The Teacher Is Not Your Ally

Today’s story of incredible persistence and resilience in the face of overwhelming challenges –

I was rescued from deadly abuse and trafficking as a child. I was fostered, adopted out, but soon after my parents both died. I got pregnant during my downspiral and ended up raising my premature son alone in a shelter for years until I aged out. I’ve spent my entire life giving him everything he deserved and loving him so much more purely than I ever knew. Now we could be torn apart.

A 51A (Investigation of Child Abuse and/or Neglect) was filed by my son’s teacher. Despite the fact he’s a happy and popular kid, is on a waitlist for therapy, that he has consistent check-ins for his medication and ADHD, that I’m constantly in contact with his school and counsellor regarding his progress and his absent work…

His mental health has been great and he simply just wants to goof off with his friends instead of reading Shakespeare. She might have been insulted I didn’t remember to reply to another “How can I motivate your teenager in my classroom?” she sent on Monday, but I had spoken to my son about the email and had informed him to start staying after twice a week again like she had requested.

So she.. reports me to the Division of Children and Families?

I have been so overwhelmed tending to the needs of my two other children who have chronic medical needs and are in and out of hospital frequently.. but I never let a single ball drop. I made every appointment, I pushed for all these resources for my children, I’m keeping up with all of these communications and advocating for my child. I thought I was truly doing everything I could for my son and he says himself that he’s been happy, just.. doesn’t care about English class. I can’t breathe – what is going to happen to my family? How do I disprove a claim that is so.. vague??

The social worker already called back to confirm they’re going to move forward with the investigation. My youngest is autistic, entirely nonverbal, and has type 1 diabetes. I’ve been sobbing all night trying to imagine her in a foster home… please someone give me some advice. I fought my whole life to keep my baby safe. How am I losing them now?

Some solid advice came back –

Do you have a support system? Don’t assume you will lose them. It’s an investigation. Breathe. Get your home in order. Clean to the max. Make sure food is always in fridge. Make sure no chemicals or otc drugs are in reach. Lock it all up. Print copies of all your communications with the school and medical personnel and any organization where you were pushing for resources and keep in a binder for easy reference. Ask the doctors for all the children’s medical records NOW to show they have been seen consistently. Make notes of your conversations with your son so you don’t forget things in the moment when they are asking questions and it’s nerve racking. Keep all of this documentation organized and easily reachable at a moments notice and do it before they come back. 

I agree with this little rant from someone else – All of this stress added to her already loaded plate caring for her kids with medical needs. All this extra stress, worry and basically trauma they are putting on her is so uncalled for. I understand that DCF has to investigate claims, but the system is honestly so disastrous, it’s rarely genuinely helpful to kids/families and doing this to families that don’t need any intervention at all is just cruel.

Feelings Of Rejection

Feelings of rejection may be one of the most common impacts for any person who was adopted. Today’s story breaks my heart . . .

It’s never going to stop. These feelings of rejection are going to be part of my life forever. I have worked so hard in therapy these past 5 years to learn all the coping skills and most of the time they have worked.

Today, not so much. I am sitting here with tears running down my face for the stupidest reasons. The irrational thoughts of rejection in my head triggered by conversations that anyone else would consider completely normal, logical and with no ill intent. I can type that, I can say it out loud, but my brain cannot stop these feelings of being rejected. It’s a freight train out of control.

This is the life adoption created for me and no amount of therapy or positive reunion or being the administer of a group that allows me to speak freely is going to change the fact that a simple statement telling me not to come to my adoptive brother’s on Christmas Eve in the middle of Covid but learning that all my nieces and nephews and my adoptive mother will be there, set’s off a chain reaction of feeling personal rejection.

We are in a pandemic, my adoptive mom goes there weekly anyway, my nieces and nephews are their children. It makes logical sense they would/could be there. Yet the second my adoptive mom told me she was going there and I told her we were not asked to come, I instantly had to put on my sunglasses and hide my eyes. Hide the tears that were forming quickly.

I desperately want to avoid being irrational, but the chain reaction starts. My husband’s phone dings and I wonder who is texting him. I have no reason to be concerned, yet I can’t help it in this moment. My adoptive mom mentions my out of state niece sent a big batch of cookies to my adoptive brother. I sit and wonder why him and not me.

Cookies…..text messages…..keeping distance during a pandemic…..anyone would consider all that innocuous. I should too. There are real issues going on in this world. There are people that don’t have family, there are people that are struggling. I try hard to get it in check, to move past it. Then I walk my adoptive mom to the door and she says “Don’t worry so much about things. You worry too much” and the tears start up again.

I’ve been told this all my life and I want to scream back at her and say do you think I WANT to be like this? To let these inconsequential things set me off at 55 years old, stupid shit that should be irrelevant? I don’t, because in this moment, my brain cannot make my mouth do that. The risk is too great. I just weakly smile and walk away.

They will never understand. Not my adoptive family, not my natural family. They will never understand that I CANNOT control this. Our brains are not wired like everyone else’s and this is the result. Me…..crying over a gathering during covid, cookies and text messages…..SIGH….tell me again how much adoption rocks. I could not hate myself more right now, for not being able to avoid this spiral over nonsense.