Upset My Daughter, Feel My Wrath

I sometimes wish I had an anonymous blog. The reason for this is so I can write about all those events that happen in my life that will inevitably cause offence, harm or anguish. I blogged about a very unfortunate event about 4 and a half years ago and it landed me in a whole heap of trouble, which meant I learned my lesson about the perils of blogging at an early stage. Something happened in our family recently that led to a visit by a social worker. All I can say is it involved Amy and you can't imagine the distress it caused. I've only ever had dealings with one social worker throughout my life when my late father-in-law had to go into a nursing home. I felt as though I were being grilled. This latest incident has left me shell-shocked. Even though the social worker involved appeared a lovely, sympathetic person, I couldn't help feeling violated and under immense pressure to say the right thing. My daughter told a lie. She's 12, an adolescent and is well known for her extremely vivid imagination. When I was 12, I probably lied through my teeth on many occasions.

It's been hard not to talk about it openly because I think it would have helped me to accept that these people are just doing their jobs. But they have no idea, or at least they don't care if they have, at the stress their interfering into my family life has caused. I am furious at the thought I was forced to meet with a total stranger and respect she was just doing her job. When someone upsets my daughter and causes her unnecessary distress like these people have, I become incredibly defensive. People see another side to me; the confident mother and advocate to a special needs child who will do absolutely anything to support that child whatever the consequences.

Just doing a job or sticking their nose into decent folk's business, it doesn't matter. What did matter was the fact that my very vulnerable and autistic daughter has been put in a situation where she lived in fear of a woman asking awkward questions that she was terrified to answer. I've had to reassure her on numerous occasions that she wasn't in any trouble, I expressed Amy's distress to social services, but still the social worker insisted on speaking to her. It's half a story I know but at least I've got some of it off my chest. Fortunately, Amy is doing well now and seems to be putting the incident behind her which is what she was doing before social services raked it up again. It isn't a particularly serious incident I must add, but it has had a profound effect on me as a parent. I have realised just how much of a nanny state this country has become in so far that red tape and beaurocracy are now so extreme, parents will soon not be allowed to kiss their children goodnight. I know there are some genuinely decent social workers out there, in fact I'm sure the majority are doing a wonderfully professional job. But if you're opening a case concerning a child with autism then you need to know about the condition itself. You need to learn about how vulnerable, how routine-obsessed, how meticulous these children can be. Go on another course if that's what it takes, but don't ever come round my house again making me feel unsafe and uncomfortable in my own home, leaving my daughter in a state of distress. You might be doing your job, but some of your methods disgust me.