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.