Just when you think things are crappy something comes along to slap you back in your box and say "Hey, chicky, be grateful for what you got, OK?"
Oh, alright, that's my weird-arse inner voice saying that and threatening to slap me silly six ways from Sunday when I'm in danger of wallowing in Mother Guilt.
And let me just say that inner voice sounds suspiciously like my mother in full flight.
Anyways...I got a call asking for help this morning; young teen girl, never properly assessed, getting further out of control (no drink or drugs involved) and socially bizarre behaviours attracting the attention of the law.
Stuff happened which I won't detail here as I don't have permission, suffice to say the mother was at her wits' end, had spent days in tears and was so tightly knotted up she had nfi which way to turn.
She'd tried to get her child assessed for several years but she had been actively discouraged in front of the child (and you know how bloody minded kids can get when they want to be contrary without needing even the tiniest bit of a nudge, hey?) so nothing had happened except for her daughter to get more and more out of control.
I did the only thing any fellow parent would do - I merely passed on the contact details of paediatrician, psychologist and psychiatrist we know and trust and apparently the poor woman just burst into tears.
It was the first straight answer she'd been given in 8 years of asking for help.