Some Light Reading on Child Services

Hiya folks! It’s me Elizabeth Brico AKA Betty. I know, I know, I have not posted in farrrr too long. And I’m sorry to say, this won’t be a full post either. I have been doing a lot of work investigating various aspects of the child “welfare” system over the past several months, especially for my Reimagining Communities fellowship with the National Council and my journalism fellowship with Talk Poverty. I was recently in Washington D.C. speaking at Georgetown Law about the ways in which child services is not designed to help people with substance use disorders, and is actually harming families they claim to want to help. So, my message is gaining some traction, even while my own case continues to face the very corruption I am battling.

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A Post About Dissident Happiness II

When life is hard, think of the good--bettysbattleground.com

Dear person who read my 2017 post about dissident happiness today,

thank you. Every once in a while I check my blog stats and see what posts people are reading (by the way–where is my guest post about growing up with a bipolar mother, and my post about forgiving people who commit suicide re-blogged? They’re getting way too much traffic to not have links posted elsewhere). I saw that someone had read the blog post I made last year to celebrate the good things about the time while my court case with my abuser was going on. I’d forgotten about that post, and about my ability to be happy and positive during really dark times. Seeing that link and re-reading that post was really helpful, especially since I’m going through some fiercely dark times right now. So I’ve decided to do a round two, 2018 edition.

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My Life Is Falling Apart And It’s Not My Fault

If you’re looking for a picture, click here instead.

Part of living with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD)–at least for me–is kind of thinking everything is completely my fault, even when I insist outwardly that it’s not. Some of that comes from stigma. I may know I’m in the right, but when people who know I have PTSD treat me like I’m wrong just because I have PTSD, it’s hard not to internalize that.

But this time, it’s actually, undeniably not my fault.

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