"i think i'm going to cry"

i said, as my friend and daughter's advocate sat at the table in the visiting room.



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this is how it feels, trying to be brave and stifling emotions and keeping the pace, as an advocate for my daughter. feeling the surge of tears that are just not allowed in that situation. i wasn't disappointed for myself, it was for my daughter.







yes, imagine she is reading prompting from us in words and hearing the prompts. she was pacing, and nervous and she couldn't tell us what was wrong, and after coloring and talking and her pacing and then wandering to a tv room with a radio on, her world was grasped by the music.







you try and get behind the (her) behavior, the assessment of the actions, and if i knew from the entering into the building how her day began, or how the coat was in fact not an option, (the shoes? who knows, they weren't on her feet) and how i cannot, as a mom go take over and look in her closet like i might at home, because of privacy rules and respect for her roommate, my hands are tied and dependent on who is in charge of her then and now.







lack of communication, lack of knowledge of how to work with my daughter, whatever we call it, the day was planned in a massive meeting days ago to give her time to process the thought. to plan for the day, and we did. she did too.







here we were doing our thing, trying not to pressure her to go outside, just giving her the choice, the option and like fools telling her to go get her coat and shoes.







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one day this will not be a roller coaster, based on a system that reserves the rights for no one.







one day, i will not worry about crying in a visiting room, one day.







one day, there will be a smooth transition, not just a scattered post over 5 months of "wow isn't this a great day!"







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