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Jessica (continued)
My mother, an addict who traded sex for drugs, could not take care of my brother, sister, and me. We never had enough clothes or shoes, and had lice in our hair. We were abused. Sometimes caseworkers would come check on us, but we would lie. Kids get scared when they think they might be taken from their mother. At least we knew what to expect from Mom.
At thirteen, I couldn’t stand the abuse any more and ran away. Within six months my brothers and sisters were in foster care, and I began moving around again – first to a place where my friend’s brother lived, then to my birth father (whom I hardly knew), then to a shelter, and finally a group home. Regrettably, some of those situations were abusive too.
At the group home, where I spent my last three years in care, I had religious house parents who prayed a lot for us girls. I think those prayers took me a long way. I also earned my GED while living there and connected with some of the other girls. That was really nice. Holidays and special occasions, by contrast, were a nightmare. I was the only one in the home who had no family connections, so for holidays and other events I would go with a counselor or the house parents to their families’ homes. I always felt like I was a burden on someone.
During my time at the group home, I saw a therapist once a month for about an hour. But what a joke. Do you think I was going to dump all of my sad stories on a person I barely knew? She didn’t even seem sincere: most of the time I felt like I was going to some sort of interview.
My school counselor was a different story. She was really great. She always made sure she focused sorely on me during our hour. Sometimes we would just sit quietly if I didn’t want to talk. She knew that it would take time for me to trust her. So that’s what she gave me -- time.
Later in our relationship, my counselor even cried with me. Wow! Someone cared enough about me to cry with me about my problems. I really needed that. My counselor even offered me a place to stay when I aged out of the group home.
Once I turned 18, I lived with my counselor for about a year, but our relationship went sour. I was not dealing with my problems and went through a stage of acting out and lashing out at her. We parted ways, and though we’ve lost touch, I hope she knows that because she opened her heart and home to me, my life is much better now that it would have been if I had gone back to my family.
What if I had gone back to my old neighborhood? By the time I aged out, my mom was homeless and still on drugs. My stepfather was moving around too, sometimes to places with barely enough room for a bed. My brothers and sisters were cycling through foster homes. Had I gone “home” I expect I would have continued the cycle of abuse that has been in my family for generations. Scary as it sounds, I too might have started to depend on alcohol and drugs, and turned to prostituting and stealing to get by.
That’s not to say I didn’t have a few bad habits of my own. After leaving my counselor’s home, I went partying nearly every night. I was evicted from apartments, moved between jobs, and had ruined by credit in different relationships. Most of my friends were into drugs or addiction. Finally, desperate to belong to someone or something, I joined the army.
Two months into boot camp, I learned I was pregnant. I took the news hard. At this point in my life I had no tolerance for children. But God knew that the pregnancy was truly a blessing. My daughter, as it turns out, is the person who ultimately saved my life and helped me to break the cycle of abuse.
Since Nina was born, I have met amazing people who have shown me tough love while guiding me in a positive direction. They support me, and my daughter inspires me to keep going every day. She has also taught me that to take care of her I must take care of myself. One day at a time, I struggle to overcome my anxiety about holidays and being with a family, and to learn how to better manage my life.
Being a responsible adult has been an emotional rollercoaster. But it is fulfilling too, because I believe now that I can help my daughter to grow up much more happily that I did.
Based on my experiences, I want to say WE NEED TO TRY HARDER to:
- Keep brothers and sisters together in care. Sibling bonds can help children face the pain of family separation.
- Find permanent families for children who cannot return home. It’s bad enough that most kids in care already feel unwanted, just as I did. Children need to build positive long-term relationships so they can make good connections as adults.
- Treat kids in foster care as individuals instead of paper work. Realize that how you value or devalue a child can affect his or her life forever.
- Take time to listen. Invest time in showing children that they do matter. How can we help youth in care if we are too scared to get fully involved and spend quality time finding out what each child really wants out of life?
- Prepare teens in care for their future. Our ability to deal with daily struggles is not based on age but on the tools we have to help us make it. Teens in care need tools like support groups, counseling, extended independent living classes, housing and job assistance, and options like adoption. I had no clue I could be adopted. I would have considered adoption in a heat beat!
- Encourage children to reach for their dreams. Teach them the value of staying in school and being a good parent. Inspire them to break the cycle of abuse and neglect.
Take it personally. Children are the future, and their well-being is tied to ours. We must be a voice for youth in foster homes, group homes, and courts.
Please for the sake of the children and our future, we must try harder.
(Reprinted from Fall 2006 Adoptalk)
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