SpilyayTymoo
Warm Springs, Oregon
May 21, 1998 9
The story of an eleven-year journey-
More than two years have passed since the 11-year-old
chapter of our lives came into focus. I spent half
my adult life in self-deception, passivity and
dependency. With the end of this tumultuous chapter
has come an awareness and empathy for those who
are in seemingly impossible situations. It is my hope
these words will strike a chord and help others realize
they're not alone and that there can be a positive end
to what is a destructive cycle.
You may feel you have heard this story a hundred
times before. My purpose for writing this is two-fold:
one, it feels right to tell the story now and two, even
though it may be a familiar story, the ending is unlike
many others. The cycle of drug abuse and violence
stopped. Our family grew from the experience and we
have moved beyond the anger and pain.
My daughter was a liar. I've tried to pinpoint when
it all began but that's impossible. More importantly,
why did it happen?
Penny was always considered to be an extremely
bright child. Her Head Start teachers suspected she
was a genius. She was a leader among her three- and
four-year-old friends. She was independent, got along
well with others and she easily accepted
responsibilities at home, even at her young age.
We were careful to teach her the difference between
right and wrong. We sent her to Sunday school. We
taught her that she would get into more trouble if she
lied to us than if she told us the truth, no matter what.
She was, and continues to be, bull-headed. As
parents, her father and I spent a lot of time
compromising with her and pointedly explaining why
she should or shouldn't do certain things. We
gradually realized she felt things could go only one
way hers.
Her intelligence and stubbornness have,
unfortunately, worked hand-in-hand in a very
negative way. She convincingly lied her way through
scrapes with the
law, me, her dad,
other family
members, teachers,
bosses any person
or entity she
perceived to be ,,
authoritative or
threatening.
School came easy
for Penny. She learned the basics with no problem. In
the early grades, her report cards boasted A's and B's.
Things declined some when her dad and I divorced.
She began exhibiting the highly emotional signs of
puberty when she was nine. A wonderful sixth-grade
teacher gently helped guide Penny through difficult
post-divorce, pre-pubescent times.
I never denied that my children would be at risk for
drug abuse. However, I was hopeful that by my living
a decent life they would live and learn by example. It
was not to be. At 11-years-of-age, Penny and a
girlfriend practiced snorting artificial sweetner to see
how snorting coke would feel. This experimentation
was merely a bridge to the serious drugs readily
available in our community. Penny concealed and
"muled" drugs for local dealers who knew she would
not get into serious trouble if caught.
When Penny entered junior high school, I felt
confidant that she would excel, that the worst was
behind us, that she was growing up. Foolishly, I
thought, "I'm your friend, not your enemy," "We're in
this together," ideology would work. Wrong. Penny
was dealt detention the first day of seventh grade after
getting into a fight with another girl. The trouble was
just becoming apparent.
Penny brought home few friends. This is not to say
she didn't have acquaintances. These acquaintances
were never introduced to me, for good reason. As far
as I knew, Penny and her girl friends spent Friday and
Saturday nights doing the make-up and hair thing.
These were normal, innocent enough activities for the
pre-teen set. I was always relieved when I heard the
giggles and laughter roll toward me from down the
hall. At least I knew where they were, I'd tell myself.
Isn't it nice they care so much about their appearance,
I'd fool myself. However, now that I'm older and
wiser, I realize the girls were merely practicing for the
"real" thing. With their big hair and garish make-up,
the girls would somehow, unbeknownst to me, attract
the more unsavory characters of this small town. The
older, often drug-laden young men of this community
preyed on, and continue to do so, the girls with low
self-esteem.
Penny became sexually active when she was 12. 1
suspected it, but it wasn't until she was a little older
that I confronted her. I denied that "my little girl" liked moody, I'd say. (Of course she was. She'd been using
I
Being a teen mom was difficult
for Penny. Being a 40-year-old
grandmother was just as hard. I
had a difficult time letting Penny
be a mom.
Penny's stubbornness and
intelligence have worked hand-in-hand
in a very negative way. She
successfully lied her way through
numerous encounters with the law,
family and school officials.
sex; that, at her young age, she could be a sexual
individual. I prompted her to get on birth control
didn't necessarily condone teen sex, but reality is
reality I didn't want her to become part of the ugly
teen pregnancy statistics. But at 16, Penny became
pregnant and had her first child less than two weeks
after her 17th birthday.
Being a teen mom was hard. Being a 40-year-old
grandmother was
just as hard. Penny
wasn't my only
child in the house.
I had another teen
aged daughter to
consider when the
baby came. It was a
difficult
adjustment equaled by no other challenge before or
since then. I had a strong circle of friends, and a caring
family, who helped me through these tough years.
Penny's father, removed from the area, was as
supportive as he could be, but his life didn't really
allow for a troubled teen with a baby.
The baby was colicky and fussy which caused us all
to be tense which caused the baby to be even more
colicky and fussy. The mid-night feedings, child care
needs and extra expenses were nearly all, as a single
mother, I could handle. I put my life on hold to help
my daughter and her baby. I barely functioned at
work. My boss and co-workers were patient, but the
guilt I felt for not doing my job well was crippling.
It was almost impossible for me to let my daughter
be a mom. After I would see her doing things or hear
her saying things that I didn't agree with, I would butt
in and the fight would be on. Unfortunately, I was
Penny's sole support system outside of school. Her
friends thought it was "neat" that she had a baby. Most
wanted babies of their own. At times, I think these
young girls have babies to get attention. Penny
told me she just wanted something of her own
to love.
Once the baby got older, Penny started
venturing out more, leaving the baby with me. I
can't remember the number of times I had to
fetch her from this apartment, that hotel room,
that "friends" house. I didn't like what she was
up to, but I feared that if I made life too difficult
for her at home, she would take the baby I
loved so much and run. So, I made it easy for her. I
rolled over and became the passive parent. I allowed
her to bring her men friends into my home. I
rationalized it. At least I knew where she was, I knew
she was safe (if you can call it
that) and, while she was home,
she had responsibility for the
baby. One of her men friends got
busted, at my house, for
possession. I couldn't believe
that I could be so gullible and
that Penny would allow the man
to endanger her baby and the
rest of her family.
When Penny got serious about another man, I was
relieved. She was still living at home, working some
but contributing very little to the household. Her new
man seemed level-headed, a hard worker and very
industrious. He had a steady job and was always
willing to help Penny with the baby. However, it
didn't relieve the stress at home. I got tired of always
coming home to a mess, the constant chaos, the
demands. I was about to give them the boot, when
Penny and her new man up and moved out to their
own apartment. I was relieved. At least I didn't have to
be the bad guy.
Come to find out, Penny was pregnant with her
second child, at 20 years of age. About a year after the
second child's birth, Penny and her man were married.
But, one night, just a few months after their marriage,
Penny threatened to shoot her husband with his pistol.
The "love birds separated." Penny's husband took most
of their belongings, leaving Penny and the kids living
in an almost empty, much-too-expensive rental. He
moved into a small house and she was later forced to
move into another less-expensive apartment with the
kids. At the time, I felt I needed to help Penny. I paid
off her car and I helped her with the rent. I was
throwing good money after bad.
Drugs continued to play a very destructive role in all
our lives. It became obvious to me that something was
wrong with Penny. Maybe she was sick, I'd tell myself.
Penny dropped a lot of weight, had gray circles under
her eyes all the time, would exhibit violent fits of anger
for no reason. I denied she was using. She was always
since she was 11 years old. I knew only a drug-
induced personality and could not tell the difference.)
The changes were difficult for Penny's oldest child
to handle. This beautiful grandchild, so bright, so fun,
so lovable started acting out, became unruly and was
unbearable. It amazed me that a firm hug and gentle
voice could reverse the behavior so easily. I had to
provide a calm and safe environment for this child. So,
in the fall, my grandchild moved into my home
with us. I did not do this to make Penny's life
easier. I did it for the mental well-being and safety
of my grandchild. 1
Penny maintained custody of her youngest. It
was a way for her to conceal the drugs and money
she was holding for her dealer. Numerous suicide
attempts brought the law into the picture. Custody
of the children was officially given to her husband
and to me. Penny continued to keep in touch, but I
rarely saw her. I wasn't sure where she was living or
even if she had a roof over her head. Hour-long
telephone
My grandchild started
exhibiting extreme signs
of stress. He started
acting out and became
unruly. A firm hug and
calm voice often calmed
him. I needed to provide
him a safe and stable
environment in which to
live.
conversations
convinced me Penny
was in a self-destruct
mode. I did not know
where to go for help.
She was on a down
hill slope and sliding
fast. If it had not been
for a not-so-popular
'undercover' cop,
Penny, I firmly believe,
would be dead now.
She knew she was
under suspicion. The
paranoia that accompanies drug use went into full
swing. Everyone was "after her". The only people she
trusted were part of the seedy drug community.
Everyone was suspicious of Penny. So-and-so was
taking pictures of me, she'd say. They're following me
around, she'd tell me. Penny's demise came late one
night when her husband caught her smoking crank in
an abandoned house. She got busted.
Penny was in jail. No matter how hard it was to
leave her, no matter how, many heart-wrenching ,
collect calls I got from her, I knew jail was the safest
place for her. She had hit bottom. She had lost her
kids, her home, her marriage, her job, everything that
should have been important to her. How she
maintained the appearance of any sort of normalcy
and productivity while using is beyond me. I guess
that's where her intelligence came into play.
Penny, instead of doing
major jail time, chose
treatment. She completed the
program in less than 60 days
and returned home an
entirely new person. It was
like having a stranger in my
house. She was calm, sane,
nice and fun to be around.
We became friends again.
Penny's treatment was successful. She remains clean
to this day. Her life has not been without hardships.
She had to earn her husband's trust all over. She had
to earn my trust, her children's trust. It was difficult
for her to get a job again. But Penny maintained and
beat the odds and has not returned to her former life.
She has proven herself over and over again. Where
Penny's intelligence and stubbornness worked against
her in her youth, they have worked just as positively
for her as she has grown older.
There are times when Penny exhibits some of the
traits of a practicing addict. Her anger often gets in the
way of her personal growth and maturity. She
continues to have a hard time with authority.
In writing this piece, I relieve myself of some of the
guilt I have amassed over the past decade or so. I
know now, with affirmation from my friends, family,
and Penny herself, that I did the best I could
considering the circumstances. Parents, don't fool
yourselves into thinking this will never happen to you.
No family is immune. I have seen the ugly side of my
small, quiet town. I have seen the goings on and the '
"good" kids get sucked into the seediest of lifestyles. I
can only hope we don't have to go through it with the
next generation.
Our family has done more than move beyond the
past. We have begun the struggle of recovery and self
discovery. We have begun the arduous trip down a
road of pitfalls, barriers and breakthroughs. To all on
the same trip I say, it's a journey worth the effort.
I didn't particularly like what
Penny was up to, but I feared she
would take off with the baby if I
made life too difficult for her or put
too many demands on her.