Was going through a bit of a rough patch lately. Went to the lady doc to rule out the possibility of hormone trouble, going to the cardiologist today to likely be told that my heart is fine (went back on the beta-blockers). The anti-anxiety meds are working their magic -- I've stopped resisted taking them and am getting through the day as productive as I like.
The biggest benefit is taking the time, with a clearer head, to talk about what's troubling me with my friends and especially husband, who is very sympathetic and strong and I'm able to hand over some of the more stressful things that I tend to absorb and he tends to let bounce off. I find myself walking out of rooms where yelling is happening, but responding to requests for conversation or play when they come. Last night the girl came to bed, said a bunch of rude things, but then played songs for me on her recorder and read me a bedtime story. I don't talk when she's being unpleasant, but thank her for the good things, like serenades and stories. This seems to be working.
Have realized many things -- may never get the affection from the kids that I crave or I might some day, but not in the near future. Or it might happen tomorrow. One never knows.
I can't hover around them hoping to make up for all the years they spent institutionalized and not receiving proper care. I can only create a calm, loving environment for them to develop and reinvent their own wheels. There is only so much I am responsible for.
I remembered Susan Sarandon's character in "Dead man walking" saying that a nun's job of loving everyone is work. I don't automatically love these children in my house, just by virtue of their being a) in my house and b) under my care. The bonds take years to develop and there is more annoyance than joy in most days, if I'm to be completely honest. We're working at it.
Oh, but when it comes... you'll hear about it!