My level of anxiety is through the roof.
And don't get me wrong - this is NOT because I think these kids are somehow "mine". This simply isn't the same as when we intervened with Dude and Dolly. I honestly feel in my heart that if I knew they were going to be safe (and yes...safe is what I've boiled this whole thing down to) I wouldn't be so damned upset.
But I don't believe that Russell will be safe if he goes home.
Add to that...
- 2 science fair projects (one of which was forgotten until there was only 1 day in which to do said project)
- an investigation on my home (TT is going to be pulled at school today to be interviewed - please say an extra prayer for him)
- my job (I've been super busy lately)
- all of Russell's appointments with specialists (He came in April. Most appointments were made in June. That means all his 6 month follow ups happen in January.)
- emotional teenaged crap with Herman
- SERIOUSLY stressful crap going on with my husband at his job (like national security level kinds of stress)
- plus life in general with a family of seven
My chest hurts. Literal physical pain. My thinking is foggy. I'm running on auto pilot. I don't want to eat. When I do eat, I don't want to eat the foods that are good for me. I'm drinking too much caffeine. I feel sick. Every time I stop moving, my brain starts swirling and I get fixated on something I should be doing or something that is completely out of my control.
I don't post this to get a bunch of comments telling me people feel sorry for me.
I'm not posting this to drum up drama of any kind.
But I know others have felt like this before. And anyone thinking about doing foster care needs to know this can be reality.
It's a cycle for me. I'm fine. I'm rockin' it. I get worried. I get overwhelmed. I think I can't go on. I accept the new reality. I move forward. I'm fine. I'm rockin' it.
Lately, it just seems my peaks have been higher. Which means this low seems all that much lower.
I know I will climb back up. It won't be like this forever. I have faith. (Bopper keeps telling me to have faith. Over and over. Faith she says. Give it to God.)
I've got faith. Honest. I do. I believe that God can work miracles.
I'm praying that whatever happens, these two children will stay safe. (And for that matter...their big sister too.)
When I foster, I FULLY invest in each child. Whether they're in my home for 24 hours or over 2 years, I throw myself all the way in.
I believe that's the way it's supposed to be. That's the way it has to be.
My chest hurts right now because of anxiety.
But can you imagine how Russell felt with multiple broken bones and no medical treatment?! No pain meds. No casts to help him heal. No regular food intake. He was isolated in his pack-n-play covered, literally, in a layer of black filth all alone.
He had it so much worse than me.
The least I can do is throw myself fully into his life. I love him like he's my own knowing full well that he is not. I have to be OK with that.
And honest. I am OK. This is what I signed up for.
My pain will never be as great as the pain he felt that brought him to me.
I don't believe that Star was ever abused outright. In fact, I'm not convinced she ever would be abused if she went home. (In my heart I think Russell was hurt only because he has Down syndrome.) But for now, she has lost her entire family. She lost everything too. Yes, she loves me. She's comfortable in our home. She wants to be with me. But she lost her family and that is horribly sad. Foster care is a huge loss to every child that enters in to Care.
So please don't feel sorry for me. I just write this so others know they aren't alone.