A Bit Surreal

So Cheyann came home for Thanksgiving for the first time in almost three and a half years. It was all a bit surreal. In hindsight I'm grateful I was busy with all of the activities that come along with hosting such an event because the whole situation just felt odd. Cheyann was low-key and subdued. At first she felt overwhelmed because there were too many family members and then she was uncomfortable because it was too quiet when they all went home. She went outside a lot and continued to ask to take a walk. For whatever reason I asked her not to go out alone. She is 18. I'm not sure where that discomfort came from but it was real. We did manage to play some games and she was able to collect some of her belongings that had been in storage and then chatted quietly with her sister but honestly we were all relieved when her ride came to collect her. I don't know what I was expecting...

Made For TV Movie

I feel like I’m living a “made-for-tv movie.” You know that fear we all have about what might happen someday when our adopted kiddos get older? It’s really happening!! Lynn ran away from home on Friday and ended up at the home of her bio mom with whom she has been in increasingly greater contact over the last few years. Bio mom is still a mess according to her own biological relatives, who have been blowing up my phone all weekend to tell me AD is not in a good place. But in the meantime she continues to refuse to come home and although Bio mom is making some kind of effort to keep in contact with me it is becoming increasingly clear that she is not being honest about her intentions. Yes- I’ve contacted all the “authorities, and yes it’s all being documented but what a nightmare. 😧

Vicarious Trauma

I have been reading the book Tribe lately and scarily relating all too well. How sad is it that the role of foster/adoptive parent feels similar to that of a war veteran?!? The "hits" we take on a regular basis that cut to our very souls. The hypervigilance - just waiting for the next shoe to fall. The sense of despondency and the chronic fear that our children are just never going to make it through. And that sense of just being so tired. I am tired. This journey is exhausting.