April 7, 2018:

Probably the most extreme example was when she slashed her own tires.

Her tires were shot: unsafe to drive over the mountain to therapy in Santa Clara. I bought her a new set, not cheap, intended to be safe in rain and also to last a long time.

It only took one day before three of them were destroyed.

She told a long tale about passing out on some guy's couch, having a fight with his suspicious gf, discovering in the morning that the gf had maliciously done the slashing. As typical with her lies there was too much detail. Specifics about the bar, the dude, the couch, the rug, the time of night. She piles up the trivia to try to imply verisimilitude. For me these minutiae are instant alarm bells.

I was starting to discover how expensive her care was going to become. Those tires were $400. In the end I paid her auto loan, her payday advances, her insurance premiums, eventually her rehab bill and her extensive legal fees, many of which were the result of her domestic battery of me. Finally her emigration costs.

These experiences should have taught me that she was unserious about recovery, and that for as long as she lived with me I'd be her ATM. They did in fact teach me these obvious truths. My decision was to not allow her to die. Or live on the street. Or in a shelter. I took care of her despite the cost and despite the battery until she had a safe alternative, the husband she found in Scotland who she loves and I love too.