Mary, Joseph, and the Shrink

Our latest worker, aptly called Mary Poppins by my friend, came to see the shrink with us this morning. I knew Mary Poppins was clueless and I planned on calling her supervisor this afternoon and either getting a different worker or discontinuing the agencies services.

The shrink was pleased with how well GB was doing and Mary sat there quietly. That took 10 minutes of our hour. The other 50 minutes were devoted to Hope. Honestly, I am not quite sure how everything fell apart, but when we were done with Hope, the SPOA application was put on hold, Hope was off the anxiety medication and we were coming back in three weeks.

Nothing has changed with Hope’s behavior. When she is interacting with me it has actually gotten worse. I feel like not only wasn’t I being heard by Mary, but now I was also not being heard at the shrink’s. Joe (The Dad) won’t talk about anything beyond “now”. I am not willing to waste another three weeks with everything staying the same or getting worse. Last week, Hope’s service providers took 12 hours of my time, plus numerous phone calls to arrange details. With SPOA paperwork derailed, there will be no RTF or RTC this year. Life will just go on.

I can not and will not do it anymore. Joe has Hope. I will no longer discuss Hope, answer calls about Hope, go to meetings about Hope, make plans concerning Hope, or schedule Hope’s appointments. I won’t even call to get Mary Poppins replaced.

All our services for Hope are time sensitive. We are midway through our time allotted for all our outside help. Nothing has changed. Reams of paperwork filled out, endless hours of meetings and therapy, and nothing is better. I am willing to work hard for Hope to become a functioning part of our family. I am done playing the system’s games.

And if that brings out the Trolls, makes me evil or a failure, so be it. I am already screwed.

Tower of Babel

We have all the support we can get for Hope. There are six professionals- one shrink, 2 therapists, 3 workers- and none of them agree on how to help Hope, much less on what the next step should be. I interact with each of these people and I am unable to keep who said what straight. I have tried to pin them down via email summaries, but two of them flat out refuse to do emails.

Hope has still not been alone with me since the end of August. I have not been attacked. Most people are thrilled at this huge progress. It doesn’t excite me. I AM happy my body is healing and I have been able to have some mother-daughter interactions with her. But the core problem is there. Nobody has even tried to work on Hope’s physical aggression. One worker hands her ultimatums, another worker reasons with her,and the third worker believes that at almost seven, Hope is too young to deal with these issues and I have to work on letting what happens on one day flow through me and start fresh the next day.

I am close to overwhelmed again. I see my own therapist tomorrow.


A week ago yesterday, I submitted a SPOA form to try to get some support for Hope. Today, I received a phone call from a social worker from the program I was hoping to get Hope into. The committee has already met, the application approved, the referral sent and accepted. A worker is coming on Tuesday to do the paperwork. It is a blessing.

Hope and I spent the afternoon together, just the two of us. She raged, but they were short lived once I reminded her Daddy wouldn’t be home for three days. Tomorrow we are going to get rid of all the contraband (nail polish, paint, sharpies, ect) in the house.

Our Star, Today….SPOA!

SPOA stands for Single Point of Access. In New York, it is the only way to get mental health care beyond once a week therapy.  Hope’s therapists filled out a SPOA application last week. I took it home, read it and sent it to the proper office. Yesterday I received a call from the SPOA lady, who said I needed an axis four diagnosis and a GAF. A GAF is a number that tells you a child’s Generalized Assessment of Functioning. I needed this number to get GB a medicaid waiver. Her GAF was a 68. Her socialization skills were not age appropriate and her self care skills were behind, too. Hope’s GAF was a 48. This score is apparently low enough to get her an RCT placement. We don’t want an RTC placement- The Dad and  I are convinced that if we sent Hope any where, we would lose what chance we had of her healing. I do believe she needs more support services.

I am still sleeping better with the alarm on Hope’s door set.