tryingtotrust

Dear Mom,
Looking at you through the glass hurt even more than I thought it would. Jail. You want us to bale you out, but you won't even admit that you need help. I want to bale you out more than anything. I want to hug you, fix you a huge meal and buy you the nicest lotion money can buy (i'm sure using butter is getting old). You think we are crazy for leaving you there. You don't think you should be there. We have tried so hard to get you to get help before it came down to this. But nothing we said worked. Now, our only hope is that you'll be sentenced to some kind of inpatient clinic.
The hate in your eyes scares me. I am so scared that when you do get out you are never going to talk to me again. I miss you. I hope we are doing the right thing. I will never stop loving you.