Open Poetry #12 |
Multiple Transitions: [for caring parents only] Well, for potentials also. |
lucky Senior Member
since 2000-01-17
Posts 1601Idaho |
Multiple Transitions: A Young Child’s Point Of View On Foster Care And Adoption ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ I want to talk with you about what it feels like getting ready to be adopted, when you are a little kid who has already had about a hundred mothers. When you can barely remember what your first mother smelled like. When everyone spoke a different language in the place where you were born than in the place you are now. When some of the people who took care of you were called “foster parents” and you didn’t know what that meant except some thing about they weren’t going to stick around long. When, in the process of being moved all over the place, you lost some of your brothers & sisters and a particular pair of shoes that felt just right & your absolute most favorite cuddly, & a certain place on the inside of your last crib where you used to scratch with your finger nail to help yourself go to sleep. Kids like me, see, don’t have families of our own. Because there’s something wrong about us. (I guess.) Or ‘cause there aren't enough to go around. Or some thing. And I probably won’t get one, either. Or if I do, will it be to late for me to believe that they love me, and are going to stay with me..? So...... I want to talk to you, Big People, about these things, even though I am not sure you are real interested. Are you the same Big People who keep doing these same things to me in the first place..? (Please don’t get offended if I talk to all of you at once: case workers, foster parents, judges, adoptive parents. I just need to say how it all feels to me, and sometimes I can’t get the cast of characters straight.) Some people say that my first parents shook me until my eye balls got loosened up, or they left me alone, or they gave me away, or they just ran away. I guess you think, because of that,,! I am supposed to “Not” miss them..? (because if I did it would sure make me lots more cooperative with all the plans you keep making for me.) Should I just say, “They did the best they could” so I’m not so ticked off and lonely and worried all the time about what the Big People are going to do next....? The truth is, I can’t do any of these things: I can’t forget. (Even when my brain does, my body won’t.) I can’t stop myself from yearning (even though later I will get quite good at playing games about this..) I’m not saying I was some cherished treasure or anything, in the family. But what were you thinking when you sent Big Men in uniforms to grab me out of my screaming father’s arms at eleven o’clock at night, scaring me to death..? Or when you sent me to a foster home with out telling them about the special ways I needed to be handled because I had never stayed any where long enough to get attached to anybody..? Or when they took me from those people who were so disappointed in me after a few weeks that they said I would have to be “disrupted” (whatever that means) So you sent me to a very nice family with an older foster child who was mean to little kids because we were weak and small. And so he pinched me a lot in secret. And pulled real hard on my privates in the middle of the night. And when that family got rid of me, and the next, and the next, did you think I was going to take it all lying down? Did you think I was supposed to just be sweet and adorable and ready to connect to another family who were going to throw me away..? (Could you have done that..?) After a while, I had just lost too many people that I might have cared about. I had been with too many “parents” who really weren’t, because they couldn’t hold me tightly in their hearts at all. None of you got how I was being changed by all these losses, (in my heart and in my behavior). After a while, I began to get some pretty bad ideas about how things work. And mostly those ideas said that I was, by that time, in deep doo-doo. I wasn’t going to let anybody like me. Not even me. And so, no, I won’t let you imagine even for a minute that I like you. That I need you, desperately. That I might ever grow to trust you... I am not, after all, a complete moron... Are you ready to have me not believe you? Are you ready for me to fight you for control..? Are you ready to hold me, and then hold me some more (when all the time I act like I don’t want you to at all)..? Are you ready to really stay with me, through a battle that last almost my whole growing up? Are you willing to feel as powerless as I do? What will you think when I say I don’t care a bit whether you go on vacation and leave me with Aunt Harriet, who I hardly know at all..? Then, when you come back, are you ready to deal with my taking a dump in front of your bedroom door every single day for three whole weeks..? You see, it is like this, Big People: I’m not stupid. I was not blind. I do pay attention, ‘cause it matters lots to me... And so when my first parents knocked me around or acted like I was invisible, or gave me to some one else to raise, or stood there screaming while you took me away from them, I noticed. And when no one came to take their place, I noticed that, too. And when the orphanage didn’t last, and the first half—dozen foster families didn’t last, something started happening to me. A little bit of my spirit started to die. For some reason, then, I started pulling out my eyebrows. (I’m not sure what that has to do with my spirit dying.) I agree that it doesn’t make much sense for me to join in with all the other people that have hurt me, by hurting my self. But I do it any way. So I bite on my hand, or dig at my face, or make a real bad sore on the top of my head from scratching myself. I pull out clumps of my hair, and sooo the kids at preschool laugh, and Big People have an odd looks on their faces when they see me. I masturbate a lot to comfort my self. (I even let their dog lick me down there.) They say that sometimes I try to touch other kids down there. Sometimes I run into the arms of strangers, like I have known them forever, and like I don’t actually care anymore who I am safe with or not. (Am I safe with anybody..? Does it matter any more..?) Did I mention how much I am growing to hate smallness, and weakness, and defenselessness? It’s getting so the only thing I know how to do is to be just as tough as I can, and to try to rub out smallness and weakness wherever I see them: In the kittens that get hung by the clothesline in the backyard & squished with a tennis racquet. In the babies in my recent foster homes who turn up scratched. In my own Self, which I attack, particularly when I am feeling small or scared, and I need to beat myself into more toughness. And as little parts of my spirit keep dying, will it surprise you that I’m not exactly going to be overjoyed when you finally say you have permanent parents for me..? Do you honestly think I am going to say, “Oh, I get it. You were just kidding all those other times, but this time you really mean it”? And, so, do you want to hear something funny..? Just about the time I am ready to get what everybody thought that I needed (parents who are actually never going to leave me) I’m going to get just a tad weird. I’m going to start banging my head more than I did before. I might start acting like a baby again and, even if I had gotten a little bit comfortable with my latest “parents” I’m going to go back to stiffening my body, and screaming at night, and doing everything I can to tell you that I don’t want you to love me. I can’t stand all this talk about “permanence” & “adoption.” I will make you sorry you ever thought about trying to get close to me. I will make you feel almost as helpless and small as I have usually felt. So you are wondering what I need..? Are you wondering what I would do about all of this if I had the power? First of all, it would help a lot if you would start with one simple, clear commandment to yourself: Never forget that I am watching. Never forget that every single thing you do matters immensely to me, (even when I work like crazy to make you think that it does not). And I will remember. You may be able to get away with treating me as if I am invisible for a while (perhaps long enough to “disrupt” me or move yourself to a different casework job). But, in your heart of hearts, you know: I was there, watching, I was having deep feeling about what was happening to me & I needed some one to act as if it mattered, hugely. Second, don’t imagine that I will ever stop yearning for my birth family (even though, as in other things, I will pretend otherwise). Help me find some way to keep a connection with them, even if I never see them again. Bring out pictures, or a Life Book and hold me while I rage or sob or stare, or all of these at once. And understand that none of this is a reflection on you. Don’t be surprised when I come back from a visit with them peeing my pants or throwing tantrums in the bath that night. I told you: things matter to me. So I am going to have feelings about things that matter to me. Third, it would help a lot if you would make the decisions that you need to make and stick with them. Some days I think my mind is going to explode because I know something is going on in my life but I can’t tell what it is: later I’ll learn that there was a court hearing that day and everybody in my life was wrought up and then it was “continued” (whatever that means—except mostly that nothing is getting decided, and I still don’t have a family). I don’t get to make the decisions. You do. So have the courage to make them. So that I can get a life. Fourth, it would mean a lot to me if you would take good care of my foster family. They have their hands full. Sometimes they don’t know what to do with me. so make sure that someone is there to answer their questions, to encourage them, to help them understand me better. You won’t like what will happen if I keep getting disrupted, and the only way I can think of to prevent that is to take extra good care of the people that are taking care of me. So have I told you anything that you wanted to know..? Have I helped you understand how we feel — all of us kids who fell into the world of foster care and adoption..? I know it is a burden for you to thing so carefully about me, and I know you might get a little nervous to realize that I am watching, and affected by all that you do. But you won’t be sorry if you take me seriously. Someday, see, I will be Big People. Give that a thought. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ This was presented to Rosemary and myself as a graduation present from our favorite Instructor at college this year. Unfortunately we graduated. (LOL) But really, there’s so much left to be learned in life, and RJ & myself could go to school forever. Just to be ever learning. Do you want to donate..? We’re located at (—LOL—) moving. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Thank you all so much for the read. Your all so wonderful. Until we meet again, Cep on writing. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Wilfred Yeats Well Bill, you wanted to know if I/ we we’re into “teen” psychology..? No... We’re just little people, schooling and learning what Big Folks say. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ There’s so many stories to tell and share I Love You All — Dale Writing isn't just something I do, it's something I am. To write of feelings that touch all hearts in some manner is my delight. -Marge Tindal [This message has been edited by lucky (edited 03-22-2001).] |
||
© Copyright 2001 Dale W. Gwaltney - All Rights Reserved | |||
Wilfred Yeats Member Elite
since 2000-08-04
Posts 2704Wilmington, Delaware |
Some great commandments here - along with incredible insight - A monologue you could deliver to parents to be, (both birth, foster AND adoptive) - which would leave many speechless - (at least for some moments ) maybe one more thought might be added: becoming parents does NOT come with an instruction book, just as puberty does mot come with chasity belts or condoms ~sigh~ Lest you miss it -hiding btween the lines - this is a great piece of writing ~s~ |
||
lucky Senior Member
since 2000-01-17
Posts 1601Idaho |
Thanks Bill... It's been a long year Bill... To many assignments, not enough research... We're bushed. Thank you for looking. I hope many will do the same... Friends always: Dale |
||
Marge Tindal
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384Florida's Foreverly Shores |
Lucky, my friend~ WOW ! What a poignant piece ! I'm so touched and moved by this. Loving you and Rosemary - and missing you both muchly. God bless your family in your move and may you always return to bless us with shared gems of wisdom and compassion. Love~ ~*Marge*~ ~*The pen of the poet never runs out of ink, as long as we breathe.*~ |
||
Mother_Earth Senior Member
since 2000-11-20
Posts 13701/2 year Texas & 1/2 year Michigan |
lucky, I was turned off by a lot of this, and then felt compelled to read on. Only some one who has been there can know how it feels to be in your place and world. I hope you can help other little ones in your pain find peace and comfort. Hope all works out and you find you are a person made by God and God doesn't make junk! Hugs, ME |
||
Lisann Member
since 2001-01-31
Posts 350 |
lucky. all i can say is WOW. I also grew up in foster care, so trust me I know exactly how you feel. I happened to notice that you are from Canada. So am I. I grew up in the Roman Catholic Childrens Aid Society. I went into the orphanage when I was 6 months old. 10 foster homes. 3 group homes, 3 hospital placements and 15 social workers later, I did not get adopted, even with all the promises made to me. instead at 16, I left CAS and quit school. I got 2 jobs in order to support myself. I was sick and tired of all the BS. They put me through. This poem really touched home with me boy. Brought back some pretty nasty feelings as well. Ones that I still need to work on. I recently found out that the CAS that I was a part of will be amalgamating with the Public board and they will be moving into one big building together which means they will be destroying the old building--------WHAT I WOULDN'T GIVE FOR A PIECE OF DYNAMITE!!!!!!!. I would love to help them destroy that damn building. The system is totally useless. I have several opinions about that whole scene. But anyway, Great poem. This is coming from someone who grew up in it and understands completely |
||
Joyce Johnson
since 2001-03-10
Posts 9912Washington State |
This is truly a stirring piece. I don't know if you are a foster child or if you are a psychology student but I am sure children are going through this torment every day. It is hard to place blame. Except perhaps parenting should come with an instruction book, or perhaps every set of parents should have to take classes in parenting, before conceiving. Anyway I had a foster child after he had gone through fifteen other homes. It was a struggle but I was determined I was not giving up no matter what and he learned to love me and called me Mom but his life was ruined. I taught him to drive a car at nineteen, he'd never had the chance to learn. And then he killed himself in a car accident at the age of twenty-nine. He had so much potential, but it just wasn't nourished soon enough. I was not a paid foster parent, my son brought him home to me when he found out he had no place to go. At sixteen. Joyce |
||
ethome Member Patricius
since 2000-05-14
Posts 11858New Brunswick Canada |
Wonderful work Dale on the page and also in what you do! Definitely keep up the good work! |
||
Rosemary J. Gwaltney Senior Member
since 1999-08-26
Posts 997northern mountains, Idaho |
This piece speaks the mind of a hurting child so eloquently! I too, thought it was excellently put. No child should ever have to feel these feelings, but unfortunately, life is not so kind. I think it's important for us "grown-ups" to become aware, and then never forget... Thank you, honey, for sharing this. (With love, your wife Rosemary) The spiritual wind that holds survivors aloft, plants the seeds from which bloom new hope ... R.J.G. |
||
suthern
since 1999-07-29
Posts 20723Louisiana |
I'm not a parent or even a potential... so I almost missed this. And I'm glad I didn't... for the heartbreak it leaves is a small price to pay for the reminder "Never forget that every single thing you do matters immensely to me"... words of truth that should be branded into the psyches of every adult in contact with a child. |
||
⇧ top of page ⇧ | ||
All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. |