Robyn smells like curry.

I nuzzle my nose into her hair and sniff. She giggles, bats me away, and calls me a psycho.

I don’t care.

It’s the smell of achievement. One victory. Success.

About a month ago we took a trip to The Fairytale Store. We hadn’t been there for quite a while. Maybe we were due a trip. There was a time when we went so often we should have been eligible for a loyalty card. For many years we were certainly regular customers.

I hate The Fairytale Store.

For years I used to cause a great deal of damage at that store. Once I knew where we were, I would stomp and storm through it, crashing and thrashing and bashing anything and everything in sight. Tear down the lies; destroy the deceit. Carnage be damned.

Yeah……. that didn’t work.

I spent 1/4 of my life taking the BOGOF sales at The Fairytale Store personally. How could she go so often? How could she browse around so confidently and make the sale so readily – looking me right in the eyes. This was not flesh of my flesh. No. Way.

It wasn’t.

Give anyone global developmental delay coupled with undiagnosed ADHD, a huge portion of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and a side order of Borderline Personality Disorder – and the street to The Fairytale Store is paved with gold.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying it is a ‘Get out of Jail Free’ card, but I have come to learn that people suffering with certain mental disorders experience a distorted reality to the rest of us. That makes it really hard for some people to relate to the world around them.

‘It’s a war zone in my head,” a woman once told me. She was describing what it was like living with Borderline Personality Disorder. She had lost her children and her family had disowned her. It wasn’t until a Court ordered assessment on her gave her a diagnosis and she started medication. It gave her a new lease on life but the personal cost was catastrophic.

I sometimes think about how far Robyn had to go to finally get help. How deep her darkness; how low she was. Some of it was her getting to the point where she wanted help, but there was a period of time when help was just not available to her. She wasn’t bad enough.

That’s another post.

Anyways, this trip to The Fairytale Store related to her previous job. She decided she hated it. She secretly put Impulsivity in her purse and walked out the door.

There’s no need to get into detail, but it took a bit of sleuthing for me to figure out what was going on. And as always, I faced it head on. i walked right in.

I made a choice. I didn’t smash things up this time. I walked into the store and stood there until she was ready to come home with me.

It looked like this:

A single text…… I’m not mad. I’m just worried about the decisions you’re making. Come home when you’re ready and we can talk.

About an hour later I heard the door. I was expecting a scene about how she was leaving and I’m too overbearing.

It didn’t come.

We talked. It was calm. She said my text made all the difference. It’s what allowed her to come home. She didn’t feel rejected. She felt understood.

We shut down The Fairytale Store that day. I pray to my beloved Jesus it is bankrupt.

Three days later she got another job at an Indian restaurant. The owner loves her. It’s high end and she’s making great tips. And they work around her school schedule.

Robyn smells like curry.

We closed down The Fairytale Store. I didn’t trash it.

One more victory.