March 25th marked one year since my sons were taken away from me by DHS.
Today was court, where all parties involved said, "Yes, we agree with the change in plans for the kids," and the judge makes a note of it for when we go to court to actually put the change into action. (At least, I think that's how my attorney explained it!)
I was stressing out about the day already, so I took an extra 25mg of my Zoloft to help keep me calmer. I was still shaking a bit, but not at all like the last time (I think it helped that there were very few people waiting to be in court today--- perhaps because of Spring Break?).
Things went smoothly, for the most part. Toward the end of the hearing, the kids' attorney asked me to tell the court how our visitation schedules are going where my daughter is concerned, and I had to admit that every time I've made plans to see her, she's canceled it, so I haven't seen her since before New Year's. (Everyone rushed to reassure me that it was "the age," and not to take it personally.) I also told the judge that we do text more frequently, and that DD had sent me a photograph, which the judge requested to see.
I hesitated, then said it was on my cellphone. The judge smiled and said, more or less, "Oh, I know how that is!" My attorney told me to go ahead and fetch the photo from my phone, and then took the phone up to the judge, who smiled at it. I told her, from where I still sat at the table, "She knit that hat herself!"
My attorney then told her that I also do some knitting (I'd shown her the shawl on which I was working that morning), and then the judge really surprised me by saying, "I know Ms. Frey does crafty things--- I see her every year at the Black Sheep Gathering!"
o.0
Wow.
Either I'm really weird, or I'm really memorable in another way. I'm amazed that I've been remembered from a once-yearly event in which I merely pass through as a spectator!
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Friday, March 2, 2012
The next step...
It's coming up on one year since my kids were taken from me by DHS. By that point, the state of Oregon wants a plan in place--- either a "return to home..." or adoption.
Actually, they're being a little more lenient with me--- DHS is suggesting a third option: a durable guardianship.
I'm told that what this means is that I still have a chance to get my sons returned to me (not my daughter, since she has been adamant that she will not return home to me, although she has never explained why).
I know that this is a good thing... but I'm still hesitant, scared, wary.
My SIL will have complete control over my sons. Supposedly I have some say currently... and I will lose that. But I'm told by Anastasia that when I feel I am able to take care of my sons' mental and physical welfare as well as my own, I will be able to go to court to petition that they be returned to my custody.
Somehow, I'm reassured, the court will decide whether or not this is true, and my SIL will have no say in the matter.
But I still am afraid I will never get them back.
Actually, they're being a little more lenient with me--- DHS is suggesting a third option: a durable guardianship.
I'm told that what this means is that I still have a chance to get my sons returned to me (not my daughter, since she has been adamant that she will not return home to me, although she has never explained why).
I know that this is a good thing... but I'm still hesitant, scared, wary.
My SIL will have complete control over my sons. Supposedly I have some say currently... and I will lose that. But I'm told by Anastasia that when I feel I am able to take care of my sons' mental and physical welfare as well as my own, I will be able to go to court to petition that they be returned to my custody.
Somehow, I'm reassured, the court will decide whether or not this is true, and my SIL will have no say in the matter.
But I still am afraid I will never get them back.
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."
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!
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.
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.
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?)
(Don't really know if it'll help, but it's worth a shot, right?)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
