"Look, all I am saying is it is hard. You are twenty one and I am thirty seven. I have a trauma history as long as it is deep, and it ain't like your own trauma is small or meaningless. But you throwing fits and sobbing and shouting and blaming me and every other person in your life, effects me. Punching yourself full force right in the fucking face gets to me. Threatening to run off, or pull out all your hair, or your teeth, gets to me. Fighting with your highschool sweetheart, you are now twenty one, and twenty two, getting into full blown screaming matches and revealing anything and everything, throwing your weed into the street in a town of thirty five thousand, Mennonite ladies seeing stuff and looking sad, right downtown, gets to me. I just want you to get well, get stronger, at twenty one rather than thirty six. 

It sucks so bad you are going through this shit with your kids. they are two and a month old, and it is hard them being in the custody of your mother, I know how hard the c-section was on yoou just a month ago. But they are safe. For whatever lack of emotional levels and support Ma can give, she is good with little ones, babies.

But the going off every day, needing 5 to 20 dollars every day. I only get 900 US a month. I was earning more, but I got layed off from my first part time job ever, as a janitor and things have gotten tight, financially speaking, I understand emotions are not something you can completely control. I am trying to be chill about that. But this shit is hard on me, I have a drinking issue myself. I only have so much gas to go on. I love you and will be there. But this stuff does hit me".