Americana InjusticaMature

A Memoir Scrapbook
just random possible thoughts and ideas to include eventually...
(Working Outline and Scraps for my Memoir)

I have slowly been changing along with all of the madness that has become of my life since the DFCS took control over my only child (supposedly to “rehabilitate” her uncontrollable behaviors in “treatment”). Gradual differences have arisen between the Old Me and this…the Me who stands in place of the one who was robbed of everything and then slowly, but surely – beaten to death. Things that I see are perceived differently than a much more trusting and naïve Me would have seen them; the pessimism is beyond any sense of measurement these days, and the world feels so much less like Home.

After experiencing everything as horrible as what has transpired in the life of my own little girl, I have lost hope or any notion of forward progression from here. I just cannot seem to get my head around the vast corruption and greed in this particular arena…hmmmm…

How was it, that a young girl in need of structure and self-control, lacking the attention span to nurture such things very well, with physiological conditions that create an appearance far more mature than her actual years in age – court-ordered to reside at a community facility for behaviorally challenged children – is victimized by a staff of that facility?

Why was it, that after the child victim of sexual assault, came forward with such information to the facility administration, she was then horribly ridiculed in turn?

How can it be possible, that the government agency charged with the care and well-being of the children in the community, is also quite willing and capable of protecting NOT THE CHILDREN, BUT THEIR PREDATORS?

…I become enraged on a daily basis;

the normalcy I claim - my job: my saving grace amongst all of humanity – as it forces me to pretend; I escaped reality every day since 2008 that way – but that slipped away also.

Timing sure the fuck IS everything, isn't it?

The End

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