But so far none of them have fallen out.
I really don’t want to talk about what’s been happening over the last couple of months but I can’t really avoid it indefinitely. I do want to be a writer and a writer writes.
My children no longer life in my house and I don’t know when they’re going to be coming back. They are actually supposed to be in Foster Care since the Social Work Department of Aberdeen City Council have decided that they’re being neglected at home and that my Mother is not doing a good enough job of setting boundaries for them. But of course that plan would rely on the Cooncil having enough money to put them in Foster Care and they don’t. So my children are staying with my Mum out in the country side.
This is far from ideal as they are supposed to be going to school in the city but neither me nor my Mum has a car and they Cooncil doesn’t have enough money for taxis every day. They have enough money for three taxis. Tuesday and Thursday morning and Thursday afternoon.
That’s bad enough but the Social Workers are so overworked, under-resourced or incompetent (I haven’t worked out which yet) that they are incapable of booking a taxi even given two warnings and a week to do it in. It’s like dealing with the NHS only far, far worse. They seem happy enough to tell us that we’re dong something wrong but they wont tell us exactly what it is or how to do it better. Every week I phone them several times and ask them what I can be doing to get my children back and the answer always seems to be some variation of sitting around waiting for them to do what their payed to do.
It’s like being in hell. So like it that I’ve started dreaming that I’m in hell. When I’m not dreaming that I’m in hell I dream that I’m trying to save my family from a Tsunami. Sometimes I don’t remember my dreams but they make me really angry at my husband. So angry that I wake up to find myself elbowing him the ribs but unable to remember why.
I’m not getting a lot of sleep.