This morning while Dinky was watching Big Al be discovered and analysed again I decided that I would go to my key work session at 10am.
We got up and dinky was in full avoidance. She couldn’t possibly make her breakfast because I got the Tinkerbell bowl and there was no monkey spoon. So I got her a space bowl and a monkey spoon, she poured herself a small breakfast and then said she had a tummy ache so couldn’t eat it, which meant she might not be able to go to school! Then I caught her eating a biscuit in the kitchen! Cheeky monkey! She said she was hungry. I let her get on with it. I got her uniform which she approved of this morning, yet still refused to get in. She then took up position behind the sofa (which separates the living area from the dining area). Once she was dressed I needed to get some bits sorted. Dinky didn’t like me entering the dining area so threw the beanbag, then, the remote control car at me, followed by some books.
When it was time to leave she was ok. We walked to the school with her complaining about burning feet, tummy ache (which I assume is anxiety) and running out of energy.
At the school dinky wouldn’t give me her sunglasses and hid under the computer tables. I tried to get her out and then used the line “well, I am off to do the activity on the red table, I wonder what we are doing today?” Beginning of the week teacher cottoning on says “its a shame you are going on your own, it is a fun activity this morning on the red table”. Dinky does not like this at all comes flying out from under the table head butts me and punches me twice. The teacher tries to get dinky to apologise but the more she asks, the less likely dinky is to do it. As if on cue, dinky runs off around the early years unit. I guide her carefully to her table. They are using children’s chopsticks to pick up beans and put them in the cups, they have to match the number on the front. Dinky likes this idea, no writing! So happily does the task, well, happily enough until she decides it would just be easier to use her hands!
I read her Goldilocks and the three bears and off I go!
Today I went to see my key worker. Why? In the end it was because she was expecting me to turn up and I don’t like letting people down. She is a very nice and bubbly woman, who, against the odds actually gets me a lot.
(I am editing from here, as I was tired and do not think it made much sense at all)
It was a very frustrating session for me, and in some respects for the key worker too.
I tend to spend a lot of time talking about dinky and how things are progressing. I tell her about the battles with the school and how things are going with the whole CAF process. While she understands why I spend time talking about dinky, as she is my life, she has to remind me that I am there for me.
This is all well and good but I don’t see how we can move forward for me at the moment.
There are things I can do and things I can not. I need to focus on what I can do. The CMHT have already made it quite clear that I am on my own. I don’t self harm, I don’t take illegal drugs and I am not a drinker, therefore with their limited budgets I am not a priority. I was sent to the Key worker to get me to socialise. I’m not a very sociable person, and I know it stems from my past. Which doesn’t make the key worker’s job any easier. Although she did manage to get me to agree to try the woodwork group on Mondays. We will see how it goes.
I guess the biggest thing for me moving forward is to deal with the issues from the past. The thing is I have always been discouraged from doing it the right way as they always worry it will be too much for me. I do not know how many times I have said that if they are waiting for my life to be rosey, or sweetness and light then they are in for a long wait. They normally laugh or shrug it off as me being dramatic or pessimistic. I call it realistic!
When I first went I became homeless thanks to the woman who took me in. I was 18 and they said it was too much living in the Foyer and dealing with the past. Then I went again at 21 when I had my flat and my job, but they could only offer 16 sessions. Which helped a little but was nowhere near enough. I tried again at 23, I was laughed at by the mental health team as they didn’t think I met the criteria for support. At 25 I tried again, then I became homeless again and it ‘wasn’t the right time’. It was when that ended that I was referred to the CMHT. Who again said I was not strong enough and it wasn’t a good time as we were in the hostel.
Now the key worker doesn’t think it is a good time because of all that is going on with Dinky. Which is all well and good. However, if Dinky has PDA (of which I am relatively certain), then my life is NEVER going to be simple. I also told her that I wouldn’t know how to deal with an easy life! It generally takes a few months for professionals or people working with me, to see just how hectic my life can be at times.
It makes me think of the Play Therapist that saw dinky. She said that it all seems like water off a ducks back. Which is true, most things are like water off a ducks back to me, living with my mother while horrible, has stood me in good stead for expecting the unexpected and dealing with it in a practical manner. I learnt how to block emotions coming into hard situations- except Dinky has turned me very soppy, to the point where, people used to challenge me to watch films and remark how I was more robot than human, however now mention Dinky and her difficulties and I well up! Even just thinking about her makes my heart beat almost out of my chest!
Back to the point… It is very frustrating. I was visibly frustrated and the key worker said she understood that I was frustrated and she was frustrated also. We kept swinging round in circles. I was tired and I was not thinking properly.
I hate being that tense and wound up.
I came home and spoke to lovely mum as her lad was having a tough time with going into school and the school were being useless to the point of obstructive. We had a chat about the kids.
I wrote on here but it was very messy. And I do vow not to write when I am that tired or frustrated again.
I went to pick dinky up from school, I asked about the contact book. I am really, really fed up with the school and the contact book. Beginning of the week teacher said that there was nothing to report really. Dinky was happy to learn within an activity of her own choosing, but disappeared off during more structured time and needed to be spoken to about it. I told her that I need to know those things. I need to know for myself, so I know what to do and not to do with Dinky. I need to know for dinky so I can help her if she has had a tough day, or expect her to be tougher to deal with at home. Also for the paediatrician, this stuff is evidence to PDA, avoiding expectations, or not complying with the demand of sitting for carpet time.
She says “I can see that, I will start doing it”.
I feel like banging my head off a brick wall! They were supposed to be doing it in the first place!!!!
Dinky was pulling the wrist reins, trying to go and the teacher in all her infinite wisdom says “I prefer to talk to you about it” I told her I don’t! It isn’t easy talking with Dinky there, I cant concentrate on what they are saying because she is constantly trying to escape.
We went to the park. Dinky was playing with two lads who were constantly shouting her name. It was nice to see these lads wanting to play with her. One of them was the boy who goes to nurture with her. The other is a lad she talks about a lot at home. Both seem to be rebels who are not bothered at all by her complete lack of ability to follow the rules. They seem quite happy to be there breaking them with her! I do not know if this is actually a good thing or bad thing. It is nice that they want to play with her but they are obviously encouraging her, and she is doing the same. it must be difficult for the teachers at times.
Dinky was saying she was hungry all the way home. She decided on eggy bread for dinner, which is fine as she had maccorni cheese and ham for lunch. She kept asking how long dinner would be.
I made her eggy bread. She didn’t eat it! She has done this a few time recently.
Bedtime was a struggle. She was pretending to be asleep on the sofa in an attempt to get out of getting ready for bed. So I have to try and dress a limp but giggling, pretending to be asleep child. She argues about wanting to read, and wanting to play with Simba, needing to watch the TV. I get everything close to hand thrown at me.
Eventually she goes to bed.
Despite my attempt to go to bed at a reasonable hour. I couldn’t sleep.