There is a subject I skirt. Sure, if you talk to me regularly you’ve likely heard me mention it, but I surely haven’t brought it up at any length publicly yet.

The fallout of Brooklyn’s being taken from us for J has been stated. He has suffered regression, a major surge of anxiety into his life and a general feeling of instability that leaves him clingy and uncertain. He works, every day, to regain ground that he lost but there are a lot of things that just are completely wrecked for him at the moment. We can’t ignore that, we can’t escape that and we work to rectify that. What others stole we will restore, I have deep faith in that.

Meanwhile, I ignore the destruction wrought on myself.

Every day I beat myself up for getting on that plane in June and bringing Brooklyn back to Ohio. I had misgivings when I dropped her off, but I trusted. Should I have trusted? I do not feel I should have no, though I feel the person I trusted possibly was as mentally knocked about in this situation as I have been if not more so. I shook as I stood there in the facility letting her go and detailing her very specific care to the staff. Everything felt wrong, and every day I have to face the regret that came with not listening to my gut and misplacing my trust instead.

I let my son get hurt. I know, logic screams that is not the case, but my brain doesn’t always function well with logic. The wound was made. It’s going to be a very, very long time to heal. I feel hurt, broken, unworthy. I feel like a failure, a person who breaks promises, a person whose earnest nature was taken advantage of and whose words were manipulated for the gain of others. I feel used, abused and tossed aside. I feel lied to and cheated.

I feel like I have an open sore that will never heal over.

Everyday I fight crippling anxiety and depression lately. I don’t want to function. Frankly, I want to stay in my bed and hide from everything. It hurts to go out in the world. It hurts to do bare basic necessities. The only reason I put one foot in front of the other is J. He’s brave enough to keep going and keep shining and I cannot completely fail him again.

Our visit to APAW for our interview with them was a light in the darkness. I am very upfront with my own disability and they know it is there. They understand psychiatric disabilities. They will not put me in a position to use my illness against myself. This I can see by what they have done.

Every day I still hurt though. Every day things still feel wrong. Every day people still sit back and blame me for their choices and actions, like my family actually did something wrong.

I know we gave Brooklyn the finest care and the utmost love.

I know she had a happy, safe and adoring home with us.

I know we followed the rules to a T because my mental illness would accept little else.

Still, every day I have to live with the doubt that was planted. And I will never get resolution. A death? The story is ended. There is no ending here, there is just an open and gaping void with no rhyme or reason. Nothing ever had to be this way and somehow, we will move forward thanks to great people and a great community who actually believe in us.

Remember, if it seems too good to be true it nearly always is.