Friday, July 29, 2011

LA news

I have much more serious things to talk about but the news in Los Angeles really cracks me up.  It's not at all what the news is like in Arizona.  They have a guy here who dances while he tells the weather.  He's a dorky middle aged white guy that dances to hip hop while he tells you the weather.  It's stupid but hilarious.



What's considered news here is also very different.  There is celebrity gossip.  If there is any kind of police chase they disrupt all the programing to watch it.  I was watching TV last night just for background noise while I worked on some drawings when the breaking news caught my attention.  It seriously made me laugh.

Breaking news!  A crowd got rowdy.
Wow, that's a HUGE crowd in the street.
This is serious people!
Count Smokula is very upset about all the shenanigans! 

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

im not really sure what to call this...overly emotional crap i guess

I've been moving and feeling overwhelmed with it all. I wish I was able to just go with it like I used to be. I feel so weak emotionally these days. I literally couldn't focus on anything this whole weekend. I lost my keys a million times and they were always on the hook. I lost my phone, my wallet, my car, my computer, my mind. My gf would talk to me and I would hear her and not process what she said until she said it like ten times.

I'm feeling pretty sad today. I don't know it its the moving, the lack of sleep, the physical labor, or just being sad. I'm just really missing people today and wish I could call and tell them to come check out my new place with a yard. I just don't know why its so easy to get rid of me.

Allowing people from my real life to read my blog was a huge mistake. Calling people from my real life when I was in the hospital for trying to kill myself was a huge mistake. Actually believing I found a family was a huge mistake. I'm just not capable of being in a family. Families don't want me. My girlfriend wants me but not families. I'm just not the type that a mother can love.

I don't know if blogging is so good for me either. The negative comments are hard to take no matter how I try to handle them. I feel a little rejected when my readers go away. I want to be totally honest and open but then I worry that I sound too whiney or full of self pity. I thought writing this blog would help me to better understand myself. Some people tell me its good for me and some people tell me its a bad idea.

Its been so long and I still feel so...heavy and crazy. I'm starting to think I won't ever get better. I used to so strong and never cried and now it seems like I'm always crying. I didn't hear back from the one clinic I was trying to get into so I guess they don't want me there. My therapist said she wouldn't treat me unless I went to DBT so I guess I don't have a therapist anymore either.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.7.4

Friday, July 15, 2011

celebrating her terminated parental rights (TPR)

A woman reappeared in my group therapy program today.  She's the one who had her son removed by CPS.  She came back to group because yesterday she was TPRed and she was "having violent thoughts about hurting a lot of people" so she came back to partial "so she didn't do anything stupid."  It's hard for me to sit in group with her for a lot of reasons.  She is constantly interrupting the therapist and giving advice to other patients when it's not really appropriate.  When someone interjects while she's talking, she will literally put her hand up and make this very loud grunting kind of shushing sound.  Basically I find her annoying and I'm pretty tolerant of many different personalities.  I was the group home kid that always got stuck with the roommates no one else liked, but it didn't bother me too much.  I'm sure her situation effects my feelings toward her though.

She talks about foster care a lot, but like my mom, she is always the "victim of the system."  She talks about how the social workers and judges are all out to get her and make her life impossible.  She never talks about what is best for her son or even how he is doing.  Everything is ALWAYS about her.  Just like my bio mom.  She kept talking about how her son's foster parents, if they adopt him, are going to change his name.  I understand how that might be hurtful to her, but she named her kid something extremely ridiculous.  I would change his name too. 

Today she would not stop talking about her TPR.  She hijacked every group that she was in and talked about foster care, social workers, TPR, foster parents and how they've all gone out of their way to be mean and hurtful to her and how they all make her angry.  These group therapy sessions are not really like therapy.  They are more like classes where the therapist teaches you skills.  Sometimes we talk about personal stuff and give advice and support but that's not what most groups are like.  Hearing her talk about her son and foster care is really really hard for me.  I know it's not about me, but something about her really reminds me of my mom.  It's even harder for me when the group gives her so much sympathy and support.  I just want to scream "HELLO, THEY AREN'T GIVING HER SON BACK TO HER FOR A REASON!  HE WAS TAKEN AWAY FOR A REASON!!  I have to quietly leave group when I can't handle it anymore.

During CBT group she said she was thinking about the fact that she wouldn't get her son back and how she now sees the whole thing differently.  "Now I don't have to worry about changing diapers, going to doctors appointment, waking up early, feeding him, or any of that kind of stuff.  I can just let them take care of all that.  Let them go through the terrible twos and all that mess.  I'm free to do whatever I want to do.  I can sleep in as late as I want to.  I can eat what I want to.  I can go out if I want to.  I can have sex with whoever I want to.  I've been looking at this all wrong.  Now I have the opportunity to just take care of myself."  I burst into tears and couldn't stop.  I left the group and went to the bathroom where I cried.  I cut myself but I wasn't careful enough and it was bleeding a lot. Wads of paper towels weren't stopping it and soon the majority of my pant leg was covered in blood.  My care coordinator (my social worker) kind of freaked out and made me see the nurse.  The nurse said I might need stitches if it doesn't stop bleeding soon.  I had to call my girlfriend to bring me a pair of pants and it stopped bleeding.  I am so upset that this woman is relieved and happy that her son is no longer hers.  Is that how my mom felt when I was taken away?  I think it probably is.  Was my mom happy that I wasn't hers anymore?  Did my mom celebrate too?

Monday, July 11, 2011

Why can't I deal with things like a grown up?

not my car
Last week someone left an anti gay note on my windshield and smashed house light bulbs all over my car.  I don't know why.  I don't know why so many of my Orthodox Jewish neighbors hate me.  I don't know what I did/do to them.  Instead of being calm and rational about the whole thing.  I went upstairs into my apartment, locked my door, went to bed, and called in sick to my program because I was too scared to be outside.  I stayed in bed all day and cried.  And then I got another note on my car today but this was just a guy asking if I wanted to sell my car.  I still freaked out. 



Tonight I was taking my dogs on their nighttime walk at 10pm when a gray haired man approached me quite quickly.  My heart started pounding, I started sweating, and was starting to have a hard time breathing.  At first he was yelling at me about dog feces on the lawn of his apartment building but I don't know why because my dogs didn't poop and I always carry rolls of little purple, biodegradable, lavender scented bags to clean up after my dogs.  He started yelling at me louder, I'm not sure if it was about the same thing or something else.  I pretty much just froze.  All I could hear was my heart pounding in my ears.  I remained silent and then started to walk away, slowly at first, then as fast as I could without actually running.  He followed me down the block, still yelling at me.  I began to feel dizzy.  I was shaky, and I couldn't hear very much.  Then I started going places in my head I don't want to go.  I dropped Cooper's leash and he ran up to the man and barked at him.  He does that to a lot of men at night.  I left my dog and kept walking.  Luckily Cooper followed me home.  Now I'm sitting in my apartment, shaking, sweaty, and barely able to breathe.  I think my blood sugar dropped (I have hypoglycemia) and I drank a glucose shot, but I don't feel better yet.  Why can't I deal with things like a grown up?  Instead I abandoned my dog and ran away and freaked out like a little girl.  I just left my dog.  What if he ran into the street or the man did something to him?  I'm a crazy wimp and a freak.  What is wrong with me?

Friday, July 8, 2011

The loneliest children in the world

The Loneliest Whale in the World.  By Eric Bowley
In 2004, The New York Times wrote an article about the loneliest whale in the world. Scientists have been tracking her since 1992 and they discovered the problem:
The Loneliest Whale in the World.
In 2004, The New York Times wrote an article about the loneliest whale in the world. Scientists have been tracking her since 1992 and they discovered the problem:
She isn’t like any other baleen whale. Unlike all other whales, she doesn’t have friends. She doesn’t have a family. She doesn’t belong to any tribe, pack or gang. She doesn’t have a lover. She never had one. Her songs come in groups of two to six calls, lasting for five to six seconds each. But her voice is unlike any other baleen whale. It is unique—while the rest of her kind communicate between 12 and 25hz, she sings at 52hz. You see, that’s precisely the problem. No other whales can hear her. Every one of her desperate calls to communicate remains unanswered. Each cry ignored. And, with every lonely song, she becomes sadder and more frustrated, her notes going deeper in despair as the years go by.
Just imagine that massive mammal, floating alone and singing—too big to connect with any of the beings it passes, feeling paradoxically small in the vast stretches of empty, open ocean. She isn’t like any other baleen whale. Unlike all other whales, she doesn’t have friends. She doesn’t have a family. She doesn’t belong to any tribe, pack or gang. She doesn’t have a lover. She never had one. Her songs come in groups of two to six calls, lasting for five to six seconds each. But her voice is unlike any other baleen whale. It is unique—while the rest of her kind communicate between 12 and 25hz, she sings at 52hz. You see, that’s precisely the problem. No other whales can hear her. Every one of her desperate calls to communicate remains unanswered. Each cry ignored. And, with every lonely song, she becomes sadder and more frustrated, her notes going deeper in despair as the years go by.
Just imagine that massive mammal, floating alone and singing—too big to connect with any of the beings it passes, feeling paradoxically small in the vast stretches of empty, open ocean.

I came across a story of a whale who can't be with other whales.  The other whales can't understand her.  She doesn't speak their language.  She doesn't know how to be with other whales.  I want so badly to find this whale and save her.  I understand her.  I know her.  I am her.  Well a slightly smaller human version of her anyway.  I am this sad baleen whale who doesn't have a family or a tribe.  I am this sad baleen whale that cannot speak the same language as everyone else so I'm easily left behind and forgotten.  She's invisible to other whales.  I feel like I've always been invisible to families.  And there are thousands more out there just like me.  Thousands of lonely wandering souls dying for love and family but they remain invisible to the rest of the world.  Lets be honest, older foster children and former foster children ARE invisible to families and the rest of the world.  When you see ads for future foster parents, they usually have pictures of babies or young children on them.  You rarely see them with pictures of kids over 8 much less with teenagers. 
No one wants to know the truth about children in foster care right here in the US.  No one wants to know that American children are being abused, neglected, starved, raped, murdered, rejected over and over.  That only happens in third world countries, right?  WRONG.  It happens to American children too.  No one wants to think about 18 year old kids being thrown out of foster care without a family or any kind of support.  They'd rather blame the poor and the homeless people for being lazy or the criminals for being bad people, or the mentally ill for being crazy.  No one wants to think about where those people have come from or why they are living they way they are.  No one wants to think about the fact that many of them are former foster children who never had a chance in life.  No one wants to think about how many foster children are actually "lost" in the system, meaning no one knows where they are.  No one wants to think about how many remain lost after the system.  No one wants to think about how many foster children die in the system.  No one wants to think that some foster parents can be extremely abusive, neglectful, drug addicts, alcoholics, pedophiles.  No one wants to think about that fact that some foster parents ARE only in it for the money.  No one wants to think about how adoptive and foster parents can get rid of their children so easily.  Adoptive parents can "disrupt" their adoptions because they are tired of being parents to that child.  They'd rather blame the child than the parents that threw them away.  They'd rather "re-home" the child like you re-home a difficult dog than find a way to help their child.  You can't throw away your bio child no matter how difficult or troubled they are, so why is it different with children adopted from foster care?  No one wants to know that a child can be bounced around 42 times in 18 years in foster care.  No one wants to know that foster children are thrown away over and over again.

And then when foster children reach that magical adult age of 18 they are "set free" without any kind of support system or knowledge on how to manage life.  No one taught me how to manage money.  No one taught me how to deal with legal documents like leases.  No one taught me how to find money for college.  No one taught me how to shop for food.  No one taught me how to pay bills.  No one taught me how to keep myself safe from bad people.  No one taught me how to juggle school, social life, and a job.  No one taught me how to be responsible.  No one taught me how to buy a car.  No one taught me how to find resources for myself.  No one taught me how to make friends.  No one taught me self respect.  No one taught me that I'm a good person.  No one taught me how to handle Christmas when the dorms shut down and everyone goes away leaving me in a very dark quiet building all by myself or living in my car if the building wouldn't let me stay.  I would roam the streets at night looking at all the pretty lights and families celebrating together through windows.  No one taught me how to handle parents weekend at college or all the questions about my parents and where I grew up.  No one taught me how to survive being unlovable and invisible to the rest of the world.  No one taught me how to survive the emptiness that consumes you after foster care.  No one taught me how to deal with the constant rejection I lived with as a child, or the constant rejection I'd live with as an adult.  No one taught me how to be with people.  No one taught me how to attach.  No one taught me how to be happy.  No one taught me how to survive.  No one taught me how to feel and manage my gigantic feelings.  No one taught me how not to hate myself.  No taught me how to find love and family.  No one taught me how to cope with life.

I think the people who send me angry emails and leave not so nice comments are some of those people who would rather just pretend that I am a horrible storyteller...  That people like me don't exist and that foster care is a magical healing place that saves children from horrible people.  People do not want to know what happens to American foster children because then they will feel guilty and no one wants to feel guilty.  It's easier if you just pretend it doesn't exist then you don't have do anything about it.  It's easier if you just pretend WE don't exist. But we do exist.  Foster care is creating thousands of scared, damaged, angry, lonely souls who can't speak the same language as the rest of the world so we end up drifting around searching for love and family.  We end up searching for "home" for the rest of our lives and never finding it.  No one will ever see us because we will forever remain invisible unless people choose to notice and change what the government is doing to it's most vulnerable children.  The statistics for former foster children are bleak, but they are not just crazy, lazy, homeless, drug addicts, and criminals.  They are products of the American foster care system.  They are scared, sad, lonely, damaged people.  They are products of YOUR government and your tax dollars.  So stop allowing us to be invisible.  Open your eyes and really SEE what's happening to children in your country.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Just random updates

I'm finding it really hard to write and keep up with friends.  I can't write people back, read people's blogs, or call people back.  I don't know why.  It's not that I don't want to write or call people.  I really do and I always mean to get back to them, but I never do.  I'm even finding it hard to keep up with my own blog.  All I want to do now is lay in bed.  Maybe I will always feel this way.  I hope I don't always feel this way.  

I went camping by the Kern river this weekend.  I had a good time even though it was a million degrees outside.  The dogs had a really great time and are still exhausted today.  I didn't watch fireworks last night because I was just too tired and felt too bad.  I put sunscreen on like every five minutes but I have that hot and tight skin feeling today.  I hope it doesn't turn into a sunburn.  I burn so easily I wore long sleeves the entire trip, but I think I might have gotten burned through my clothes.  How is that possible?

I met my new landlords this weekend because we were driving by them on the way to go camping.  Lets just say they are um...not all there and kind of crazy.  I'm glad that they live so far away.

I went up to 100mg on my Lamictal and ended up getting a rash on my hands and arms which is the bad kind of rash, so I am now back down to 50mg.  I felt pretty bad this weekend despite the fact that I was surrounded by fun people and I was camping.  I don't know if I felt bad because of the med decrease or something else.  Either way it sucked to go camping with people I really like and feel kind of apathetic about it.  I was happy to be with friends, but normally camping seriously excites me.  The photos of our camping trip have made me feel so bad about myself though.  I hate myself.  Not only am I hideous on the inside, I'm just as hideous on the outside.  

I am a little bit proud of myself about something though.  My brother, the one who is constantly in and out of federal prison, wrote me on Facebook this weekend.  He is a lot like my mother where he writes me sweet emails and then follows them with really really mean emails.  The title of the email was "I am worried about your soul."  The part of the message you can see before you open it was about how I am a horrible sister and sinner.  I opened the email, was about to read it and then something clicked in my head.  I covered the text with my hand so I couldn't see what he said and just pushed delete.  It's gone forever.  There was a slight panic when I did it, but I still did it.  I deleted the email without reading it!  I never thought I'd be able to do that.