Showing posts from January, 2017


My life is ruled by fear at the moment. It's pervasive; it affects everything.

I got bitten this morning, because of it. Because Tickle was throwing stuff around, and I grabbed his arm from behind and surprised him, and he thought I was going to hurt him. He bit me on instinct, pure self-preservation.

Afterwards he was completely freaked out. If I'd thought about it, I would have expected him to go loopy, or need restraining, but he didn't. He was really shocked at himself. He kept trying to explain what had happened, but not quite having the right words; asking to look at the bite mark on my arm, rubbing and kissing it better. He said sorry without being asked. He was on the verge of tears.

Last night Tickle was able to articulate what we've known for a long time. He's scared of going to sleep because he thinks someone will come in and hurt him. He is terrified that his birth father will come to our house; it doesn't matter how many times I tell him that he do…

News from Court

So many things have happened in the last two weeks I could pretty much write a blog post for every day. We've had two professionals meetings, two CAMHS appointments, a visit from two social workers, a police interview, a hospital appointment, and a court hearing.

From all of that, it's the court hearing that's left me reeling - even though that's the one that we didn't attend in person.

It's been three months or so since our original court hearing that was adjourned. Initially, Social Services were very supportive. We had a meeting to outline the support we felt we needed - we gave them our 'if we had a magic wand' wish list, but were heartened to hear from Tickle's Social Worker that it all sounded pretty reasonable, actually, and she couldn't see any particular problems.

That attitude lasted a matter of days. Suddenly there seemed to be a shift, and although nothing was said directly to us, our Social Worker grew more worried as she reported t…

It's getting difficult again

Today Husband was woken at 2.30 by Tickle. He managed a couple of hours doze on his bedroom floor before T decides to wake the whole house up by banging the wall and screaming - all before 5am. Husband did a fantastic job of calming him down, and I managed to doze until sixish. Love that man.

While Husband was in the shower, T and I had a long chat. He told me he was scared of a kid at school. I told him I knew that he was scared of this child, but I also knew he was much more scared about some other things, and I thought that sometimes it's much easier to pretend that the child is all he's scared about because the other things just *so* big and scary.

It took some time, but Tickle eventually agreed, and we had a chat about his big scary feelings. He was able to articulate things a bit better than last time; each time we talk I get an extra glimmer of understanding, another piece of the puzzle.

I told him we would keep him safe, that these things will never happen again. "…

The Power of a Label

I was chatting to Fairy's headteacher the other day, updating her on all the various agencies and their progress, and remarked that (hopefully) it will be a little less complex once we have adopted Tickle - as at least then we are not constrained by Social Services and can make more decisions for ourselves. I said we could probably even set up a Team Around the Family (you may remember we have been refused this a couple of times, for different reasons), half expecting her to say we wouldn't need it once the adoption had gone through.

"Absolutely." She said. "We definitely need one. Fairy is a Young Carer!"

It struck me in that moment that Fairy's status has changed. She is no longer just a sibling who is struggling to cope, she is a Young Carer, with capital letters and everything.

Labels are not always good things, but sometimes they are just what you need to get people to take you seriously.

Police #2

We had the police round today. I'm writing about it so I can try and straighten it all out in my brain, as it's something I'm struggling to get my head around. I don't find it easy to think about.

Today we had two police officers, plus an intermediary. The intermediary took the lead; her job seems to be to assess Tickle's abilities in language, communication, understanding, that sort of thing. The police need to know whether Tickle can give reliable evidence about what happened to him - so does he understand the difference between the truth and a lie, does he have an idea of when things happened to him, could he be interviewed and asked questions. I think if things continue to progress then the intermediary would advise the police on how to approach things with Tickle, what he can understand, and generally continue to be involved and keep an eye on things. Of the two police officers, one was leading the case, and the other is trained in interviewing children.


Thank you - a post about support networks

Just read this blog from the fantastic Al Coates, on trauma. It resonated with me so much; the way that your feet are suddenly swept out from under you, your brain clouds over with fog so thick you can almost chew it, and you stumble through the days barely even remembering how to lift up your arm to scratch your nose.

This was where we found ourselves at the start of October; suddenly but predictably, shocking and unsurprising all at once. We'd been expecting it, but you're never prepared.

The bit of Al's post that warmed my heart was where he talks about the support he has from friends, family, and professionals. We also had arms waiting to catch us, and it was beautiful. People cooked for us for weeks, came to visit and took us out for lunch, sent biscuits and chocolate in the post, messages of support and virtual hugs. Even people I don't see that often had kept themselves updated with the blog, so that when I did bump in to them and they said "How are you? I&…

Happy New Year

It's been a while since I last posted. So many half-written posts never quite left my head; I'm not quite sure why, but I felt like I needed to take a step back from things for a bit, to give myself a break from the constant worrying, analysing, wondering if we're OK.

Quite a lot has happened in the month or so since I last wrote.

Tickle's Social Worker is still being an absolute arse. We cannot have a conversation now where she doesn't point out something that someone else is supposed to have done, some answer she is waiting for me to give her to a question I don't remember being asked, some piece of work someone else was supposed to do which - of course - is the reason she hasn't done the things *she* was supposed to do. Though there doesn't seem to be a reason why Tickle's life story book is now a year overdue, or why we still haven't been reimbursed for our introductions expenses. Her complete self-interest and total lack of tact or compassi…