6 schools, 5 caseworkers & 11 different ‘parents’ in 4 years; plus, I haven’t seen my biological family in over 2.
I’ve outlasted all of my caseworkers, each one has moved on, while I continue to stay stagnant in the system.
I’ve been moved because of time restraints, personality differences & for making mistakes that most teenagers do. But unlike most, my parents had the option to put in notice & have me removed.
When I finally found a teacher that I could confide in, I moved to the other side of town. Never seeing her again.
It used to be hard not to make connections, but overtime it became easier. I’ve learned that everything is always temporary in my world.
I’m expected to be grateful for actually living in a home & not a facility at my age; even though I can’t remember the last time someone said they loved me—I’m considered “lucky”.
Every time I move, I must conform to new rules, lifestyles, religions—without questioning a thing.
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have a mom that would brush my hair & brag to her friends about my grades; or a protective dad that meets my prom date at the door, lecturing him about being a gentleman.
But I don’t let my mind wander too far because I don’t know that I’ll ever get those things, although I secretly want them so badly.
I’ll be considered an adult in less than a year & even at 17, my deepest desire is to be adopted & my deepest fear is to age out of the system without a family to call my own. A family who loves me & who welcomes me freely, even when I’ve messed up.
I know fostering teenagers is hard & it would be easier not to do it—but being a teenager in foster care is hard & nobody gave me a choice. ~thoughts from a foster youth~ #ThisIsFosterCare