Can't shake this.
I'm trying. It's not as if I go "oh, it February -- must be depressed."
I go -- "Man, I feel different. It's really bad. What's wrong?" Then I remember, oh yeah, it's Feb.
A friend has a birthday party and I don't want to go.
I want to wallow.
no, I don't want to wallow. I want to do anything and everything possible not to feel like this, but I don't want to have to do anything.
We had 8 hours of training again today. I have never wanted to stab myself in the eye with my own pen so badly. I can't sit in a room for 8 hours anymore.
The leader knows my Mariah, the first kid I worked with. I mentioned her, and she said "I was her very first foster mommy. I was there when __________*insert a detail of horrible abuse here that identifies her by the physical markings it left*" The woman said she wanted to keep her. I felt ill. My Mariah could have been "saved" then. Had she gotten more than 2 hours of staffing per day, Maria wouldn't be in the condition she was in when I saw her.
One day, someone needs to answer for what was done to her. What happened is that as M. grew, she was harder and harder to take care of and bounced from home to home to home. People say over and over that she is the most severely autistic person that they have ever known. Add abuse and instability -- man --
I've always seen this as a "shit happens" case. But to know that she could have been happy and healthy and living with my supervisor had she had just a little more support -- that agency is evil. They justify it, say that take kids no one else will take, like the dual diagnosis kids, etc. No one else CAN take these kids once they have been through this agency.
Community and home based waiver is failing.
Institutions aren't the answer.
Arkansas has something like 16000 people in their institutions that costs the state 600-900 dollars a day.Waiver caps out at $160 a day. And they wonder why there is no staff for waiver. Our institutions (illegal under Olmsted!) suck our resources.
Driving home, I was just so angry... my little guy screaming all night and smearing shit because his tooth hurts.
The boys in the detention center, snoring and screaming in their sleep. My Mariah, locked in her house, her plan calling for institutionalization and 23 hour a day restraints. My Kayla, shipped away. My Angela, in her home in my hometown, wondering where her mommy is. I can't do it sometimes, I can't be part of this system any more...
When the mom of this one girl I work with talks on and on about how hard she has it, I just want to cry "you have no idea."
I can't take this on for them anymore.
But they can't take it on themselves....
But I'm tired and I'm frustrated and I'm sick of caring. Why does it matter if the 12 year old learns to make his bed if his next staff doesn't care? Why did I work so hard on toilet training Angela if she went back to diapers when I left? I'm about to give up.