Every time I have started to journal this week, I stop. No matter what I write, I feel like a whiner. My kids are going through one of the most traumatic experiences a child faces. They will live their lives with a loss far more significant than my own. I feel deeply for them, and for losing the chance to complete a long-sought reconciliation. I feel guilt and regret for not being a better person than I could have been when responding to some of her situations. Regardless, What we face pales in comparison to the situationn their mom is living through right now. I know all too well that this scenario is her worst nightmare. I feel like there's nothing I can do to help other than supporting our kids. I have no legal rights or power to effect any change in her care or pursue options to get the kids allowed in to see her. Pre-covid, this would be a different story. It's inhumane, and I firmly believe this is stalling any progress she might make. Her worst nightmare is this isolation from her children.
I need to keep writing. I need it to work through this. I just feel like I'm complaining when I'm likely the lucky one here in comparison.