Hi nice to meet you , I’m Gaye a social worker for the childrens social services team. Did you think by changing your name and moving that we wouldn’t find you? I reply” what are you talking about” i bought this house 14 years ago ?”
So you’ve never lived in Wick then?
No , I reply
Oh , maybe I’ve got my facts wrong. But why did you change your name ?
I changed my name when I was 18 as my birth name sounded foreign and I was working as a comunity care nurse. Why? – I ask her.
The conversation went on to then asks me about a so called drug problem and my other young children and where there were. I reply , I have L , she’s 4. My son is 16 and lives with his dad. I have no other children?? Or any bloody history of drugs.
I gave her some paperwork as evidence. She said ” you can trust me, I won’t loose them. I promise I will just show them to my manager, make a copy of them and drop them back to you tomorrow.”
They were the only copies I had . I never got them back.
I was hounded and targeted by them as there believed I was this person they believed I was , the druggie who changed her name and moved to get away from them. I will never forget the social worker saying to me ” I new we would find you in the end” . I’ve never had any previous experience with dealing with childrens social services other than in a professional capacity.
I made the mistake of trusting them.
They promised to help me as I was so ill and needed help on the days I couldn’t walk , to get my daughter to school.
I organized for one of the other mother’s I new from my daughter’s play school, who’s daughter was my daughter’s best friend , to take my daughter to school and pick her up and I just had to drive to her house.
She used to be a childminder. This was all agreed with the social worker who also told us both that child Services would pay for this. 2 months into it, the childminder was getting pissed off as she turned down a job at the girls school to help me out. And social services had not paid her so she said well if I’m not getting paid I’m not doing it. I offered to pay her , but she was so upset that she just said no.
The social worker had another plan. Her plan was to move my daughter from her new school from all her friends she went to playschool with and her best friends, to a school down the road from our home.
As I was told it would be easier for me as I could walk my daughter to school then.
I was given no other option as to agree.
A week before my daughter changed schools , the social worker took my daughter to school with me one morning so she could see how far I had to walk from street parking to classroom. We had a meeting with my daughter’s school. The social worker wanted to have a private chat with my daughter’s teacher while I chatted with the head mistresses.
The social worker left me at the school. I only had my house keys with me. No phone, no money and no way of getting home. As it was a 45 min walk. I struggled to walk for 30 seconds. As due to being so aneamic from having fibroids, I developed a blood clot in my calf . Both my feet, ankles and legs to my knees were like elephant feet. .
I was absolutely beside myself with grief as how was I to get home , I was starting to bleed thought my monsters pads I was wearing. I had been gushing for 23 days straight. I could only wear my slipper boots that were my old UGG boots. And they were hurting me. The school were not helpful but they did call the SW and she said she had to rush off to another appointment. I was to find my own way home. I had 45p in the bank and no cash.
It took me 4 hours to walk home. I was absolutely sodden in blood. I had a navy tracksuit top on that I managed to wrap round my waist but if you looked close enough you could see the blood on it as well. I have never been in so much pain in my life. My chest pain was unbearable as I couldn’t breathe enough air. It was worse that a astma attack . I was crying my eyes out like a baby when I finally got home. Just has time to shower and get clean clothes on and clear up the mess just in time to then drive my car to pick my daughter up from school . With big smiles and lots of everything is ok fakeness as my daughter was 5 she didn’t need to no my shit. We go feed the ducks as it was a Monday. I push myself to just get on with it. We looked at the homework and did spellings reading at the kitchen table while dinner cooks. We chat about her day and do some colouring in , We eat , watch the Simpsons , I run her a bath , wash her hair, sit her on her bed, dry and brush her hair as she reads to me and eats her cut up apple, Night time platts done, moisturiser and PJ’s on. We brush our teeth , I tuck her into her cost bed, sit next to her with my arm around her and read to her until she falls asleep in my arms.
Then I go downstairs. Fill up the dish washer, hang the washing out, wash the floors and wipe the sides down in the kitchen.
Make a pint of ice and water. And go to bed. Its 8pm.
Every evening was the same , except for the after school activities. It would be park then Sainsbury’s shipping on a Tuesday. Sea front walk looking for shells on a Wednesday. Thursday is kite flying, football or bike ride or something similar Friday is a free for what she wants to do normal play the Wii or games on my iPad.. As we have fish and chips in front of the TV watching the Simpsons on a Friday. I’m always in bed by 8. Fast asleep by 8:30pm.
My car boot had everything in it. Wellington boots , socks , towels , sun cream , bottles of water , wet wipes , change of clothes for every occasion, balls kites, bubbles, pens and paper , books , hats, coats , gloves, even a tent.
I can’t write any more tonight as I’m sat here in floods of tears as i miss my daughter so much. I did nothing wrong except be ill. And how was that my fault.
Yet they took her anyway. Risk of becoming a young carer they said.
Mental Health Recovery 