Yesterday I wrote a long detailed email to Mike’s social worker about how we felt like we needed to distance ourselves from him emotionally during the transition because he is being so negative and vindictive. The response I got was one sentence. “What clothes of Mike’s do you still have at home?”
Bart reminds me that we are not her clients, but an acknowledgment of our pain or loss or whatever would have been nice.
Now I’m heading to the airport feeling unsettled when I should be feeling great about getting away. But the fact is, that even when you’re away, you’re never really away.
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