A throw away kid...
This is my story as a foster child. I hope it helps someone understand us, especially the foster parent. I hope it makes the case workers really listen to us. I hope it changes the system, but I'm afraid it won't.
Me, before it all began...
Taken
Don't let me mislead you, I am not a child now, but I remember everything. I remember thoughts and feelings, I remember the looks and attitudes of those around me. I was a watcher, a silent, withdrawn watcher. In a way, I still am.I was taken from a stay in the hospital to the social worker's office. There I met my younger siblings, ( I was the oldest). I didn't know what was happening, but I don't think I cared at the time. I was already broken at this point. I had already shut down emotionally, a child in a box, detatched, going through the motions. I was 7 years old, and very small for my age.
I had no memory of the particular incident that put me in the hospital. It had just happened, and my mind protected me from the memory, it still does to this day.
Yes, we should have been taken.
Don't get me wrong, child services were right in getting us out of that home. It was horrible there. After my mother divorced my dad she married a psycho. No, really, he was clinically psycho. He was diagnosed with schizophrenia, and even his parents warned my mother to stay away from him. She didn't listen. She moved in with her very young 5 children. I remember so many horrible moments with that monster. So when I finally ended up in the hospital, it was good that we were immediately taken out of the home, but then came foster care. We don't like you, and we don't have to!
This is to all of the foster parents, we don't like you. Don't expect us to be grateful for what you are doing for us. What do we have to be grateful for, anyway? We were ripped from everything and everyone we know. We were thrown to you, and you want us to be grateful? We didn't choose you, and we know you don't love us. You are strangers, you are dangerous, you are another set of adults we have to listen to, another set of adults who can hurt us. You have power over us, and we are helpless. Our life lays in pieces around us. We are shattered, damaged, broken. Don't expect us to be grateful. For those who tried, we remember you well.
Of all the foster homes I've been in, one stands out as a shining example above all the others. They were an older couple in Eclectic, Alabama. I only remember their last names, the Hayes, and their son was the local pastor of the church we lived near. This was the first foster home, and I wish we could have stayed, but tragedy struck the family, and then we were gone. I think Mr. Hayes died, which is why we had to go.Let's not focus on that though, but on how great this couple was. First of all, they NEVER hit us. They just talked to us, and tried to teach us. What matters most is they never hit us, or yelled at us.
We had routine. Everything was structured, and we knew what to expect every day. Don't you see how important that is to us? No surprises, no chaos, no changes. At least while we were with them. I remember regularly eating pancakes for supper and watching Kung Fu on TV. It didn't matter that I didn't understand the TV show that well, it was the tradition of it that was comforting.
The one thing I loved there was swinging on the porch swing and singing. I rarely talked, rarely smiled, but I would sing. It was freedom! It was expression! My siblings would join in, and you clapped for us! You smiled at us. You made us feel special, and you didn't take our song from us.
They NEVER hit us, did I say that already? Yes, it's that important. We know pain, you can't hurt us anymore than we had been hurt already. Does it make you feel better when you make us cry? That is what we've been taught. The Hayes never hurt us or yelled at us. I think they really understood. They were wise and patient. They were good. I truly honor their memory. They were the only ones...
The Worst
We don't like you, and we don't have to. We really don't like you, and we know you don't like us, you just like the dollar sign that comes with us.I won't give their name, because I don't want to hurt their relatives, but they lived in Red Hill, Alabama. They ALWAYS hit us. Many times. My brother got the worst of it. He was willful. He was only 6 years old. He was a boy without love. Don't you understand that? Why did you make him work so hard? HE WAS ONLY 6 YEARS OLD! He had to feed all the animals before school. A lot of animals for a 6 year old, even horses. He would get the switch if he missed the bus. He would get the switch if he couldn't feed all the animals. He would get the switch for so many things. You taught him anger. You taught him hate. You broke him, and he stayed that way.
I WAS ONLY 8 YEARS OLD! I remember all the work. Washing handprints off the walls. Polishing your silver. Cleaning your oven. Stepping on tiptoes to hang out your laundry. Staying up after you've gone to bed so I could iron your clothes. Washing your dishes. Vacuuming your whole house, upstairs and down. I didn't want to get hit. I still did, and I can't remember why. You made a game of it, jump the switch. We would be lined up, the youngest is 3 years old. Jump the switch while it tore at our ankles and bit into our legs. You enjoyed it.
Why else would you do it? You were paid to hurt us. We stayed with you the longest, and we paid for it.As if that weren't enough, you made us sing. Wasn't that so cute, 5 little kids singing for your guests. You took the one thing that belonged to us, our voices, and made us entertain your friends. We don't like you or your friends. You sold our voices to your friends.
All the work, all the pain, all the misery, and we never said anything. We learned it didn't matter. We learned there were consequences when you talk.
It's Grandma!
I remember it being an unusual day to start with. We were going to the store! This didn't happen often, going out. It was a thrilling event, and we were somewhat excited, or at least as excited as troubled children can get.We arrived and were on our best behavior. Our eyes scanned the aisles, looking for things children look for. Candy, toys, soda, GRANDMA! It was grandma! Our grandma! She was here! We ran to her screaming her name, which was, of course, grandma, and she bent down and scooped us into her arms. We felt love like nothing we've felt before. Our wonderful grandma tried to sneak us out of the store, which was impossible since we made such a ruckus! Instead of being rescued, a man in uniform was called and our grandma was forced to let us go. What started out as a wonderful day became a day of sadness and loss.
Gone
Together Again
We all got into the car, my two other siblings and I. We went to another home, and the two little ones were there. I remember seeing them, but I was so locked within myself, that I didn't react to their presence. Just standing there, maybe I said "Hi", I don't know. I had to sever the connection to them, because they could leave again. I severed the connection to all my siblings. I existed with them, I didn't live with them. I just stopped living altogether.
It sounds cold, heartless, selfish, I know. I wish I had been stronger, but I was just a kid. I was the oldest, and they looked to me for strength, but I was so dead inside. Oddly enough, they still looked to me when something different happened, something good, something bad, anything. They all looked to me for...what? I don't know. Perhaps they saw my detachment as strength, but it wasn't. It was merely survival.
The Visit With Our Real Daddy
We were ushered into the social worker's car. This usually meant that we were going to stay with a different family, a different set of rules, a different lifestyle, everything different. We were taken to grandma's house! What? Can we stay? Is our nightmare over? Do you know what made this better? Daddy was there. Our daddy. Not someone else's daddy, not a fake daddy, not a foster daddy, OUR daddy! He should have gotten custody of us after the divorce. He could afford it, he had a good job, he worked for the Army Corp of Engineers, but we were given to our mother. Big Mistake. It didn't matter now, because it was daddy, and some woman.We stayed a few hours, and the dreaded social worker came back. So gullible we are, so naive, so young! We wouldn't get in the car, would you? But we were offered a soda. A soda? We were fooled into getting in the car for a soda? Yes. Oh, how young we were.
The visit with dad. I'm taking the picture. Notice my siblings clasping their hands?
Going Home For Real This Time
I remember standing outside with my siblings. That woman wanted to take our picture. That woman who is standing with my dad. We didn't know what was going on. We have become completely jaded by now. Never trust anyone again. Never. Adults lie. Adults hurt you. Adults are dangerous. Adults can make you do anything they want. Adults have complete power over you, and you are nothing. Never trust anyone. Ever.We went home, to my dad's house in Titus, Alabama, and that woman lived there too. My dad's new wife. Our step-mom. This will sound cold to those who haven't been there, but for a long time, our house was like another foster home. Do you understand? Another house, another set of adults, another set of rules. We were not normal children. We were not happy-go-lucky kids. At least not the older 3 of us. The 2 youngest don't remember much about foster care, but does that mean they weren't affected?
Rise Above or Fall
It wasn't easy for any of us. Not our father, who had to live with the knowledge of first, losing his children to the ex-wife, and then to foster care. A man denied custody because he was a man, and because he was single (wasn't that ridiculous). Not for our new mom, who had to be a mother to 5 troubled kids she had never met before.But especially not for us, the kids. This affected us for the rest of our lives. We know that bad things can happen no matter how safe you feel, or how good you are.
But you have a choice...rise above and become one heck of a strong person, or fall. No matter what you feel, no matter what people say, no matter what reasons there are, you can rise above. Don't you see? If you fall, if you let this beat you for life, they win, you lose. You are out of there, away from foster care, away from what put you in foster care, but you are still trapped. You are your own prisoner. Refuse to stay locked up. You have the power now. Don't let your past hurt you or turn you into a shadow of a person.
What I've Learned
I've learned not to sweat the small stuff. I really don't even sweat the medium stuff! It takes a lot to get me angry. I am very patient, and kind. I can be really compassionate and empathetic, but only to a point. I expect you to help yourelf. I expect you to be strong too. Don't whine on and on about how bad your life is. Is it really that bad? Don't tell eveyone your sob story because, let me tell you, someone out there can top it, and they don't go around expecting sympathy from everyone and their brother.I am also very logical. It took me some time to learn emotions, or rather, how to show emotion. I'm still learning. I still hide my true feelings a lot. A therapist called me Spock. He said he was amazed by my logic, good sense of self-esteem, but lack of emotional response. Honestly, I took it as a compliment.
I laugh at so many things, I laugh a lot! Laughing is something I had to learn. It was the easiest to learn. Not because my life is going great now, believe me, I'm struggling to pay my rent, but hey, I'm alive, I'm in control of my life. If I can't pay rent, I'll live in a tent! So what? Bathe in the river! Save up my pay checks and try again. My kids would like camping, I think. They could get used to eating tree bark. Okay, it's not that bad, but I am so hopeful, even when it seems there's no reason to be! I can hardly understand it myself, but I know just how bad it can get, and I know I am a survivor.
All those other emotions are the ones I still have to work on!
Your Thoughts
mistyblue75605 wrote...
Wow! Thanks for the story that was shared! I dont agree with the state that takes children and places them with foster parents that are just looking for a paycheck! How are the children better off? 5*'s!!!! I know this had to be hard!
Posted December 01, 2008
poutine wrote...
Thanks for making us understand what it means to be a foster child.
I never would have thought that you could have so much pain, I thought
that foster parents were good people.
Posted November 30, 2008
Billco wrote...
You've told your story well. I always wonder about all the pain we come across in our daily lives, but have no idea how much those people are hurting. Most people do learn how to keep it all in and move on. The hurt always lives inside to some extent.
Posted November 26, 2008
Little_Brother wrote...
Hey Sis!
This is Darrell, AKA "Little_Brother" I just wanted to say THANK YOU! for not only sharing our story to me but to everyone else out there who REALLY DON'T have a clue what it's like not knowing what you will be doing or where you will be from one day to the next!
You said [The 2 youngest don't remember much about foster care, but does that mean they weren't affected?] I think that we were affected by it, at least I was. To this day all I want is to be LOVED, truley loved. Not money, not fame or glory, not material things,or anything else....just LOVED!
I have a definition to that very powerful word "LOVE".....
"LOVE IS A GIFT WICH IS GIVEN YET RARELY RECEIVED"
I remember some things & some things that you wrote reminded me of the past.
Your right though, I don't remember much about my childhood, mostly because nobody will talk to me about it...it's PAINFUL I know.
I thank GOD above for inspiring you to write this about our lives, and I thank & love you.
Darrell
Posted November 23, 2008
clouda9 wrote...
Your heartfelt story shines with courage, conviction and love! Thank you for letting me in to learn more about you and our flawed foster system! ~Peace
Posted November 22, 2008
bdkz wrote...
What an amazing story. Thank you for sharing, you are an inspiration.
Posted November 22, 2008
ThomasC wrote...
You story is very touching! I am starring your page and giving you an Angel Blessing! Thanks for telling your story!
ThomasC
Posted November 22, 2008
awelldressedbullet wrote...
I can't even imagine, I am at a loss for words, but as I dry my tears, I just wanted to say thank you for sharing such a personal story and hope you continue to find the strength and courage to reach the inner happiness you most deserve. - Kathy
Posted November 22, 2008
Cari_Kay wrote...
Oh my goodness, what an absolutely amazing lens. I've worked with orphans overseas and I never take anything for granted when it comes to children. I know nothing you've shared surprises me but it does touch me immensely. I don't know if we will become foster parents or not one day, but, if so, your story because a piece in the fabric of our home's quilt.
Thank you.
Posted November 20, 2008
Our first Easter with dad and new mom. I'm the girl on the left (in the back).
