More Footnotes...

Do I blame myself?

Sometimes, yes I do...

But there were no clues.

Margo has told us that these kinds of issues happen this quickly and out of the blue.

I wish I could tell my daughter that I've never stopped missing her, that I'm sorry I couldn't do enough to help her, that I wish she hadn't had to go through her time in hospital or being bullied.  

That I wish when I'd asked for help for her we'd been given it.

I would tell her that I'm sorry that I had to fight tooth and nail just to get people to listen when she said she was in pain.  

That I'm sorry she had to wait so long to get that help.

Perhaps things would have been different if CAMHS had been willing to help us when we knew we needed them most.

I hope she's happy, and that she finds people in her life that can truly accept her for who she is so that she doesn't have to pretend any more.

I hope one day she knows the truth...

***

Once a year, on January 5th, I plan to link this blog of sorts to my Facebook page, and once again on World Autism Day (April 2nd).  

I don't mean to offend anybody, but I do want people to notice.

That's why the link will read 'Why I hate Autism'.

Notice I'm not saying I hate the person with Autism, but I do hate the ignorance and the lack of knowledge about it that has lead to us losing our daughter.

It seems so barbaric and incomprehensible that in this day and age this has been allowed to happen to us...  and not just once, but effectively twice.

I won't even tell you about my bad days in trying to come to terms with all of this, but I will tell you this...

If I didn't wake up tomorrow that wouldn't be a bad thing at all...  and I look forward to the day I die.

If that doesn't tell you how much this hurts then nothing will.

***

Some time has passed since I wrote the above, and I'm ready to tell you some more of what happened.

Why?

Because this isn't just about Milly any more.

She's gone.

And the pain of that hurts just as much as if she were actually dead.

So I've got to try and find a way to live without her.  

Which is why I never go to any meetings about her.

Never.

Let me explain...

You see, after the first set of allegations Milly made against me, I was asked to go to the Police Station to do a 'Voluntary Police Interview'.

(You don't have to, but you do get advised that it looks bad and could count against you if you don't).

So I go through the ordeal of that...  and then have to go through it all again when Milly alleges a few months later that I took her somewhere to be raped...

After the onslaught of questions the second time 'round
(all taped in a room just like a real Police Interview and held under the same conditions - other than me actually being cautioned and 'under arrest'),
I get told that the information I've provided will have to be reviewed and investigated so that they can see if there's enough evidence to prosecute me.

The Police Woman stresses to me that the 'burden of proof' they are after is far greater than that used by Social Services and that there has to be some actual evidence.

And I wait...  And I wait...  And I wait...

And all I can think about during this time (and please don't misinterpret this as I did not do any of the  things that Milly has accused me of) is that they will find 'something'.

After all, that's effectively what happened last time when Milly was in the hospital...

They just took a set of circumstances completely out of my control and blamed me anyway.

And I was convinced that the same thing would happen again. 

I went from crying every single day because Milly was gone to crying every single day because I believed that they would come up with some 'proof' and present it as fact...

and I just knew that I couldn't cope with going to court...  or any of it.

I just couldn't...

I knew because I hadn't coped with the Court Proceeding's we'd already been through.

(Where Social Services take you to court as part of their Care proceedings).

I sat in on one session - after the initial court hearing where not a lot happened because they couldn't discuss anything without me being aware of the charges made against me - and left midway in floods of tears at the point where the Social Services solicitor was speaking to the Judge and querying my daughter's Autism diagnosis...  

I'm talking about those gut wrenching, noisy tears that just don't stop.
I refused to go in again after that, knowing full well that I just couldn't do it anymore.

Of course, it didn't help that we were blessed with the Judge from Hell who has a reputation for being downright dogmatic, rude and opinionated.

 Our solicitor apologised to us on more than one occasion for this particular judge's vitriolic behaviour -   who wouldn't even let the case proceed to 'Findings' (a term used where experts are brought in to get to the bottom of what's going on) because she maintained that Autistic children never lie...

Our solicitor's - even Social Services solicitors tried several times to get the judge to change her mind.

She simply stated each time that 'in her experience Autistic children do not lie'...  and that was good enough for her.

Arguments about Milly needing to be psychologically assessed were pushed aside with utterances to Social Services of 'do it yourself once she's in your Care'.

Well...  you see how well that's played out, don't you?

And to spell it out to those of you who haven't understood what I've been saying, I spent the next eight to ten weeks (whilst I waited for the Police to hurry up and complete their investigation) coming up with a plan to kill myself.

Let's just say that I now understand what it means to be so desperate that death seems to be the only way out...  the only viable option.
I just hurt so, so much.

And that's a dark, dark place to be in.

And all I could ask myself for months afterwards is how do I ever, ever even begin to forgive any of this if Milly has done it all on purpose?

 I still cry that Milly never even said goodbye, never even left a note when she must have known what was going to happen that day.

I still cry about lots of things...

and about eighteen months in I cried every single day for a week.

Why?

Because I finally found out for sure what I had expected all the way along.

Social Services are convinced that I'm what was formerly known as 'a Munchausser's By Proxy' parent.
That's why they aren't doing a single thing to address her mental health state...
and why they adamantly refuse to meet with Margo Sharpe - one of only a handful of highly trained people who could help them to help my daughter.

***

The bad days aren't quite as often anymore...

Milly has broken our hearts...  and we know that other families have silently suffered similar fates with their child on the Autistic spectrum.

We know that we are not alone in our suffering.

We are not alone with the injustice of it all.

You may be wondering why, if this is the case, nobody really seems to know anything about it?
I've tried to get reporters to write up this story...  big papers as well as small.
And in the end, in desperation, I finally got someone from one of the bigger papers to explain why no one would touch the story.
It's partly because they don't want to get involved in what they believe to be a 'medical' matter and partly because it would cost too much to investigate and report on.

In other words, it's not a big enough story...

So too few people are aware that this is happening and it continues to happen.

And Social Services remain clueless., but have full and total power in each of these cases.

So please help me.

Please share this story with other people.

Maybe if enough people know, things will begin to change...