I have tried to tell myself it doesn’t matter.  I’ve tried to say “I don’t care”  I’ve tried to believe the Social worker saying its not a big deal.  BUT IT IS!!  She is coming here today for a home “visit”.  I repeatedly used the term “inspection” and the social worker was uncomfortable!  SHE didn’t like it!

OMG.  A visit is where you have a cup of tea, some muffins or cookies or something and talk, chat, cry, laugh and VISIT!  That is NOT what she is coming here to do.  She is coming here to walk through my home and make sure “it’s a safe environment”.  That’s is a fucking inspection.  She is INSPECTING my home.  And I can’t believe that she thinks calling it something else will make it any less foreboding.  SERIOUSLY?!

I know she’s not “the housekeeping police”.  But even if I have my in-laws coming I would want things all tidy and vacuumed.  But at least with “guests” you can shut off rooms (like my office or the kids rooms) and not let others see them.  She will be required to come and look at it all.

I know I have nothing to hide.  I know it shouldn’t matter.  I’ve been TRYING hard to believe that I don’t care what she thinks. That its a stupid formality.  So why did I cry myself to sleep?  Why did I wake up half a dozen times? Why am I so freaked out?  Because somebody else is coming to judge me?!  And I don’t think I measure up.  I WANT to have a perfect home. But I don’t.  So my “you are a failure” message is resounding in my head as I scrub the kitchen floor with the mop and realizing that the cupboard fronts are dirty and will have to stay that way.

I have a little over an hour.  I still need to have my shower.  Get my son to unload the dishwasher, so i can load it again. (first I have to get my son out of bed – and since i heard him cleaning at 5am – I suspect he hasn’t had much sleep yet).  My daughter doesn’t care.  She is quite content that her room is a disaster.  I helped her for 2 hours yesterday. But a stranger seeing it now, won’t know how much worse it was!  Its awful.  My office is really bad.

ARGGHH.  I wanted to let this “visit” (such a joke) just slide off my back as no big deal.  But it IS!  And I’m STRESSED. and somehow all this is being done to HELP me.  Ok sure.

The system is so messed.  And its making me a mess.  My anxiety is peaking.  I’m even contemplating taking an Ativan.  So how is this a good thing?! How is this HELPING me?

If the social worker found it made her uncomfortable when I kept saying inspection, then she needs to stop for a moment and THINK.  “if I’m uncomfortable and I have all the power, how must the client be feeling?”   Cause its a WAY bigger deal to me.  She is doing a job.  She will write a report.  I have a basket of laundry to fold, dishes to do, rooms to clean and all of it is on display for her to write about!  ARGHH!

I’m soooo stressed out.  I don’t want my Granny panties to be inspected or ‘visited’ .  I want to be left alone!

And that’s me.  GP.