Am I Still Ill?

Hello peeps. I woke up feeling pretty low this morning. I heard somewhere that sleep tends to leave you feeling more depressed. It’s a diurnal thing. Anyway, once I was up I felt better as I always do, though still a bit frustrated regarding some developments yesterday.

While I was at my friend M’s in the afternoon I heard from my son J’s social worker. There is an important meeting regarding my son this Friday. And I will only be able to attend it if J agrees. I have a feeling he will not agree, as I am still persona non grata since the last time I saw him, when we had a massive row at my place culminating in my calling the police who delivered him back to the Social Services, who then returned him to the foster placement in Kent.

When my Mum dies (she is 80 now) I will basically be all my son has got. I fear that Social Services won’t be seen for dust after he turns 18. Who is going to have to pick up the bits then? I will, as always, be left holding the baby. And in terms of his living skills and general attitude, J is basically still a baby. At this rate he will be totally unable to live independently.

As you can probably gather, I feel angry – toward Social Services, toward my son and to the whole sorry situation. I expect some of you are thinking, well you can’t really blame your son for the poor parenting you have given him. But I will then say, he has had many advantages that other kids in care didn’t have, including family who remained involved, loving and concerned throughout. We never missed a contact, which took place every two months. I doubt that all kids in care are isolating themselves in a room and totally refusing to engage with their education and future, or failing that, assessment for mental health problems and some form of treatment.

I would understand it if you felt sorry for him. I did the same until I saw the way he behaved for the sixteen months that he spent, first with me, then with my mother. I’m afraid I am now compassion-fatigued as regards my son. He seems sublimely unaware of the heartache and worry he is causing us by his behaviour. I was triggered into a sixteen-month depression when I saw the state he was in. It is never far from my mind, though I do all I can to remain positive and distract myself from his problems.

I’m also annoyed that Social Services only let me know yesterday that this important meeting at the foster carer’s was taking place this week. I spoke to my Mum this morning, and she hadn’t been told at all.

I never chose this. This is by far the worst and most serious thing that has happened to me as a result of my mental health problems. My own life is hard enough to cope with. I’ve had to take sole responsibility for a child as well, a child who now has significant problems that are impacting on everyone around him. The ‘sperm-donor’ excuse for a father was happy enough to have unprotected sex with me (once) while I was psychotic, vulnerable and supposedly being cared for in hospital. Not happy though to step up to any of his responsibilities regarding the consequences of his actions. Ill as I was, I clearly remember asking him to use protection, but he refused. Any men reading this, just be grateful that you are not a woman before you start identifying with my son and feeling sorry for him.

What am I really angry with though? I’m angry at life itself I guess, at the hand of cards I’ve been dealt. Please try not to judge me dear reader. I can bear my share of the responsibility but it can’t and shouldn’t all devolve on me.

Zoe