Feeling pretty good

So, this morning, Donald met with yet another social worker, this one doing an intake assessment. I am really impressed with him that he takes all these visits in stride. He is willing to blindly trust these adults with the drakest part of his life simply because they suggest he should. I was in awe of him… first because he was able to sit in his chair (albeit wiggly and fidgeting) for 45 minutes but mostly because he was able to answer some really tough questions about his past and about how he deals with it on a day to day basis. For the most part, he was dead on it the way I would describe him. Seeing that he understands his own hatred of life made me feel all the sadder for him. No child should have to have endured what he has and while he has some behaviors that make him tough to live with, it really isnt his fault. I need to remind myself of that more often.

This afternoon, we met with 2 more social workers (the ongoing ones that he is going to really need to get used to). I was terrified to see his reaction to us telling him he is going on a respite weekend. There is a part of me that feels bad for allowing this happen to so soon, but there is another part of me that knows that part of  what got us all through this week was knowing that he is going and knowing there is a break in sight. He took it fairly well at first. He seemed nervous but excited. And then he started copying his sister. They went back and forth to the point I wanted to scream. And then he came over and held his fist to her while she sat on my lap. Ugh. WHY? Why did he have to be treated that way? And why does he need to pass it on? Anyway, after he hit her in the head (not hard, just to make a point, I think), she decided to go in another room and we were able to redirect him. I think the social workers think that we are always able to redirect him so easily. Not true. That was his “best behavior” because they were there and he doesn’t know them that well.

I was supposed to also tell him about being moved off the regular bus and being transported by the “little bus” but I was too stressed to actually follow through so I guess thats a conversation for tomorrow. Its hard for me to imagine him taking that well even though he complains all the time about how noisy the regular bus is.

Tonight, I am focused on feeling grateful for the few smiles we have seen, the great big hugs he gives and the hope that the future will be brighter than the dark days of the past week.

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