Wow! Maggots...now that is cheery.

It terrifies me to think about the unintentional damage that can be done to a kid. I know that my parents never set out to cause the hurts that we felt as kids and which we still live with. And I know for damn sure that I never meant to hurt my kids.

How is it that people who start out with such good intentions and so much love in their hearts can go so wrong and hurt so many people? My kids were (are, even though they are not with me) my life...my heart... I would have died...cut my own throat before causing them one ounce of unnecessary pain. And yet, because I was messed up in my head I let it happen.

That is my biggest pain I think...I try to look back on the past with forgiving eyes. I have a very clear memory of how chaotic it all was...how insane.

I remember the first time I was told I had PTSD. I was trying to explain my feelings to my state appointed therapist, trying to figure out how, when I loved my kids as much as I did (and I was a good mom...even the shrink and the caseworkers thought so) I could let things get that out of hand. I knew that things were bad and that my kids were suffering because of it...and yet I felt completely powerless to stop it. She looked at me and said "well, that's because you have PTSD" like that was supposed to make some giant light bulb go off in my head or something.

Now she was a good woman and a good therapist. She really wanted to see me get my kids home and for things to be better for us. But what she never explained (and I was to messed up still to ask or search for the answers) was what it really did to me.

Sometimes I think that if she had just expained it then maybe things would have turned out a little different. I have no way of knowing for sure but what I do know is that I worked my butt off to get them home. I fought tooth and nail. Did everything the state asked and then some. But the whole time I was doing it I was I was battling full blown PTSD. Kept it together really well actually...they never saw me cry (actually that comment was made after I gave them up and I completely broke down in front of them), I was at every appointment, did extra parenting classes, went to DV classes...you name it I did it.

But I could never understand the fear, the feeling of being pulled in two directions and never being able to trust anyone. There are so many things I could have said...if I had just told the shrink I was his payee she could have helped me get out of it and would have...but I was too afraid. The state had my kids and Mike had me...felt like the wishbone from a thanksgiving turkey. I went meekly along tryng to apease everybody because I was afraid....

The thrapist said one time that I was ambivalent about bringing my kids back...hell no I wasn't. Would have cut my right arm off and given it to the judge on a silver platter. But I was afraid of being weak...afraid of letting them see how desperate I really was.