Anxiety is pretty high at the moment. It hasn’t been the easiest Christmas/ New Year period. I feel like I’m on watch all the time- waiting for the next behaviour ‘explosion’.
Thankfully I have had some time and space just to be, and recuperate and rest. I find it really hard to turn off my brain. I even find myself thinking about my thinking; analysing in an attempt to find some reason and logic.
Everyone tells me I’m doing a good job. The hard work now will pay off in the end. I get that this is trauma and that her behaviour is the only way to let us know what’s going on. I don’t want someone to pat me on the back and say ‘well done’, because I’m not doing this for the accolades.
What I do need is someone or something to help me deal with the huge grief I feel; the anger when all I want is for this all to stop; the hopeless feeling that I can’t do this anymore. Stopping is not an option- neither is giving up. I’m committed for the long term.
I’ve been trying some mindfulness breathing exercises with mixed success- I do know that they are something that needs practice. 15 minutes ago I was in tears and the breathing did help me to calm down. It somehow just feels though that I’m just pushing it all back down and not dealing with it. The grief is still there, trying to push its way back up, needing acknowledgement and healing.
I’ve been pretty lucky in my foster parenting journey. Most behaviour issues have been school related and home has been a safe place. And while this year has been hard, I have always had the solace that home was safe for her and easier for me.
Something has happened lately…. I wish I knew what was going on. I know in my head that the anger is not directed at me per se, but that I am a ‘safe’ person for her to take it all out on, to push away before she gets hurt again. Knowing this doesn’t help though when you are in the middle of enforcing boundaries, or looking for her when she has run away.
I don’t know what it feels like to not be able to live with my birth family. I was blessed to grow up in a loving family who cared and nurtured me, supported my dreams and allowed me to fly and be me. So I get that I could not possibly ever know the excitement she feels when she’s going to see a sibling she hasn’t seen in a long time, or the pain she feels at having to say goodbye. I don’t know what it’s like to see my mum monthly for an hour in the presence of another ‘safe’ adult.
Tonight I am frustrated, and things have probably only just started to get bad. Conceivably, things are going to get a lot worse before it gets better. And I question myself- did I say the right thing? What should I have done better? Should I say yes to everything she asks for because she’s had everything else taken away in her life?
And then there’s the stuff underneath that l feel about me- why am I not enough? I try so hard and I willingly give so much of me to her, but I’m never enough. But I also know that I probably won’t ever be enough. It doesn’t stop me wanting to be enough though.
I know I can’t save her, but my heart still wants to. And in the end, it’s not about me anyway…
Why are we so afraid to show that we are hurting… that we don’t have it all together… that we feel sad, tired or overwhelmed?
Why do I have to be in control all the time?
What’s so wrong with sitting with and acknowledging that I am sad instead of stuffing it back down inside me?
Right now I don’t know how we’re going to get through this next term of school. I am weary before we even start.
I want to run away from it all, or hide and sleep.
So instead I am going to acknowledge the weariness, my anxiety and my sadness. I’m going to sit with it, embrace it… do with it what it needs. And be
Totally frustrated and over it all tonight. I’m sick of this ditsy blond person I have been, losing things, not thinking straight, dropping stuff.
The house is a total mess. The piles of stuff loom at me, the clutter keeps me on edge and I just don’t ever seem to be able to get on top of things.
Today I read this:
I hate that I’m on medication for my anxiety, but I find that it helps. When I accidentally miss a dose though, I get messy withdrawal symptoms. Even though I have had it today, I’m still all over the place. I hate being in this place. I hate being disorganised. I hate that I’m losing things and doing silly things.
Just overwhelmed by it all.
So no Miss M now till Sunday week… a mixture of tiredness and relief… yet…
I’ve just eaten enough for 2-3 people. Ordered takeaway- feeling ill from all the fat and grease. Self inflicted. Feeling sorry for myself.
self aware… yet I still did it
Have been back home for 2 days after spending a wonderful 11 days in Victor Harbor- back to reality and it’s all starting to feel overwhelming. How am I going to get it all done? Will there be money in my account when the mortgage and electricity bill is due? Can I get Miss M into the school my heart and head is telling me she needs to go to? Will the Dept fund it? How many jumps and hoops will we have to navigate for it all to happen?
It churns round and round my head, my stomach. I’m not always aware of it till I realise just how tense I am holding my body, or how tired I feel, or how much I am eating.
I want to live the life of faith. I truly believe that God has said that He will provide and that the bills will not go unpaid. I can’t see a way at the moment for any of this to happen- but I guess that’s what faith is… stepping into the unknown holding the hand of the Saviour.