Went to a neighbours party last night.
Did you go to the Christmas lights switch on?
Have you seen the nativity scene this year?
Have you been to the Christmas market?
Did you see Santa at the park at the end of the road today?
Will you do the New Year round town walk?
No. No. No. No. No.
I want to scream at them: NO! My daughters can’t go out. We as a family can’t go out. And it’s not fucking bastarding fair!
But we can’t tell anyone why. And there’s no way it’s going to change anytime soon. When the birth parents’ house needs the dirty squad in they’ll be ‘re-housed here no doubt because social workers wont talk to housing. And despite the fact they’ve been in court over 10 times this year alone neither birth parent has been imprisoned.
So our girls STILL aren’t safe to go out. In their own town.
Fucking fuckety fuck.
Expectations! Who needs ’em? Not me.
I’m giving up expectations for New Year. I expect(!) I will be a lot calmer for it, as my expectations this year, and the subsequent battles arising from them, have led me into a twilight world of anxiety and despair. The main expectations I will no longer be taunting myself with are (in no particular order):
- That the adoption ‘support’ team should understand and be willing to help.
- That Bubble’s attachment to us will grow.
- That the girls’ birth parents will leave our town.
- That Bubble will get what she needs from an EHCP.
- That we will have a happy family holiday.
- That I will look for a job.
- That our normal will become more like other people’s normal.
- That people around us will understand the pressures we are under.
- That teachers understand why a child can be compliant at school, and have melt downs at home, and it not be the ‘fault’ of the parents.
- That it’s going to get easier to manage the dynamics when the sisters get together.
- That Big Sis’s foster carer will give us her address.
Yep. Those are the main ones I guess. Lots more little tiddlers lurk in the shallows, but those are the biggies. Recently I’ve tried to find the time to do some mindfulness, some calm breathing, and listen to the Headspace app. I’ve rarely managed this, but I keep trying. Letting go of the pictures in my head of how having a family is ‘supposed’ to be, and how social workers could support us, will be the best self care of all. And slowly, achingly slowly, I may just come to appreciate that letting each situation be what it is, will be easier than trying to force it to be something other.
No expectations, though.