Today we finished painting the family room, the second coat it's been needing for several weeks since we finally did the first one. It's amazing how much of a difference paint can make.
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Tomorrow we have to interview a woman to facilitate the supervised visitation between Little J and her mother and I'm not looking forward to that, particularly. Something about it makes me feel icky. I don't like the idea of the supervised visits... and I don't like the fact that they're so very necessary. Little J, tonight, didn't even want to speak to her mother when she called and made an excuse to get off the phone immediately. Their relationship is in trouble and I don't know if I should even care. In some ways I feel compelled to try and help them resuscitate their bond... and in other ways I think it would be healthiest for Little J to let it go. I'm past the point of caring what's best for C anymore. She has chosen drugs over all of us.
A funny thing I've noticed since our family drama began is that people always assume that C is going to come out of her drug-induced irrationality and turn around completely. They all say things about how we just have to support and love her through it, how she'll undoubtedly come around in time and realise all we've done to help her by supporting her daughter, taking in her pets, and taking on her primary responsibilities. They all nod sagely and assure us that time will change things.
They don't know her.
They don't know addiction.
They don't know anything.
These are people who watch Intervention too often or maybe Dr. Phil and have unrealistic ideas about what this kind of situation looks like. The chances of recovery are honestly very slim. And even if recovery is embarked upon, the chances of relapse are enormous. The likelihood that C is going to come to understand and appreciate what we've done is very slight. The chance that she'll ever be a mother to Little J again are almost nil.
The reality is that we're most likely in this for the long haul. No amount of birth control could have prevented us from having this child.
The good thing is that she's worth it.
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