The M Factor

To start, I need to explain Michelle and how she ties into this emotional crisis I am facing.

Michelle is my adopted daughter. We adopted her in 2014 when she was 17. She lived with us for a year through her senior year of high school. Our relationship with her was mostly that of safety net as she transitioned to adulthood. She had been in the foster system for thirteen years after being taken from her abusive parents. She grew up in a group home on a ranch, and went to school in a private academy on the property. She was a good kid with some mild behavioral and mental health issues, but she was eager to be placed with a family, and she was instantly a very kind and attentive sister to Andrew.

And I hated her.

She did nothing wrong, certainly nothing to deserve it, but I could not stand her. She was a loud-mouthed hick who tried to prove she knew everything and could one-up everyone. She had a penchant for telling her listener what she thought they wanted to hear or what would impress them the most. She was awkward and hulking. I couldn't stand the way she chewed, the way she talked, the way she smelled, the way she walked. I cannot stress enough that she did not deserve this. She was eager and kind and obedient. I just couldn't stand her.

And the worst part was that she lived in my home. I couldn't ignore her, I couldn't get away from her, and my obligation made it to where I couldn't express what I was feeling. In all of my interactions with her, I had to second-guess my every action. Was it rational? Was it appropriate? How would my mother have treated me in this situation? I had to bury every instinct and exercise a tight leash over my words and actions. So I resented her, and I began to be horribly angry and suffocated as I tried to hide it. I also had some bad feelings toward God for a while.

I doubled my antidepressants. Kevin went on them for the only time in his life. 

We got through it, and my resentment of her waned with time. I have even felt fond of her and proud of some of her decisions. 

Then, recently, at age 26, she got into a bad roommate situation that seemed pretty inescapable through no fault of her own. It felt like the right thing to do, to invite her to move to Colorado with us and live in our basement for a few months, until she saved enough for the upfront costs to get into her own apartment. 

She arrived at the end of June. She has been clean and respectful and independent and responsible, and, as always, a very kind and loving older sister. 

And I find myself hiding in my bedroom to avoid her. I feel tense and angry when she's around. Kevin is exhibiting signs of depression once more. 

None of what follows is her fault. None. But the feelings may be the result of the depression I feel from the stress of having her in my home.