This year…

This year has been the hardest yet.

This year I have gone back to work.

This year Little has started school, and all her needs, that we were just about managing with me being mostly at home with her, rose right up to the surface.

This year, the girls’ Headteacher gave me a memory stick of photos from the Christmas show as the girls wouldn’t be on the CD they were giving out.

This year, Little had grommets in and her adenoids out. A very routine operation but it was hugely triggering for her.

This year, our PASW and our senior social worker told me that it was my fault we were experiencing the difficulties we are experiencing.

This year, we paid for a private OT to do an assessment for the girls and Little has had 3 sessions with her. Seeing everything (and more) written down on paper, that I have been trying to tell people for two years was hard but I’m glad we did it.

This year (in the last 6 weeks), Little has slept through for most of the week!

This year, Big swam 20m.

This year, we had a meeting to ask us what we needed in terms of support. We told them, they took away what they were currently doing and told us they couldn’t do anything else.

This year, something happened that, in my head, had always been the thing that I said I wouldn’t be able to manage. I’m not saying I managed it, but I found a way through it.

This year, my husband and I had to move out of our bedroom and move into the living room. (Our PASW told us ‘the event didn’t happen but we’re telling you that the girls need to be kept separate or supervised at all times.)

This year, my husband, the most calm, patient, laid back man in the world, got cross. Cross at the lack of support, cross at having to fight so hard, cross at constantly feeling like we were asking for the world.

This year I began to wonder if we’re going to be able to do this.

This year the violence increased so much.

This year, I did my food shopping on Christmas Eve in the same place and at the same time as the girls’ birth mum. I found my thoughts jumping between, ‘I’m glad she’s got some whole milk in her trolley,’ to ‘I’m glad she’s got a yule log in there, she’s got something nice to eat,’ to ‘I wish she wasn’t living here, I really wish she would move somewhere else again.’

This year, Big didn’t get invited to any parties.

This year, we’ve been in the woods a lot. We’ve been at the beach a lot.

This year, I realised that this is how things are. I’ve not totally given up on the hope that things might get a bit better. But I know that this is the life we’re living. Little will always need a lot of help and Big will always need A LOT of help.

This year has felt very isolating.

This year has been the hardest yet.

This year is nearly done. I have no idea what next year will bring. Maybe I’ll write a similar post next year, maybe it’ll be a post full of joy. Maybe we’ll be in a similar place, maybe it’ll be totally different. Whatever happens, I’m sure we’ll still be in the woods and at the beach a lot. That’s not going to change.




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