Friday, February 17, 2012

Rainy day visit...

This afternoon I had a visit with my Youngest, who loves to visit my home--- partly 'cause it's new to him, partly because Lucy is there, and partly because I have Legos there that he gets to play with only at my house. Today was no different--- he wanted to go to my house as soon as I arrived to pick him up, so we loaded him up into his booster seat and started off.

Around the corner from Grandma's, I asked, wanting to make sure he hadn't changed his mind, "You want to go to my house, right?"

"Yep."

As soon as I'd parked, he announced he was staying in the van. I suggested that we go inside the house to get Lucy, and then walk down to the nearby school playground, and he liked that idea... but wanted to wait in the van.

*sigh*

After making sure he understood that he was not to leave the van, which I could see through the open dining room curtains, I went into the house to deposit my backpack and put Lucy into her harness and leash. We fetched Youngest from the van and started walking toward the far end of my street, which dead-ends into the field at the back of the school. He insisted on holding Lucy's leash, and monitored her very well (she was behaving herself like a lady, unlike yesterday, when she'd twice pulled me off-balance when neighborhood cats tempted her too much!), then turned her back over to my charge in order to dash toward the now-visible playground.

After a few detours, including poop-scooping detail for Lucy (thankfully I had a bag in my pocket from Lucy's earlier walk!), we arrived at the playground, and I walked Lucy around while Youngest climbed around on the equipment. He commented that he should have brought his hood, since it was now raining quite noticeably. We found a section which looked like an old-tyme general store counter, and he "sold" me root beer, Sprite, and hamburgers... but insisted he was out of ketchup, mustard and barbecue sauces. *chuckle*

When he tired of that game, he climbed up to the top of the spiral slide and asked me to come up with him. I told him I didn't want to come up there because I was getting wet... and then admitted that I might as well come up anyway, and he agreed. So I walked up the steps to join him at the little roof covering the top of the slide, bending over to look in at him.

"Come in here, Mom!" he invited me.

I tried, but I couldn't bend down far enough to clear the roof... and my right knee was already threatening to give out on me if I tried to kneel, so I had to tell him I couldn't.

"Why not?" His big brown eyes peered up at me earnestly.

"My knee won't let me get down far enough to get in there. It's because I'm getting old. I'm not young like you," I told him honestly.

"Oh." He thought about that for a moment, then followed me back down the steps. As he started off toward the slide at the other end of the structure, he told me, "Well, you need to stop getting old, Mom."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Okay, son. I'll work on that."

Monday, February 13, 2012

Does this make me 'lawful good?' ;)

SIL and I had a talk tonight, after I brought my sons back from our romp in the park. I followed her outside (she was taking their new Yorkie puppies outside to relieve themselves), and I could tell she was sort of anticipating something "bad."

So I guess it was a nice surprise for her when I told her I have problems breaking rules.

0_o

This is new for me, but as I told her, I never thought of myself as being a stickler for rules. (She laughed and visibly relaxed.) And now I'm dealing with the realization that even though she and MIL have told me that I can take the boys for longer visits, or more frequent visits, I'm finding it really difficult to do so!

I told her I'd spoken with Anastasia earlier today about the issue, and Anastasia had told me that she thought I should go along with it, that she wanted me to spend as much time as possible with them.

SIL agreed.

So it looks like tomorrow I'll be picking up my sons when Youngest gets off his schoolbus, and I'll take them on the bus to Skinner's Butte Park, where (hopefully) DD will meet us and spend time with us.

Older Son told me that he wished I'd move next door to them, so that they could see me every day. I told him I wasn't sure that would work out, but that maybe I could see him more often... and he started planning the days out for me.

Now I just need to wrap my head around it!

Saturday, February 11, 2012

Trust...

My counselor suggested the other day that I don't trust him.

That's probably not the exact wording he used, but that's what I got through my thick skull, and it surprised me, even though I told him, "I don't think I trust anyone."

The really odd thing is, this past week I had been considering giving him the URL to my blog here, as well as the URL and password to my private journal (he told me that's not a "blog" since no one else can read it). And for him to say I don't trust him... well, it puzzles me.

Granted, he doesn't know I planned to do that. But I don't know if he's saying that because it's been his experience with other clients of his, or if he honestly believes it.

So now I'm thinking about whether or not I truly trust anyone, as I stated.

I think I do... but why do I think that?

How do I trust people? How do I decide whom I can trust, and why?

I trust Jubee, and I trust Tim. They know just about everything going on in my life. I know that even if they get angry at me, they will get over it and still be my friend. I know that I can ask them for help, and if they are able to do it, they will... and if they can't, they'll tell me up front, and we'll still be friends.

Back up a moment.

I tell them everything. They know about Scott's cheating, his controlling behaviors, his abuse of the kids. They know about my diagnoses, and that I'm a hoarder, and that I have OCD.

But I've told all that to my family and to others who are getting to know me at my knitting group--- in fact, I had a long discussion about it today at my spinning group with Fawn, a newcomer, and JJ, whom I've known since May 2011. I've told my situation to Liz, Tammie, Jo and both Lauras, all of whom I met when I met JJ. I trust them not to turn their backs on me because of my mental issues, even though two friends whom I thought were more tolerant have turned away from me.

Granted, I don't just blurt out my background to every person I meet--- heavens, I don't want to bore anyone! I only mention any of it when I'm asked questions about certain parts of my life, and I don't hold anything back if it's pertinent to their question.

So how am I not trusting people?

The only thing I can think of is that I don't trust people to have my back, so to speak... mostly because I don't think they're capable of helping me. And mostly that's been because the ones upon whom I depended most let me down when I really needed them.

Otherwise, I think I trust people too much.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Dreams...

My dreams have finally become real.

I dreamed that I was riding with friends... and they decided to go to my old house (which, naturally, looked entirely different than in real life). I got out of the van in which we were traveling, and heard Anthony ask where I was.

I freaked.

Backstory:

I don't know why, but I don't want to be around him or his family... at least not for now. It actually makes me seize up, to the point that in real life I can't go to his house to see my daughter, who's his foster daughter.

Yes, you read that correctly--- I even chose him for her foster father. And now I can't bear to be around him.

He's a nice guy. Pretty decent, former best friend of my soon-to-be-ex-husband who dropped Scott like a hot potato after Scott went to prison for sexually abusing the kids. I like him.

So the only reason I can fathom for my current reaction is that I feel shame... shame for my illness, for my hoarding, for my panic attacks and agoraphobia... and the fact that I've seen Anthony avoid me in the grocery store just adds to that shame.

And now it's become part of my dreams.

Anyway, back to the dream:

I heard Anthony say that, and I took off running for cover before he could see me. I went around corners, through hallways, and still he was gaining on me, talking all the while to someone else.

I stumbled upon a bathroom, the only outlet I had left, and even though it was filthy, I went inside and closed the door... or at least I tried to shut it.

The door was off just enough that the bolt couldn't connect with the latch plate and hold shut the door.

Seriously?? What a bathroom!

So I held the door shut, trying to force the bolt into place as Anthony came up and tried to open the door. He didn't sound angry, just his normal conversational voice... and my heart was pounding in fear, in desperation to stay away from him. He started to force the door open...

... and I woke up.

I hate this. I can't even escape in my dreams.

Do me a favor, someone...

Hit me with a clue-by-four, 'kay? Seriously--- upside the head, right now! I'm tired of having others point out things in my own life that I should recognize by now.

(Don't really know if it'll help, but it's worth a shot, right?)

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Scary world out there...

I'm really scared these days.

I'm scared of dealing with other people... but I still do interact with them, at least with my knit/spin group, my caseworker and my counselor. I also go shopping when I need groceries, though I don't make extended trips now. But I don't make many phone calls anymore. I'm okay with texting, e-mail and instant messaging, and I can answer phone calls or the door... I just can't bring myself to initiate it.

But more than that, I'm scared of making mistakes.

Yeah, I know everyone goes through that from time to time, and it doesn't stop me from trying some new things. Heck, I finally washed my first skein of handspun the other day, and I learned to knit entrelac last Thursday.

Trust me--- entrelac is tricky. I made several mistakes, even with a handout with pictures by my side, and I had to rip back to the beginning of my mistake and do it over. But that's not the mistakes I mean.

The mistakes I mean are the type which affect LIFE... and I mean my children's lives.

I am doubting myself more and more these days, because my thoughts are so scattered and random. And I realize that that can't be good for my sons.

Anastasia told me last week that she's going to push for the boys to be placed in what she calls a "durable guardianship," so that I can eventually regain custody of them when I'm mentally able to do so.

And the thought of regaining custody of my sons scares me to death.

I keep looking back at what has happened in our lives together, our past, and I don't know how I can keep myself from making mistakes like those I made in the past. I mean, I don't think I'll make the same ones I made when I chose their sperm donor, naturally, since I don't plan on dating until after Youngest is 18 years old... but what if I can't parent them the way they need to be parented? They have, in effect, five parents in their current home... and there is only me here.

If I screw up, especially when it comes to teaching them to be good men--- I don't know if I can bear that.

This is precisely why, after my daughter was born in 1994, I swore I was not going to have any more children unless I was married--- so that I had help making decisions, providing necessities and guiding our children to growing into strong, healthy adults who would be a benefit to this scary world in which we live.

Not only did I choose poorly where a male was concerned, but I didn't have the strength and integrity to call it quits when he openly demonstrated that he was neither a good husband nor a good role model for our children, just ten months into our marriage. I believed him when he said I wasn't providing enough for him, instead of putting the blame squarely on him, where it belonged.

I know that my sons are behaving much better now that they are on medications to help control their impulses, and that I am taking parenting classes (again) to help me to be a better parent... but I don't see how I was doing it "wrong" the first time. The papers I have from DHS and from court state that I was accused of "chronic neglect" and "lack of supervision..." but I don't know what they mean by that.

Why can't I see that? Is this part of the mental illness from which I'm told I suffer?

This is what I see:

I never left them alone in the house. I never shut them in another room from myself--- unless Older Son went into his room, I was always in the same room as he was... and if Youngest went in with him, then I was there, too, because of the whole issue of "reactive sex abuse" which Older Son had admitted to the summer of 2010. If they went outside to play, then I was there with them. They were not unsupervised.

Youngest slept with me rather than in Older Son's room, again because of the potential of "reactive sex abuse." The previous DHS caseworker knew this because I told her, and she said she approved of it.

They were always fed when they were hungry--- in fact, I often asked if they were hungry, since they didn't always express it. They drank milk, juice and water whenever they wanted, though oddly I had to push them to drink the juice. Strange kids--- just like me! Yes, sometimes we did have soda on hand, but they were only allowed one can per day, so it was something special.

They always had clean clothing and clean beds in which to sleep. No, the floors weren't so clean, but the beds were.

The house was a mess. I won't deny that. But we ate off clean dishes, because I washed them before making meals, even though they went back into the sink afterward.

Other than the house, I don't see what was wrong.

And if I can't see what was wrong back then, then how am I supposed to see it now?

And THAT is what scares me.