It's the middle of the week in the beginning of June. Temperature is high, attitudes are higher. My son comes home from school with his progress report. This report has his grades at the half way mark of the semester. Needless to say, it wasn't any good. Before I go any further I need to explain a few things about my son and I.
My educational career came to an abrupt stop at the age of 16. I very stupidly quit school. I was always told I could do whatever I want. I would have to suffer the consequences of my decisions. It wasn't until later in life that I found out I wouldn't be the only one paying for these decisions. My wife and children would also suffer. My quitting school took away all of my options. I was not able to get a good paying job or afford the luxury of spoiling my kids with all the latest gadgets. We lived in a poor, crime ridden neighborhood. My family and I were surrounded with guns, drugs, and attempted murder. I couldn't let my kids play outside safely without worrying if something might happen. Yes, I attribute this to not having finished high school. I feel bad for this and try to use this as an example for my children. "If you don't like living in this environment, then graduate high school and not only DO better then me, but BE better then me".
My son has his own issues he is facing. Being of mixed race, partially deaf, and overweight. He was experiencing bullying and teasing of the cruelest kind. He always tries his very best and he is quiet. He is not the class clown or a trouble maker. He comes home from school and does his homework before playing video games. So when I saw his progress report I was shocked.
I flew into him with a verbal thrashing about how it is very important, not only to his mother and me, that he gets good grades and graduates and makes something of himself. Don't make the same mistakes I made. Well at the end of my tirade my, then 13 year old, son looked me square in the eye and said "Why should I dad? You don't have yours! If it's so important, how come you don't have one?" Well, to say the least I was floored. For once I had no snappy comeback. Everything this child said was nothing but the cold, hard truth.
So, I started going back to school in 2007. I went through the External Diploma Program and finished it the late summer early fall of 2008. I enrolled at Wor-Wic Community College and completed my first two semester's before I finally received my High School Diploma June of 2009. Here it is 2011 and I am still in college. I joke with my friends and say "I am going to a 2 year institution on the 15 year plan." Reality is, I only sign up for 2 or 3 classes per semester.
When I got my diploma my son jokingly hung his head and said "crap!" He was quick to tell me he was proud with a big grin on his face. I am proud to say my son MADE me go back to school. I am even prouder to have a son that would have the courage to challenge my challenge to him and the rest of my children. I am sure that this is not what the bible meant when it mentions "......and a child shall lead them", but I think it still applies here. For it took a child for me to go back to school..............
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
A Family of My Own
A Family of My Own
A Family of My Own
I had a pretty decent life in my first nine years or, so I thought. I was outside playing one day when we got a visitor. It was the same woman who had been coming once a month to talk to my parents for as long as I can remember. Not once did she speak to me, but on this particular day she wanted to talk to me in private. I felt nervous because I didn’t know who she was or what she wanted. She told me her name was Diane Dykes and that she was a social worker. I asked her what that had to do with me and she told me that she was my social worker. She went on to tell me that I was not living with my real parents. I asked why I was not with my real mother and she told me it was because my mother had physically and sexually abused me. At age nine, my life took a turn for the worse. This revelation caused me to feel uncertain, angry, unwanted, and alone.The biggest question I had was, why me? I wasn’t sure who I was anymore. I cried myself to sleep many nights asking “Why God, Why?” Why did I have to endure this kind of life? What’s going to happen to me now? Will I ever live with my real mother? “Home” was a place I no longer knew. I felt that my life was a lie and I was madder than mad.
Another important detail from this revelation is the way I felt. I felt betrayed because my foster parents didn’t tell me I was not theirs. I had to hear it from some stranger. These people were supposed to protect me from harm. I would have preferred for them to tell me who or what I was. I was angry at them for letting this happen. I was angry at my mother for having been the reason I was in this situation. I was angry with God. Why? God says he is there at all times and he sees all. He is our great protector, so where was my protection? Why would he let me live a life that was so screwed up? What lesson could I possibly have to learn? I was once a respectful and delightful young man. Not anymore, I was now a delinquent. I ran away from home and I would steal just for the hell of it. I destroyed property. If I felt you wronged me in some way I would pay you back. I was on the defensive and offensive at all times. I was determined to hurt you before you hurt me. These things lead to my feeling unwanted.
Finally, I figured if God didn’t want to protect me and keep me safe then there was something wrong with me. My mother didn’t do it, my foster parents couldn’t do it, and the state of Maryland wouldn’t do it. I was only nine years old and I didn’t know how to take care of myself. Why would anyone want a child that God didn’t want? Now I was a screwed up kid not worthy of a family’s love. I was alone. I felt that it was me against the world. I didn’t know any other children in foster care so; I had no one on my side. I didn’t trust anyone anymore. I didn’t have any friends and it was better that way. No one could hurt me if I didn’t let them get close to me. I thought I was protecting myself this way and I did, but I also made it impossible for anyone to get to know me.
Most importantly, my fear of being hurt kept me alone for many years. I am still pissed at Diane Dykes for giving me that information at age nine. I think it would’ve been better to wait until I was older and could handle the information. Realistically God owes me nothing, but I would like an explanation. That will have to wait for a long time; I am not ready to die to get it. I was in my early twenties when I realized that I was not going to get anywhere in life as long as I held on to the past. I finally let someone get close to me and we married in 2003. We have four wonderful children together. I found what I spent my whole life looking for: a family of my own.
Edit
It Stops With Me
It Stops With Me!
Do Abused Become Abusers?
When I hear the word “Abuse”, the first thing I think of is the memories of a childhood that I wished had never happened. Statistics state that abused children grow up to be abusers. In her article, “Do Sexually Abused Kids Become Abusers?” by Salynn Boyles for WebMD Health News, she suggests that after new research the risks are smaller than previously thought. There was a study done in London where 224 male victims of sexual assault were identified and background searches performed. Most of these subjects were 20 years or older when the study was performed. Twenty-six out of the 224 were found to have committed sexual offenses against children. That’s only 12%. As a victim of physical and sexual abuse I firmly believe that our actions are our own when we have reached 18 years of age. Think about how these statistics came about. Someone would commit a sex crime and then say that it had happened to them so they thought it was normal. After so many of these cases people started to take notice and record the numbers.
When I was 9 years old I was informed of the things I had endured in my short life. Two years later the past would repeat itself for 3 more years. At this time in the 1980’s child abuse was becoming nationally recognized. Social Services investigating these cases would later say that the mother or father of the child had experienced abuse as a child. Therefore, the cycle repeated. I think it was just easier to blame someone else rather than take responsibility for their actions. I don’t doubt that maybe they had a rough child hood. I just find it hard to believe that they didn’t have the strength to be better than that person who had mistreated them. I was only 13 when I made up my mind to not become part of these statistics. What I didn’t realize was that I was on the road to doing just that as long as I used my past as an excuse for the trouble I got into.
I would be disruptive in school, runaway from home, lie, cheat, and steal my way through my teen years. When I got into trouble I would tell the story of my childhood to gain sympathy and hopefully receive mercy in my punishment. More often than not it was to get myself out of trouble. It’s this way of thinking that some criminals hold to. I was 18 when I realized that this was only going to get me so far before my luck would run out.
I was in my early twenties when I met someone who was as rebellious as I was. I shared my life story with her and she posed a very thought provoking question, “Don’t you think your falling into the traps of the system by getting into trouble anyway? So in essence you are becoming a statistic.” So I found or developed a new way to rebel. They say I will be an abuser, I AM NOT! They say I am more likely to follow the criminal lifestyle, I AM NOT! They say I will not be a productive member of society, I say, I WILL! All of these things I will or will not do are of my own doing, not for any other reason. Although, I despise my childhood, it has done one thing. It has made me strong enough to recognize what the statistics say and that I know I don’t want to be a part of those statistics. I would like to be a part of the statistic that says abused children CAN and DO stop the pattern of abuse. It stops with me.
Be the first to like this post.
One Response to It Stops With Me!
- I’m posting my comment here too, aside from facebook……
I love it! “It stops with me” Absolutely, why so many adults use their childhood to continue the abuse to another is beyond me! We all have a choice and all know right from wrong. Very well said Stuart!
Get Over It
You have a bad day at work, nothing major just a bad day. You would expect someone to say thats life, get over it. Especially if you complain about it everyday. Would you tell someone who has had a traumatic expierence the same thing? Traumatic like rape, loss of a family member, burglery, car accident these things are traumatic to people who don’t expierence them everyday all day. Would you tell them to get over it? No, I don’t think anyone would. So, why then, would you tell a foster child to get over it? Is their hardship not as equally traumatic? Sure it is. They have, for whatever reason, been torn away from their family. Some children are too young to know what happened to them. So, they don’t know that this is not normal. All they know is that these people they are with are not their family. They want to go home.
We tell people who have gone through traumatic expierences that the more they talk about it, the easier it is to deal with it. We would never think to say “Get over it”. Not just because it’s impolite and inconsiderate, but because we want to show compassion for this person and give them someone to talk too. I have not personally had anyone tell me to get over it and I hope I never do. A friend of mine, however did. She, like me, was in the foster care system and is proud of the positive things she has done with her life. Of the two directions she could have gone, she chose the right one for her. She wants to share her own little story of success with the world. Overcoming adversity when it seems the world is against you, is a major accomplishment for anyone. More for us foster kids though. The reason is because once we enter the system we already have one strike against us. See, foster kids aren’t looked at as the next president, CEO of a large company, or anything that positive. We are looked at as the next body that will fill cell block C. So, for any foster child, especially ones who have been in the system for 8 years or more, not living a life of crime is huge. Each one of us, though our stories may seem similar, have different stories to tell. We tell our stories to help educate, to give hope, and to point out a flawed system. All of us, no matter our age, still hurt because in the end someone rejected us. No one wants to be rejected. But to be rejected as a child is a fate far worse then a playground beat down. Instead of my friend being encouraged to share or recieving positive feedback for sharing, she is told to get over it. This rejection came from someone she reveared as close to her and they just threw her away like yesterdays trash. But don’t feel to bad for my friend because she has a wonderful husband who has her back, wonderful children, and a great support system within her in-laws and the rest of us foster’s who have been in her shoes. So, if you don’t like hearing our stories or others like them I have three words for ya; GET OVER IT!
We tell people who have gone through traumatic expierences that the more they talk about it, the easier it is to deal with it. We would never think to say “Get over it”. Not just because it’s impolite and inconsiderate, but because we want to show compassion for this person and give them someone to talk too. I have not personally had anyone tell me to get over it and I hope I never do. A friend of mine, however did. She, like me, was in the foster care system and is proud of the positive things she has done with her life. Of the two directions she could have gone, she chose the right one for her. She wants to share her own little story of success with the world. Overcoming adversity when it seems the world is against you, is a major accomplishment for anyone. More for us foster kids though. The reason is because once we enter the system we already have one strike against us. See, foster kids aren’t looked at as the next president, CEO of a large company, or anything that positive. We are looked at as the next body that will fill cell block C. So, for any foster child, especially ones who have been in the system for 8 years or more, not living a life of crime is huge. Each one of us, though our stories may seem similar, have different stories to tell. We tell our stories to help educate, to give hope, and to point out a flawed system. All of us, no matter our age, still hurt because in the end someone rejected us. No one wants to be rejected. But to be rejected as a child is a fate far worse then a playground beat down. Instead of my friend being encouraged to share or recieving positive feedback for sharing, she is told to get over it. This rejection came from someone she reveared as close to her and they just threw her away like yesterdays trash. But don’t feel to bad for my friend because she has a wonderful husband who has her back, wonderful children, and a great support system within her in-laws and the rest of us foster’s who have been in her shoes. So, if you don’t like hearing our stories or others like them I have three words for ya; GET OVER IT!
7 Responses to Get Over It
- Thank you so much for this post, I know that it means a lot not only to the person whom this particular post is about but to all of us how have been told to “get over it.” Abandonment is a devastating assault to the soul of a child. Our society doesn’t want to be reminded of that, they prefer to think of children as resilient, that way we don’t need to feel the need to consider how our decisions affect them.
- Sunday my friend, it was her story that gave me the motivation to write it. I have those feelings within me, as do every foster child, past and present. And as for society not wanting to be reminded of their failure to protect or guide us, thats why my blog name is societieschild.
- Everytime I hear the phrase “Get Over It” I CRINGE!!!
Especially when it comes to the wounds of teens/adults emotionally wounded as children. What I’ve come to realize though, is that usually the people who say things like that are actually the ones who feel the greatest inability and helplessness to embrace and address the depths of such pain to manifest true healing.
So I say “continue to work/get THROUGH it”– it’s a process and journey which only the courageous embrace. (: <3 Lucy Hamby says:
Kool! You are so right!- You have been a great friend for the short amount of time I have known you Stuart! This post really does mean so much to me, I am not use to others sticking up for me, I was always left to defend myself and have become rather good at it. Sometimes it’s hard to put yourself out there for the simple fact that others are telling you just that “Just get over it” It’s hard to express yourself in a world who does not understand or even take the time to put their selves in our shoes. Thank you to all that have supported me during this difficult time.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
One Response to A Family of My Own