by Laurel Willow

Created on: May 08, 2008

So many have told me I have enabled my daughter to the point she is incapable of doing anything for herself. Last night my cell phone rang as I was driving home from my MS Support group meeting. It was my daughter, hysterically crying as she was once again complaining that she doesn't know what to do with all her stuff. Several girls,including Samantha, have rented a storage unit to store their stuff for the duration. She has to pack up her college dorm room for the summer (a total of 3 1/2 months) and there is so much to do. She's in school in Buffalo, NY, a northern location close to the Canadian border and we live on Long Island, a more southern location.

I've told her to leave all her winter clothes and just bring home the summery stuff.

The response I get is more tears, yelling and "I just want to hear your voice!" Then why did you call me? Why can't she handle this?

I finally exploded and verbalized my regret,"Look, just blame me. It is all my fault. I enabled you all your life and that's why you are having so much trouble. My shrink, Jim, my biological father, my father who raised me, my girlfriends, my support group, everyone I know has told me this. So just blame me. It's my fault you can't do this on your own. I'm sorry. I apologized. But you really have to get a grip, Sam and get it done already." I had no idea why I was saying this in response to her call. Wait, yes, I do; I have heard this criticism so many times recently that it seemed like the only thing I could say. I"ve done the "Oh, poor dear! I wish I was there to help you. It'll be alright. Don't worry. You'll be fine," route to no avail. I was fed up with the calls, the bubbles of snot, the crying. The yelling. The suggestions that were blown off. With being yelled at for not responding the way she wanted, which, by the way, I have yet to figure out apparently. I hung up.

She called back, throughly confused, but still yelling, "Why are you say this? I just needed someone to talk to. It's not your fault. I just can't do this." Well, there it was: validation of the fact that I had enabled her. What to say back?

I apologized again, "Honey, I'm sorry. But you really have to do this. When are they coming for your stuff?"

"Tomorrow!"

I could not respond. I just cried with bubbles of snot coming out of my nose. I hung up on her again. I finished driving home. I wanted to watch TV and forget about it. (I'm really good at denial, too.) I poured the last glass of wine, took two pain pills for my screaming legs and sat down to watch my show.

My husband's cell phone rang. It was her. He handled it. Her step father of the last 8 years.

He came into the livingroom with a smile and a kiss,

"Sam packing her stuff. She needs more money in her account. I'll be right back." Another kiss and he left.

My phone didn't ring the rest of the night.

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