. He chose his own selfish desires over being a dad. He chose a life that has no place for children and no room for a relationship with them. Its sad. Tragic and heartbreaking. My 11 year old wants a dad that he cannot be for her or her sisters. She compares him to the grinch. Bad on the outside, but deep down he is good. However, no matter how much we struggle even in “recovery” he refuses to be a participant in parenting.

A year ago he had money to spare from his 100k  inheritance and sat unemployed. He smirked as he bought a new motorcycle, drums, camera, phone, computer and the list goes on.He went on vacation and to concerts. He bought drugs and partied regularly. Meanwhile, I struggled to pay our rent and buy Christmas for my threefold.

6 months ago, he had already pawned everything he owned. The one thing he had left was the car that he traded his 2022 Harley in for. That car became his home.
This man who had physically, emotionally and financially abused mythreefold and I called ME for help and because I wanted to be better, I helped. I checked him into rehab. Drove him to the facility and even bought him the things he needed. I housed his belongings and kept his friends updated. I had divorced him, moved on with my life, but still tried for my threefold.

After Rehab, I got him into a sober living facility. A week in and he left. He showed up at my door and demanded his belongings. I told him we were done. I stood strong as he towered over me in my own yard. I called the police and he left.

All of this followed by a week of hell and we were scared as he sat stranded without gas money just a few miles from our home. Finally, he was rescued by a friend and he left town. He had vanished 500 miles away to live with his younger brother on the opposite side of the state.

Wish Ungranted

Months went by and we hadn’t heard from them. Last month, he began communicating with #3, the only one that still has affection for him. The one that still wants to believe his lies and sees hope in his darkness. The one that sees the good inside the grinch. I wish I could fix the bad, but I can’t. Mom is not made of magic.

Now, this. A letter to Santa. After 28 weeks of combined trauma care and crisis intervention for my youngest two daughters. I work my life away to provide the life we have. Up to 50 hours per week, side hustles, and resourcefulness. I don’t receive financial support from the government, nor do i get support from him. This is my hard work, blood, sweat and tears. Its that of the man that stepped up. This is 50k in medical debt, scrounging for grocery and bill money, a vehicle with a blown engine and prayers for a Christmas miracle that includes gifts under our tree. This. A gift I can’t give. The Christmas wish I won’t be granting. Although she understands, she doesn’t see how much I want to give her the dad she needs him to be, not the grinch he chose to be.

Per the request of readers & followers of My Threefold donations for My Threefold can be made via cash app $mythreefold or venmo @my3threefold. ☮️❤️😊~M

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Stop the Insanity

I’m screaming. Why am I screaming? I know it’s not going to help. However, nothing I’ve done to this point has helped either. Here we are again. I’m sitting reading and re-reading the suicide note from my 14 year old daughter. Asking myself again, how we got here, what did I miss, and why she doesn’t want to be in this world anymore. I just want to stop the insanity.

Missing the Signs

I missed the Signs? AGAIN. She didn’t confide in me. AGAIN. I’m calling the crisis hot line.https://www.samhsa.gov › find-help
988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline | SAMHSA I’m calling the psychiatrist. I’m calling out at work. She is bleeding. Inside and out. She is hoarding medication. Planning her suicide. AGAIN. She is deciphering if jumping off a cliff or overdosing would be a quicker way to end her existence. I’m lost. I’m confused. I’m angry.

Blame Game

I’m so incredibly angry. I’m not sure where to place my anger. Who can I blame? Why is this happening to her? To us? I choose to place blame on everyone, especially myself. I blame her, too, which isn’t fair. I bought the act. I handed her the weapon. I chose, yet again, to believe the pretty picture she had painted to cover her pain. I wanted so much to believe it. However, I should’ve known. Why didn’t I know? We’ve been through this before.

I Should’ve Known

I should’ve learned how to catch on quicker to the cover up. The first hospitalization in 2020 taught me to take it more seriously. The hospitalization in 2021, that lasted 18 weeks, should’ve been enough for me to understand the gravity of it all. After the hospitalizations earlier this year, I should’ve known that she would hide the hurt until it was nearly too late. Now, here I sit asking myself, what are we going to do this time?

What Now?

Another hospitalization, more medication changes, intensive therapy, inpatient, residential, intensive outpatient, or something else? There is no cure, that’s what she told me just last week. I know. I wish there was. In conclusion, I’m lost, but I’m thankful that I haven’t lost her to this battle.

Keep Fighting

Regardless, what the statistics say, I won’t stop fighting. No amount of money or time is going to stop me from finding her the treatment she needs. I’ll keep fighting her demons, and my own, for as long as I live. I’m not giving up. I’m never going to surrender even while I scream how unfair this is for us. My pain is no match to the pain she is living with. Pray for us all. Pray for #2. Pray for my threefold. Pray for this mom who is trying to mom mental illness. Together, we’ve got this. ☮️❤️😊~M