I'm so scared to write this.. & why therapy doesn't work

Okay, I finally came home..and since I have always felt lame keeping a journal here I am again.. only this time my big girl panties are on and there is no tall big handsome

sitting here waiting to take them off for me nicely ..or fearfully maybe never again.. maybe it's a complete miracle that there was ever anyone there to take them off in the first place.. okay great so I've been gone because I guess the things I am dealing with in life right now are super heavy and challenging and I have hit that point of dealing with things by not dealing with things... and it's working. kind of.. I am now parading around as one of those emotionally crippled people that works so often that I do not really have any business doing anything other than working showering, and sometimes sleeping. My drive to make as much money as possible while spending as least on myself as possible has become so sick that I have found myself in my car with the Lyft app on with sleep in my eyes before even looking as my phone an hour to town later to realize that I scheduled a day off this day.

That is the situation now here is the scary part...because I am dealing with this

hopelessness, this excruciatingly agonizing time away from my sweet babies this way and because my case has drug on so long I fear I am altering the way my daughters process the world permanently. Of course I don't want jar their memories and bring up all the questions now with a disgusting and totally unjust 30 minutes a week, now a month to talk to them via zoom. Anyways, I notice that once I "red line" like

something is too painful to process all in the moment it is happening "happens a lot now and is becoming a habit". Worse is even when I go back to process whatever the hurtful thing happened later, I can almost completely forget it, I've become so used to the numbed out state it takes for a mother to wake up not to her babies everyday that nothing can really get very much worse on the daily. I have the hope of love or the hope of a real tangible response from their other parental but I honestly don't know if I would even believe my eyes if someone did ever even show up, when would I stop expecting them to walk out and never come back? Will there ever be anyone I won't hold my breathe and expect to lose them to? It's too embarrassing and painful to even express in words honestly, and maybe that's why I am able to almost forget it because I dread fully admitting the humiliating hope and let down actually happens therefore, don't admit to myself that I hoped for someone who would do that in the first place, and therefore minimize the space it takes up in my head and my ego to be so small that it

almost didn't happen in my memory and on to another agonizing day until this ordeal is over, subconsciously of course. Maybe this is partly because the first and only time my daughters cried for more than 2 minutes without taking a boobie smoothie to make it all better within about 45 seconds was when they where grabbed off of me by 3 huge officers and then kept from even speaking to me for 30 days. That happened now 2 years ago when they were only 15 months old. Perhaps something so huge and so horrible is the most significant memory my daughters have of me and our time physically together, I honestly don't

know, it's hard to get them to talk much about how they feel in 30 minutes. Overwhelming for me, the fact that I have fought to get them therapy and I know so many psychology majors that won't even have a real conversation with me about it is spirit crushing. To see beyond this into my passions, my health, my book, all the things that I was pouring myself into as the girls slept with such a deep joy I can only pray to ever recapture, seems impossible right now. The only thing I can think is to work my butt off in a job where I can burst into tears at anytime with no one caring so I can afford a lawyer someday. I am exhausted from the good cry that this broke free, which I believe I needed, so great success! I will make solid effort to be here more regularly for myself. Like any mother I refuse to be out of mind for my daughters so I am just grappling with a giant size toddler temper tantrum coupled with a incurable want to be picked

up and held in the time away. I cannot even face the book Memoir to my Daughters that I planned on finishing any day because there is just too much for me to write about all that is wrong here now and to look back at the vague hopes for changing the world that I began at will be painful. Plus I want to include a moms CPS survival guide insert on all the things I wish I thought of in the first 5 days before trial and I just cant complete this until it is over.