I stood in the sliding glass window, hopeful and anxious. I watched the white bus pull up and Harper opened the side door.

The white bus wasn't your typical bus. It was a versatile vehicle. The Band used this bus to transport children to and from school and daycare, transport elders on their shopping days to Chilliwack, transport youth on their outings and other things that required a certain amount of seats. I was always amazed with the use of this one vehicle and wondered how the driver managed to pull all these things off and still be on time for the children.

I watched Harper pull out one child after another, it is not the drivers responsibility to 'handle the children'. He's just the driver. Harper pulled out five children today, and not one was Heather.

I felt the breath I held slowly wriggle it's way down to my throat. It left a vibrated brain in its wake as the force pushed past the lump in my throat. The rippling feeling pushed itself into my lungs and stomach. I felt sick. I wanted to throw up the moment the air bubble hit the bottom of my stomach. My lungs felt like they were caving in. And my heart.......I could feel the pounds of an irrational drum banging against my chest. Thump...thump...POW..thump..............POW....thump...thump..thump..POW. It left me no peace. My shoulders slumped forward and my head dropped. I gasped for air and fought for my life. I couldn't cry. I was at work. Dizziness swelled my head as my legs went numb. I was broken.

I hadn't felt like this since I was pregnant with Eve when Frank thought it would be a good thing to brag about his 'trophies'. His notches on the bed post. And compared them to me while I carried his baby. I was in love with him then. Afterward, I wasn't.

I kicked myself in the ass repeatedly. Hard. How could I be so stupid?! I knew she would do this to me! I KNEW she would hide my children from me!! And I still hope!! You stupid, niave bitch!

My face heated up and my cheeks were wet. No matter how hard I fought, tears still escaped their ducts. I staggered into the kitchen and fell into the counter. The strength in my legs had given way. My cell phone slapped onto the countertop and my arms were failing to hold my weight. I sobbed quietly.

The day was beautiful. No rain. I knew Harper would keep the kids outside for a short while. For this moment, I allowed myself to break. Maybe Ruby was right. I thought about her harsh and cold words earlier, if I wanted my kids or not, sitting on my pity pot, was that what I was doing? How do I get out of this to fight for my kids the way I had to?

I was backed into a corner with all this bullshit. I had to make a choice. Find my feet and punch, kick and claw my way out, or cower and curl up into a ball. I'm allowed my moments. But my moments couldn't be one long one that took over my life. I had to find the ground. How do I do this again? I was trained by Deborah to lie and manipulate my words. I was trained well. She also taught me to put on a mask to hide my true identity. She refused to have weak children. And I was one of the weaker ones. Always consumed by emotion and unable to stand my ground. Always so willing to bend backward so that others may use and abuse me. And I was okay with it. Why? I often wondered. I knew it was wrong so why did I allow it?

I looked around me and saw that I was nearly on the floor. My fingers were barely hanging onto the edge of the counter. Is this how desparate I allowed myself to be all these years? I asked myself. I forced myself to take a good look at me. Averting my eyes down, I was on my toes and nearly sitting on my heels. My knees were close to my chin. My back so tense that it ached as if it were what clung to the counter.

I looked at my arms, tense and shaking under the weight of my ass. My knuckles were white and my fingers were slipping.

This is what they want! They want me like this! I realized. I'm curled in a fetal position. I'm cowering in this corner. I grip the counter like I'm in denial. I was using Ruby as a scapegoat. I shook my head. I took a deep quivering breath and closed my eyes. I had a few minutes to get my shit together. I had to straighten and compartmentalize my thoughts.

What is the situation? I asked myself.

My oldest daughter made a complaint to MCFD. My children had been removed. I answered myself.

What am I risking? I asked myself.

My children. I answered.

How am I risking them?

They are still under my guardianship. If I don't do what needs to be done I can lose that.

What is the best approach?

Prove to MCFD and Deborah that I am not what they think.

Is this an attack or a consequence?

An attack.

How is it an attack?

Deborah wants my kids. Hers are getting too old. She's losing money. She wants my child tax. Nicole looks at me stereotypically. I'm a 'Rez mother'. Nothing more. She holds Deborah with a torch because she's white.

How is it not a consequence?

I have never hurt my children. Any mistakes I've made over the years with them I've admitted to and accepted the consequences. I've put in motion my plan to rectify said mistakes and work toward a healthier future for my kids.

What needs to be done to obtain that healthier future?

I need to get my kids back, commit to change and allow myself to be vulnerable.

How do I get my kids back?

I don't know.

HOW do I get my kids back?

I DON'T KNOW!!!! I argued with myself.  I looked around me again and found myself half way to standing. I had perched myself on the countertop. My legs were still weak. And became weaker with every panicked thought.

I always believed I had to be logical and rational in order to get anything done. Manage any problems.

Deborah's father had given me shit once when I was fourteen. He yelled at me for being depressed. Said it was a waste of time.

"What's the matter with you?!" He yelled.

I couldn't answer him. I was stunned stupid he actually yelled at me.

"Well don't you have an answer?" He bellowed in my face.

I blinked at him with saucer eyes.

He didn't blink at all. His big brown eyes glistened and bore through me. I could see clearly he wasn't stupid. His mask was that of an intelligent being. And he wore it intimidatingly.

"What's the matter with you?!" He yelled again.

I felt myself stammer internally. I couldn't even gurgle. I was scared.

He took a break from staring me down and looked away. He gave a slight shake with his head. His overweight body straightened then relaxed as he stood looking out the window of our trailer. With a heave he leaned into me again. Eyes boring through me, again.

"If you don't have answer then you have no good reason to be this way." The gruffness in his voice remained while the intimidation disappeared.

I felt my body relax.

"Think!" He yelled.

I stiffened again.

"I'm not mad at you Sam! I'm disappointed. As young as you are you think you're priviledged enough to feel depressed."

I blinked at him, amazed he knew how I felt. I could feel my body release relief. I didn't understand why he said I thought I was priveledged to feel depressed. How is depression a priveledge? I wondered. But I knew that he was not a man to waste time on trivial questions. He was the type to get shit done. I didn't bother to ask. That question would be more for his wife.

"You know what you do?" He asked.

I shook my head.

"You got a problem? You get rid of it! Don't waste your time dwelling over it!"

"What if my problem I can't get rid of?"

"Bahh!!" He waved the idea away with his hand and turned his head. He continued to lean in toward me, meeting me at my eye level.

I never believed him to hurt me. To strike out or lash out at me. But he was a big man with a prideful stature. He was well respected.....and feared.

"There is never a problem that you can't get rid of."

"I have a problem that I can't get rid of. I'm stuck with it." I insisted.

He blinked at me. "If it's family that's causing you problems then you get rid of the problems. A problem is never a person but the persons actions or words." He said quietly.

I frowned. I didn't understand fully what he was saying. "It's still a problem."

"You're right." He huffed. He straightened and looked out the window again thoughtfully. "So what do you do with a problem you can't get rid of?" He asked the window.

"Live with it." I shrugged.

"NO!" He barked at me, snapping his head back in my direction. "I refuse to accept you have to live with any problem." He snorted and turned to a chair. He gave a grumbling sigh as he sat in it.

I didn't move. I was in trouble for my feelings and I made him struggle to help me. If that's what he was doing.

"You have to see the problem for what it is. What are the facts? How do you deal with those facts? You have to think about what you can accept and not accept. If it hurts you, don't accept it." He struggled.

"I have to accept it because I have to live with it. I don't have another option." I sounded depressed.

"Stop that!" He barked at me without looking.

"What?" I asked innocently.

"Don't insult my intelligence or yours! You know what you're doing! Stop it! You are not priviledged enough to be depressed!"

I blinked. I still didn't understand what he meant by that.

"I'm sorry you feel the way you do Sam. But you have to deal with your problems. Chew it up and spit it out. Then stomp on it if you have to. Make sure that son-of-a-bitch NEVER gets up again!" He pointed his finger at me. I somehow found warmth in his aggressive tone. Maybe because I knew he did this because he cared. He jumped to his feet and leaned into me again.

"When I have a problem, I get rid of it!" He waved his hand aggressively to his left. "It's gone! I don't dwell on it. I get it OUT of my face! And that's what you have to do. If you feel you're stuck with it, you're not. Deal with it. I know your sister loves you."

At that moment I understood the confusion. He thought my depression was the cause of my sister, Brenda. It wasn't. It was Deborah. But I couldn't tell him his daughter was to blame for my depression. I felt it best to go with it. I didn't believe he could help me. His loyalty lied with his daughter and I was the outsider who helped myself into her home. I didn't belong.

"I don't want you to feel depressed again! No one else matters in this world except you. You are in control of your life. Now BE in control." He finished.

I nodded at him. I believed it best to agree. He couldn't have understood. Not with his daughter, the woman he raised, being the culprit.

I learned a lot from that moment. Facts. Facts were important. Facts were what mattered. Not depression. And if not depression then emotions didn't matter either. I trusted him and believed him. I was the one with the answers for myself. I was the one who could fix all of my problems. Not anyone else. Everyone else didn't matter. Just me.

I brought myself back to the issues at hand. My children. MCFD. Deborah.

How do I get my kids back? I asked myself again. This time I was ready to answer. And if I still couldn't answer then I didn't deserve my children.

I have to get my shit together. Do what they ask and offer to do more. Prove that I deserve my children and they had no right to do this. Make sure there is no way for them to do this again. I finally gave myself an answer. I was satisfied.

How do I do this?

Meet with Jason. Tell him that we want to see the kids. Offer him a working schedule. Inform him of my insecurities of this situation and keep walking with my head held up. Tell him of the programs and prove committment to them. Find out what they want for me to do. Be prepared to see a psychiatrist.

What will they demand?

Brad to go to anger management. Me to see a counsellor. Me to have a screening done by a psychiatrist. Couples counselling. Possible parenting programs.

How can you use this to your advantage?

Make an appointment with a doctor. Get a referral for the psychiatrist and tell them I need a screening done. Utilize my resources and find parenting programs that would help our situation. Do my homework on them and be prepared to convince them it's beneficial. Take Ruby up on her suggestions and take all of her programs. Get it straight and in order so it appears you have your shit together. Make sure you offer more than they ask before they ask. Knock them on their asses and leave them without an idea.

I looked around me again. I was on my feet and standing more upright. I leaned against the counter still but only with my hands. I closed my eyes and breathed.

What am I doing right now?

Working. Getting snacks ready for the 3's program and kindicare for today and tomorrow.

What am I doing after?

Going home to Brad and letting him know of mine and Ruby's plan.

What next?

Cleaning out my house and getting it ready for the kids to come home.

What if they don't come home?

NO!!! DO NOT do that to yourself! They are coming home.

Okay. What am I doing next?

Going to meet with Ruby to work out a schedule to see the kids and a plan of what we can do with them.

I huffed and gave myself a nod. My logical and rational side of my brain argued with my emotional side. The former always managed to settle the latter. But once in a while the latter was forced into swapping roles with the former in order to convince me of the right thing to do. But for right now, I had to finish preparing.

I wiped the tears away from my cheeks and took a few deep breaths to ensure it wouldn't quiver while I spoke to someone. I couldn't bear to have them see me as such an emotional wreck, especially the children. I couldn't allow them to see me so 'strong' either. I learned that how people see me is more important than how I see myself. Society and family ideations of me was what was real. Not what I really am or who I aspired to be.

Satisfied with my self talk I started back at work. Being sure to pay close attention to what I could feel, see and hear. I spent the rest of my work day paying attention to those things. Not realizing I was self-regulating. Time to get shit done and bring my kids home.