I keep trying to write even when it hurts. I keep trying to write about what hurts. To write about what hurts me and what is still hurting foster children today. I want to heal myself, but I also want to make a difference for those who are currently suffering in foster care. For those who will suffer when they age out. That’s why I started this blog. It’s for me and for them. I want the world to know what really happens to children in foster care in the United States. I want the world to know that the pain doesn’t go away just because you turned 18. The US tells the rest of the world how to treat and govern people yet the American government abuses, neglects and abandons its own children. I want the world to see what really happens to children in foster care. What really happened to me and what will really happen to more children if nothing changes.
There are those who have questioned what I have written in this blog. Some have said that my memories are flawed because they are the memories of a child. Some of have said that my mother could not have been as abusive as I say if her rights were not terminated until I was 8 years old. Some say that I make blanket statements and don’t show the other side of the story. I don’t write about how hard it is for biological parents to lose their children. I don’t really know what to say to those people. While I’m sure my adult mind would process what happened to me as a child differently than my child mind did, I have experiences, memories, the scars on my body and my soul as well as hospital records, police reports, and CPS records that verify that my memories are valid. My story is valid. My pain is valid.
This blog is not about what is right and wrong with adoption in the world today. This blog is not about the politics involved in adoption. It’s not about people who are angry and sad about being adopted or those who are angry about losing their children. This blog is about foster children. This blog is about growing up without a family. It’s about what happens when children age of foster care without a family. It’s about me and what I lived through. It’s about former foster children and those just entering the system. It’s about giving a human identity to the statistics. It’s not easy to put myself out here like this. It’s not easy to write my most painful and shameful secrets and feelings and put it up for everyone to see and judge, but I am doing it for the little girl I used to be and for the little girls and boys who will go through what I went through. Maybe many people don’t really want to hear what happens to children in foster care and when they age out without a family. All I can do is ask them to please not read my blog.
I write about my feelings today and my feelings when I was growing up because I’m twenty-something and I’m still struggling to survive. I’m twenty-something and I still want a family. I still want a mom. I still want to be adopted. I still want someone to want me, to keep me. I know it will never happen for me but the pain and yearning will never stop. It will never go away. Ever. The only thing I have ever wanted in life is a family and no amount of therapy, medication, or blogging can ever give me that.
I want to be a source of hope for the kids who are aging out of foster care but how do I do that when I feel so hopeless? I can’t even be a source of hope for myself. I have so many thoughts and so many words, but none of them are adequate to describe what it feels like to be born to a mother that doesn’t want you or love you and then to be stuck in a system of revolving families that reject you until you turn 18 and have absolutely no one in life. No words can adequately describe what it feels like to feel so unwanted and unloved your whole life. That the only constant in your life is that people always leave you. That is my experience. People come into my life, wait until I care about them, and then dump me. I know that people come and go in the lives of most people, but most people have a base of people that never leave them, of people that have always been there. People that know them and love them no matter what. I have NEVER had that. I will never have that. Too many foster children will never have that. That is why I write.