The Workshops! (read: taking my mind off the current situ)

The current situ is that I am awaiting the decision as to whether I am being deemed 'favourable' or 'not favourable' as a match for one little poppet on the priority list. I was supposed to have this decision last week. Obviously not. Then I went to the office to ask what was going on, having had the next priority list sent to me (and under time constraints to get letters of 'interest', for want of a better term, to them) to be told that this child is especially special due to a diagnosis he has. I don't want to go into too much detail because a) maybe it's not allowed and b) my heart is in my mouth waiting. So that was the delay. However, the official paper has been produced with the decision, it's just waiting for a signature. I was assured that I would be telephoned TODAY and told. So I've emailed to be told that it will be tomorrow but that the 'process is going forward well'. WTAF? 

Any time this has happened in the past, this has been the exact cycle of emotions: anger, frustration, shouting, whatsapping, crying, more anger then acceptance. It happens quite quickly now...I can be back to 'cool' in about an hour. Just don't tell me that my life might be changing today if it's not going to be today. If it's 'maybe next week', just please say 'maybe next week'. That is much more manageable. I can cope with that. Knowing that TODAY IS THE DAY is positively torturous. Anyway, today is not the day. Hopefully tomorrow will be the day. Send me all the good luck fairies please. I'm sure he's the one. I just need them to think that, too. 

So...the workshops. Goodness, it's so long ago, I can barely recall. Essentially, they were made up of all prospective adoptive parents and it was great that there were 2 single woman in my group, although I was the youngest in the room by at least 10 years. I found that quite shocking, actually. They were run by a psychologist who basically worked around a theme each week, from the type of circumstances these abandoned children may have come from to the types of problems they may encounter in the future. They were 2.5 hours each, once a week, for 4 weeks. I was prepared for the language barrier; I was ill prepared for the cultural barrier. The classes started with a round robin of 'how everyone was feeling' and reflections on the previous week etc. It genuinely shocked me how much people could talk about what they thought and were feeling in front of a group of 10 strangers! Natually, when they got to me, my answers were more or less 'si, estoy bien, gracias'. That's it, folks! That's all you're getting! I'm British, for crying out loud!! We don't do all this sharing your feelings malarky!  

Looking back, I'm not sure if they were that helpful, truth be told. It was all too 'pie in the sky' for me - this might have happened and this could be what happens as a result. I guess I thought that if you were in this group, you'd maybe have a bit of a knowledge base of possible reasons children end up on the adoption register. Perhaps that was a bit judgemental of me, actually. But anyway, they did cover a broad range of heartbreaking, too close to home scenarios that only strengthened my desire to continue on. However, there was some false info given. Did I mention I was single?? (that getting old yet?) Because, apparently, because I am a single woman, I would ONLY be matched with a child over 5 years. I confirmed that I'd understood that with the man beside me who spoke a bit of English...yes, yes, you won't get a child under 5 years old because you're single. Say what?? Thinking perhaps that this wasn't the best platform to get into the why the actual this would be the case, I saved this nugget to email the ministry contact. Guess what? That's not true at all! Single people have exactly the same process and rights as married people! Isn't that lovely? Not ostracised after all! 

Anyway. I'm late for Spanish, this is not my best work, but it is therapeutic to get some of this hammered out while I wait for those powers that be to tell me if that's maybe my baby or not. 

Maz out.