The letter box rattling today, a highly confidental letter, doubled up to ensure privacy, my heart skipping a beat, pulling the papers towards me, glancing down reading the print before me. My heart now in my mouth as the tears threatened to show, the words floating before me, fear over taking me, a feeling of dread washing through my veins. My mind stops, my body detaches, and I am stood 16 yrs prior outside a door unknowing to what was stood before me
16 yrs ago, I walked into a room, a room of 12 people, 2 of whom I knew, the rest unknown, there to decide my future with my child. Unprepared, uncertain and naive, I sat on a chair, looking at each face, taking in blankness, statues, no care in the world of the parent before them. Papers handed out, words spoken, nothing made sense, yet things became clear. So much said in a short space of time, so much thrown at me, expected of me, and accused of. Some of which I admit guilt others I sat tears flowing as realisation that those I thought cared, were in fact part of the reason why I ended up in a fish bowl.
I became fearful, I became unsure, I had so many questions but no voice. I took upon me everything, confused and scared.
I walked away with un answered questions, yet held the promises of hope and help. I did everything that was asked, yet I was let down, distrust became my natural instinct, hatred of those with power, questioning those close to me, wanting to block out pain and push away those whom I once classed as trustworthy. Let down constantly, I rebelled, I didn’t know were I stood. I was scared, I was let down, I was left, I was alone, No Hope, No Help.
Today holding the letter in my hand, promises, hope, many people deciding the future of my children, a meeting yet to come in the next week, the date is set, a meeting for once I am prepared for due to the past, yet so unprepared because my position now is one of failure, one of failed parenting, failure at trying to exist. It’s a meeting I am so scared of, yet one I hope my voice will speak at, whether in type or sound. I know once there silence will over come me, the past haunting me, making me fearful of what is to be said.
A meeting that is caused through my own stupidiy and selfishness. The latter something that I am, yet can’t seem to over come as I screw up time after time. It’s built within me, failing my children and my family, constantly.
I try, I try so much, but this coming week I hope will make those here for the children, blood or not, realise that without me, those children would be secure.
With me in it, I hope they are prepared for a battle, one I fear will be lost, but one I am willing to give my soul too.
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