inhale

I feel the air move through my nose and into my lungs. My lungs effortlessly fill and it feels wonderful. I think it's the first full breath I've taken in a week. 

After a very scary few days, when it appeared as though social services was becoming "officially" involved in M's care, it looks as though that isn't going to happen. I had visions of them questioning our homeschooling... insisting that I put him in school (what a nightmare that would be, after 8 years at home!), or a day treatment or residential program. I was thinking it might be time to hire a lawyer.

I haven't slept much this week... There is apparently no confidentiality when dealing with social services (a fact I used to know back when we were foster parents, but have somehow forgotten since then) and finding that one of the caseworkers I was talking to was "copying" her emails to me about M to someone at county sheriff's department was extremely disconcerting (ok, it was downright scary!) but as it turned out she had good intentions. She wasn't trying to report us or imply any wrong doing on our part... She just didn't know we already have a CIT officer, and was trying to line one up for us. I disagree with her methods but I let the lapse in confidentiality go, figuring at least there was no harm done, and sometimes it's best not to rock the boat, especially when you are so close to shore... (and being able to leave the boat behind!)

The county social service workers I've spoken to this week seem like they are trying to be very helpful, and they have given me information that has led to finding what looks like some good resources for M. It wasn't until this afternoon though, that I started breathing a little easier and thinking that maybe things could actually get back to normal again here soon.

It's funny how wonderful "normal" is after coming so close to losing it...

I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off and I can breathe again, and look into the future... like tomorrow or next week... and make plans that I actually feel confident about being able to keep.

  From a book I'm reading: Happiness equals reality divided by expectations. My happiness has increased dramatically, even though the reality of life hasn't changed (M is still unpredictable, symptomatic, and in need of constant care). What has changed are my expectations... We were at risk of losing M, and now that danger seems to be fading. I like this equation, I've never quite thought of happiness in a mathematical way before... 

Ahhhh.... normal is wonderful.

  The next time I complain about normal, please slap me...