Suspicions

When you find out that a child in your care has been abused, even in a minor way, you instantly start to suspect everyone around you.  You look at everyone wondering, « is it you ».

You start first by evaluating those who are near enough to have done the deed, yet far enough away that you can bear the thought that they may be someone who would hurt a child.  Once those people are eliminated, you move your suspicions slowly and slowly closer.  You judge them while at the same time hoping you are wrong. The closer you get, the more scared you are that you are to blame for not seeing the potential danger.

It is so much easier to believe that it was an acquaintance, than to suspect someone you yourself love and trust.  Even though I am no stranger to the concept of the monster within the family, the thought that there was another, one that I didn’t already know about, and worse, one that I didn’t recognize and never suspected, nearly drove me crazy.

This is what we went through recently, the suspicion, the blaming ourselves.  The answer was both reassuring and horrifying at the same time…it was another child.  A child who had no idea that what they did was wrong, who never wanted to hurt the other child, but will one day learn that they may have done serious psychological damage.

How do you make sure that the child who abused knows what they did was wrong and that they should never ever do that again, without making them feel like a monster?  How do you protect the victim all the while still encouraging them to have a relationship with the other child, because that is the best way for everything to move on?  How do you go on trying to keep everything as normal as possible while maintaining a constant vigilance so it never happens again?  How do you keep from scrutinizing everything that happens from that moment on?

If we figure it out, I’ll let you know

So…How are things?

Wow, it’s been a while hasn’t it.  I know, I know, I really suck at keeping in touch, but as usual, a whole crapload of stuff kinda put me in basic survival mode, and alas, this blog is still an optional thing at the moment.

Right after we found the new apartment, I learned that my job was changing offices too, at the same time as the other move.  So then I had not one, but two moves to plan and execute.  Then I took on another job (temporary to help someone out), so there was that.  Add in a minor car accident, and some pretty heavy family drama, and needless to say, I was exhausted. 

Everything worked out of course, the heavy family drama, while pretty crappy to go through, ended up helping my BF, his ex (the kids’ mom) and I reach a new level of being able to work together.  The new apartment is fabulous, though there was 3 times as much painting and work to do than we thought (area rugs and furniture covered a multitude of sins when we visited apparently.) but we worked hard and everything is almost done.

The car accident was a minor fender bender which still had me on pain meds and restricted movement for about a month, and the 2^nd job is over.

So here I am, back to normal (or as normal as I can be) with one job, in a fancy new office, a new apartment with room for everyone, and a body that is 90% functional.

I must admit though, there were a few rough patches, and I wasn’t always so sure that we would make it through.  My BF and I are pretty strong, but when almost every single possible outside force it pushing against you, cracks appear and things start to leak. 

At one point, there was so much going on that my sister in law actually told me that a sane person would have just run for the hills, but that lucky for them, I’m not all that saneJ.