Sleeping Outside

There's no way you will ever get to sleep. The worn fabric of the moldy sofa chair you are huddled in feels like ice under you. Your jeans and sweatshirt do nothing to protect you from the wind. You want to sleep so badly! You want to go to sleep and forget that you are hiding behind an empty house up the street; having run out of your house away from your drunk mother. She never remembered what she did when she was drunk. She'd ask you who you had been fighting with again? when she saw the bruises on your face and neck. She never believed you when you swore to her that it wasn't you who was calling family services, that it was the people at school when they saw your face all fucked up. She never believed you and it would cause her to go off drinking again.
You want to forget that it would be hours until you will feel safe that she has passed out on the couch, having run out of beer. You want to sleep and dream that you are normal 13 year old girl, that you have your own room in a house that has all of it's windows. In your dreams, your house has heat and you don't have to walk to the neighbor's to use their shower in the window. In your dreams, your friends come over and spend the night, and your mother isn't drunk in the other room.
At least the foster homes were nice houses. I even had my own room in one. The last one I was in, and the best. Sandy was a great woman. I wish I hadn't lost touch with her. She treated me like a person, and it was a shame I spent such little time with her.
Sometimes people need to stop taking so many things for granted sometimes, you know? Things could be worse. I'm writing about some unawesome things that happened to me, but at the same time I know it could have been worse. My life was never in danger, except from my own hand. I survived, and I am stronger and smarter from it. Some don't even get their lives. Some are too small to defend themselves, and they fall victim to the hands of cruel individuals. (I read an article about a three year old who was killed by his foster parents when they wrapped him in a blanket, taped his mouth shut, and locked him in a closet while they went to their family reunion. Horrible thing. I have a three year old. It crushes me.)

Summer Vacation

Ah, summer break. In the days leading up to the last day before break, the minutes seemed like hours, and the excitement never went away. It was like Christmas, but it lasted for three whole months. I was always excited about all the time I would have for reading, and the time I got to spend with my mother. (When she was around.) What kid doesn't love their summer vacations?
A foster kid doesn't. School is your escape, the only place where you can at least blend in a little; feel less like an outsider. School keeps you busy. Helps you push aways the depression and forget how lonely you are. When you're in school you don't get called away from a quiet book to clean your foster parents' sons' room; a room you never even go in. When you're in school you don't have to hear the sons outside laughing and playing with their friends why you are picking their dirty underwear off the floor so you can vacuum it.
When you're in school, your foster father won't burst into the the room and tell everyone to get ready, "We're going bowling!" You won't rush to get ready, excited at the thought of getting to go somewhere, getting to do something! You won't have to swallow your tears and dignity as you are told that "This is a private family day, no one said you were going....", then you watch out the window while they fill the van with the children and their friends. Who needs the foster kid to take up space in the car when it's better deserved for one more of the kids' friends? After all, this is family day, remember?
When you're in school, you won't drip tears all over the Christmas gifts you were instructed to wrap while the family was out bowling with friends for "private family day".
School was my only shelter. I dreaded summer vacation; all those days with no solace from the realities of my life. No friends-I moved too much. Besides, foster kids can't be trusted. If they run away or get in trouble, the foster parents claimed they would get in trouble, so never let me go anywhere. They say these things right to your face-"No you can't get a ride from a friend to school! No telling what kind of people you hang out with! You're not getting me into trouble because you wanna run away! You can't trust a foster kid. Next thing I know you've robbed me blind and taken off with your 'ride to school." I was 16 years old. The school bus came at 5:45 and I got to school at 7:00, where I went to the cafeteria and waited until class started at 7:50. My "ride to school" was a friendly girl who lived nearby and used to ride he bus with me. She knew how much it sucked to have to get up so early for bus ride that was more than an hour, then almost another hour waiting for school to start. She just got a car, and offered to let me ride with her. I would only have to walk two blocks away and I wouldn't have to leave the house until 7:00! My foster parents didn't care. I was just the 'foster kid', and it didn't matter that I had never done anything "wrong" at their house. I never talked back, I hardly ever even asked to go anywhere (I already knew the answer!); all I did was read my books and do my chores. I never stole anything from any home I was in, I was never violent, I didn't do drugs or drink-what made me so bad?
It was because I was a 'foster kid'. I wasn't an individual; I wasn't even given the dignity of having a sex! It's so pathetic to say, but back then, being called the 'foster girl' when introduced in public would have stung a little less.

Guilt

When you're a 'foster kid', you feel guilty. All the time; about everything. It's your fault your parent(s) mistreated you. It's your fault they don't love you. It's your fault no foster homes want you. It's your fault the homes you do go to treat you differently, like you're nothing. It's your fault for everything that goes wrong in your life.
When you're a foster kid, you're not allowed to make mistakes like a normal teenager would do. One small thing could cause you to be 'grounded' for months and months. One small thing could cause you to be thrown into a different city, school, 'home', in the blink of an eye. You have to be perfect, to prove everyone wrong about you. They expect the worst from you. You have to try and show everyone that you ARE worth something, that there IS hope and promise in your future.
Then, when you do mess up, you hate yourself. Everyone is so happy that they were right about you. They look you up and down, sneering. They call your caseworker and speak about you like you're just an animal; like you're not even sitting there.
Your self loathing grows. Just when you thought you were going to make a change. Just when you thought you were going to have a little self-respect & dignity. Just when you thought you may be able to try and live a somewhat 'normal' life. What's the point, anyways? Everyone already know all about you. They've been down this road with other foster kids before. The kids think they are something special when they're worthless like any other. All foster kids have too much 'baggage' to be normal. There's no way they'll amount to anything; they can't be trusted.

They are all right about you, you realize. No one is ever going to love you; no one will ever want you. No ones cares about you,or what happens to you. The depression is deep. Suicide hasn't crossed your mind yet, but it's still early. You have many more years of hell to help you take the first step on that path.

My White Oleander: A Foster Care Nightmare

Being in foster care for any amount of time is an indescribable experience. No one who has not experienced it personally can ever understand what it's like to live in so many strangers' homes, the feeling of abandonment, the emotional & physical abuse, the loneliness; never having a place to call home. Not knowing if you will be in the same city the next week; let alone the same school. It's impossible to make friends when you change schools three times in one year. Besides, how can you explain to vicious teenagers that you live in a foster home because you were abused and the state took you away?

Holidays are the worst. My foster families had their 'own' kids as well, and well spoiled they were! You sit alone in a corner, trying to take the absolute slowest amount of time in opening every small gift while trying to choke back your memories of your family, no matter the dysfunction. You will totally break down if you have to sit there for another hour with nothing more to open, watching the 'real family' celebrate their holiday with mounds of gifts.
White Oleander is the only movie that I have ever watched in my entire life that mirrored my own life. When the movie was released in 2002, I would have been 20 years old, the same age as Astrid in the end. Maybe I didn't get shot, but mental abuse is just as ruthless in it's damage as physical.