my best interests.

The guilt trip meeting took place. I only cried for a minute out of the 45 minute meeting. In that moment I also realized there are no tissues left at work. (So far, it has been that kinda day.) Anyway, after it was all said and done, Daytime Emmy Nominee will be moving from our home by April 9th. End of the story. I am honestly broken.

People ask me what happens next. Sadly, if you have been paying attention to my blog, you know there are not enough foster parents for teenagers. There are even less homes for teens with big behaviors. There has been a statewide search for a placement for her, and there are none. It is very likely that she will leave us and end up in a secure residential placement.

Hubby and I have always called secure residential facilities kid jail. Years ago we had visits with a youth in residential in Detroit. You get buzzed in and out of doors, there are bars on windows, and very friendly security pat downs. Those visiting have a small window to with the kiddo they are there to see. If you happen to be wanting to leave grounds on an outing, that all needs to be approved in advance, and again, timeline to follow and sign in and out. Maybe that’s what Daytime Emmy needs. My head knows that’s very likely true.

I was asked today if I would allow Daytime Emmy Nominee to stay beyond the 9th. I asked her what she wanted to which she replied, “I don’t care. Whatever.” I told her this was her chance to not answer as an angry person, and she said she’d like to stay, but again, “whatever.” So, I said if she didn’t care, then no, I was holding firm at the 9th as a move out date. A supervisor piped up and let the group know she agreed and that it wasn’t really in anyone’s best interest for me to allow it to go any further. I know she was trying to help me and I appreciate it. The gesture of course did not prevent the waterworks display. Ugh. I so badly wanted that NOT to happen.

As of right now, Daytime Emmy Nominee will be back in the house for Easter. As much as I want to hang on to her and keep working so hard to save her from herself, I know I can’t. I’m dreading Sunday. Frankly, I am now dreading every single day to the 9th. This is all ridiculous. I couldn’t tell you if the idea of her being here is worse than the idea of her home for a week. It all stinks.

Because I just want all this over, I will toss my energy at something else until it no longer feels like someone important to me has just died. I’ll keep myself busy and distracted. That’s actually a really easy task at my house, as I’m sure you can imagine. I’ll grieve the loss and carry on, although I know I am the only one in the house grieving. By the end of all this, my house ought to be really cleaned, and my closet back to organized by garment category and then by color. Ha. Yes, I’m nuts. It’s really the only reason I’ve made it this far.