I lost my ability to trust. It began when I realized that I could not count on the reality around me.
I am still at a loss trying to make sense of the past few weeks. I was calm, concise and honest about what had happened to son #2 – though I have been burning up inside over it. I never once made a horrible accusation about his father – I repeated over and over again – this is not possible, I just want answers. Though I had tried to wait for CPS to do something, I just couldn’t and I reached out to the police and the child sex abuse clinic. I know this really gets CPS angry – but you know what causes more anger? – people who look the other way, pass the buck , squirm out of responsibility for a variety of never-sufficient-enough reasons.
I am furious that CPS tried to portray me to the Child Abuse Clinic as a vindictive ex wife.
I am grateful that the Child Sex Abuse Clinic portrayed me as a concerned parent who did NOT make any specific accusations against anyone – but clearly expressed her concerns that it would be unequivocal that son #2 could have performed this act without prompting.
I am sad for all the parents who didn’t get answers.
I am grateful for the friends who pushed (gently) me to carry on and not give up.
I am sad for all the kids and adults who are vulnerable and have no one to advocate for them.
I am grateful for the one person who listened to me – who could make a difference in the life of our sons.
Tonight I think of “D” – a non verbal adult who was admitted to inpatient psychiatric at the hospital where I did an internship. He was brought in for treatment because he reportedly had become violent and out of control at his group home.
We would never get the full story. The only story we could see were old scars and bruises and cauliflower ears. “D” had been hurt by someone and he didn’t have the language to point out his accuser. His parents, I imagined were long dead. He was a ward of the state, relying on strangers for his care. I watched him walking through the unit, a sweet smile on his face. When given his treatment plan he would sign his name with a shaky hand. He couldn’t read and he never spoke a word. With all the comings and goings of the unit, “D” didn’t have a single violent incident while he was in the hospital. I wondered what had happened at his group home to make him become so angry that he would be violent. We called the institutional abuse hotline and reported our concerns, but that was it – we relied on the system to take care of him. I can still see his pure, earnest brown eyes and I wonder where and how he is tonight.
I almost backed off trying to get answers for son #2. I thought of the women I knew who have lost custody of their children when they pushed CPS. I KNOW of families broken up by CPS because they ticked off the worker and I was so scared of that happening to me. I still am petrified of the thought of losing the boys.
What scares me most though, is the strange, unhealthy behavior that they have been exposed to and I am going to do my best to get some answers and more importantly some resolution.
Tonight is bittersweet, because I know the games will continue and this is just one small victory for me – at the cost of son being exposed to something he should not have been. Yes, it is very bittersweet.