Still here

Wednesday afternoon. Other than telling you - yet again - how stressed and busy I am, I really have nothing to report. Alcott, the social worker, and I had a lovely conversation yesterday by the end of which he had his arms, nose, and mouth all pulled inside his t-shirt and was not talking. I can't go into the details except to say that I had to turn away several times because I was on the verge of tears. I went through 36 hours of training, stood in line at the DMV for my driving record printout, got finger printed with the California Department of Justice and the FBI, and now I'm making a 14-year-old utterly miserable. How swell!

Tonight is my first night "off" this week and I'm undecided about whether I ought to be productive - clean the house, do some laundry, etc - or just collapse on the sofa in a fetal position after eating enough food to make me stop thinking and feeling. I cried on the phone with TCB last night, not because of anything he'd said or done, just because of my sheer mental and emotional exhaustion and frustration.

I used to decry my lack of social life, worry about the fact that I wasn't making a difference and that my passing (when it happened) wouldn't be remarkable at all except for the fact that so few people were impacted. Be careful what you wish for, my friends. I am responsible for one fragile little boy's future...and the weight of that knowledge has kept me from finding respite from my worries for at least the last week. Even when I'm sleeping. Even when I'm with TCB and the kittens. Even when I'm bingeing. (Even when I'm not.)

How is it fair that this fabulous kid - straight A's, a natural leader by example, athletically gifted, kind, articulate, soft-hearted - is in such a sucky system? Why can't I wave a wand and fix everything so that he never has to feel any pain again? Why do we have to have conversations that leave him decimated and feeling hopeless about himself and his situation? His pain is more than I can bear, but bear it I must. I'm his CASA and that's my job. Even when I don't want to. Even when I'm not strong enough. Even when there's no one that fully understands how hard this is. Even when it makes me cry at my desk in the middle of the afternoon. He is my boy and I am his CASA and we will pull through this, together.

And I wonder why I try to eat away my stress!


Anonymous said…
If only we could fix everything the world would be so much better for them. Sadly we can't. :(

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