The Vagabond Children:

Tammy:

A reader, and now a friend mentioned to us school. I am glad she did because I do not know when I would have gotten around to talking about what school was like for me, I think now is probably the best time to talk about that, before I get into sharing more about my experience with the foster care system.

“Another brick in the wall” Pink Floyd

I mentioned before school was a living hell for me. I was constantly being tested for my intelligence ratio and IQ. I came to the belief that they thought I was either just lazy or was actually mentally challenged in the intelligence department. I was neither, I was an abused child trying to survive. I was always too tired to do my home work, how I got to grade seven I will never know!! I think they just passed on the problem child, to the next teacher, maybe in the hopes they could reach me. Or Maybe they just did not care and wanted me out of the school system as fast as they could. Either way, school was a nightmare. I think the Teachers were the worst bully’s of them all. Some took particular glee in pointing me out as an example of a terrible student, and what not to do or be. They would intentionally ask me a question, that they knew I could not answer, and because of my lacking social skills it was even more awkward for me.

The children would mock me and whisper things when they seen me coming, it was such a painful thing for me. I hated school! I did everything I could to not go, including skipping a few times. I didn’t dare skip too much, because if our mom found out I was one hurting little girl for sure!! Sometimes, I would even hide under my bed so mom thought I had gone to school, sometimes she was so out of it, she didn’t even know if it was night or day. I would stay there and sleep until I heard the kids come home, I am sure Tyra knew what I did but she never said anything. Why would she, she didn’t want to see me get a whooping.

One particular bad day when the kids at school were being very brutal and took my lock and put some one else’ lock on my locker, I got mad, for the briefest moment they looked scared, I was mad!! Then I withdrew into my shell, and they really let into me, telling me I smelled bad, and was ugly and stupid. The teacher standing there watching did nothing. I just turned and walked out of the school and went home, my heart hurting. Like I said I was a ticking time bomb, but was so sensitive I could not bring myself to let my rage come out. When i walked through the door I went to the bedroom and told mom what happened, and she said it is ok just lay down and go to sleep, and when you get up everything will be OK. this was when it was confirmed to me that sleep was a solution not a problem. sleep is good, I can be who ever I want to be, were ever I want to be, when ever I want to be. This bullying lasted all through my time in the public and catholic school system. To be brutally honest the Catholic school was the worst.

I would have to catch a bus to school, the catholic school. Wish I would have just opted to go back to “Hillcrest” as it was just across the way from the new school. It was a Catholic school. I requested a Catholic school, thinking maybe I would not get bullied in a school with Catholics running it. I was so bloody wrong! However, when in my life have I ever been right about something that might potentially be good for me?

I was sent to the principals office many times when I went to this school, the reason being I was not learning fast enough or not at all. I didn’t know my multiplication tables so math was a huge problem for me. I remember sitting in that office for an hour while he made me start counting till my voice was horse and my throat was dry. He would stop me so every often and say what do these numbers have in common? I had no idea what he was trying to get me to understand. After I was getting into the millions I would beg him to tell me the answer, he refused. he just kept having me count while he got more and more angry with me for not getting it. He would ask me the same question over and over “WHAT DO THESE NUMBERS HAVE IN COMMON?!!” To this day I still do not know the answer, he never told me the answer, he just sent me home; school was out for the day.

One day after school, I had to use the bathroom before leaving, and I saw the group of popular girls picking on a young girl, small and timid. The Bully Was Karla and the beauty and ring leader was Cathy. I was concerned for that young girl and knew there was no way I could stop that group of girls, so I did the only thing I could do which was get a teacher to deal with it. I left the school thinking every thing was going to be ok. I was accosted at my bus stop by those same girls that were beating up the girl in the bathroom. I wish I could say I defended myself, but I was so conditioned to be a victim, I just did damage control the best I could. I ended up with a bloody nose and a black eye for my efforts to save a innocent Girl from being beat up. I had to walk home because some one stole my bus pass. After this the bullying intensified, it was worse than when I was going to Richie and other schools I attended. I hated my life…I hated myself.

When I finally walked through the door of my foster mothers, she just looked at me as I told her what happened. When I was done telling her about being beat up, crying my eyes out, she just laughed at me. she didn’t try to comfort me or tell me it was ok or nothing all she did was laugh, and when she was done laughing she said go wash up for supper. My inner rage grew, my hatred of people smoldered! I was so grateful when Tyra comforted me, I don’t know what I would do with out her! love her to bits!

After the incident at the Catholic school, I called my social worker, told her what happened and told her I wanted to transfer back to Hillcrest. She did what was necessary and I found myself back at Hillcrest, which was the only school I was never bullied at. I didn’t have friends but at least no one bullied me.

I remember the day that the social services had come to take us away, due to the physical abuse Tyra and us children were enduring. I had no idea, that a teacher had found out and reported it to child protection services, or child welfare as we called it. Since I was in a different school, I was already at home when the Child protective services and the police came to collect me, and get the younger ones things. Mom didn’t even blink an eye, all she said was” I will just get them back you know..” The Social worker said nothing to my mom and I asked the Social Worker what was going on? She didn’t say anything until I took her upstairs to collect our things, what a joke that was we didn’t have anything much to collect. I had one pair of pants and a extra shirt. No underclothes and couple pairs of mismatched socks. The Social Worker told me that they had been called due to abuse and neglect by our mother, by a concerned individual.

The Social Worker also explained the youngest children had been apprehended, due to signs of sever physical abuse. She then asked me if this was true, that we were being physically abused. I simply said to her, “which day would you like to know about, she just looked incredibly sad. She asked me to take me to the children’s rooms to collect there stuff. I took her to the bathroom to collect Tyra’s pair of pants that were hanging up to dry. They were still damp, the Social Worker said these are still damp we can leave them, were are the rest of her clothes. I said your looking at them. We ended up leaving with nothing but me, in the back seat of the Social Workers car. There was no belongings to collect other than us children. I was wearing what I already owned, and the other stuff was just raggedy garbage. I remember once in school the school nurse bringing me a out fit to wear. If it wasn’t for that kindness, I don’t know what I would wear. I would wash my outfit in the tub every second day, to try to be clean.

We had come and gone from mom’s care so much it is very difficult to remember each instance, but it was a lot. So we are just talking about the most clear instances that we can remember. As time goes on if we recall other instances we will tell of them but for now, we just speaking about the most clear instances we remember. So once again, we were shuttled of to receiving homes, I was separated from the three youngest. this constant separation was causing serious attachment issues, with all of us.

Attachment and Bonding:

“Attachment between humans is a complex process. How attachments develop and function is not yet completely understood. However it is essential that those who participate in making major decisions bout the lives of children and families have a basic understanding of attachment theory. Attachment and separation are the heart of Child welfare work.” (Vera I. Fahlberg M.D 1991)

Strong Attachment or bonds, help children develop strong social, emotional and metal skills. having a strong attachment to parents and siblings is vital especially in the early years. It helps them built trust and self reliance, which in turn makes them less likely to be a victim, and to have healthy interpersonal skills. “These earliest relationships influence both physical and intellectual development as well as forming the foundation for psychological development…Many children who enter foster care are in jeopardy of losing some or all of these strengths.” (Klaus, 1976)

Home is a place called no were:

So now we were separated again, since the youngest three were together Tyra will have to tell you about that experience, for me I went to a receiving home way in the boonies . Was only there for a couple of days before they sent me back to the city, were I resided with a police officer and his wife and two young boys. I know you are probably thinking what I am thinking a frigging cop?! Some one with ultimate authority over people? this was not going to be good and it wasn’t. However, it was not the Male that caused me issues, but the mother and her two boys.I really do not think they thought through what it actually meant to take an abused child into their home, I mean it wasn’t like we are peaches and cream on a Sunday afternoon! We have issues!

Those two boys were so spoiled in my estimation, I mean it was already awkward being in their home, but to be made to feel unwelcome by those two was even worse, and the mother never stepped in to correct them. They continually and constantly said to me “That is our mom! This is our house, that is our dad, this is our food!” I tried my best to avoid those two brats, and yes they were brats, thanks to their mothers absent parenting. She was more interested in her “church” duties than to be looking out for a lowly foster kid. Guess the pay didn’t warrant decency and respect for a foster kid. I didn’t like going to church with them and eventually started asking them if I could please just stay home. They would not let me as they had to parade me around to their congregation introducing me not my name but as our foster child. Are you F’ing kidding me?! Sorry, I just got a little heated remembering this, I apologize for the profanity.

I loved staying in my room and dancing to tapes, especially Pat Benatare, she was my favorite artist of the time. I enjoyed all her songs. I always wanted to be a dancer, and sometimes I would make my self so sore I could hardly walk trying ballet poses lol. ” Fame” was my all time favorite movie. I did have a dream…I dreamed of being a Dancer. It wasn’t to be long before I rebelled against these people. I mean who did they think they were? Oh ya they thought they were better than every one else. I can’t stand that kind of attitude. It all came to a head when the foster mom slapped me across the face five times, because she thought I pushed one of her kids. I didn’t but that is what he told her; little liar. Those boys just wanted me gone, I hope the next foster child was treated better. I just quietly said, “I would not hurt your kids, lady, but you sure don’t seem to have a problem hurting me!” I ran away the next day, and was picked up by the police that night, guess who picked me up, your right the foster dad. I think he understood what was happening even if I didn’t say a word to him about what happened. I had to sit in the police station all night on that hard bench, waiting for my Social worker to find a place to put me. 

Trigger warning, please be aware there is sexual abuse in the next piece I am sharing:

I ended up going out to Wainwright, and Army base town. I stayed with a younger coup[le, and The mans younger sister also lived with them, I remember my social Worker bringing me to this home and I was sitting there as the Social Worker introduced us. They had a little white poodle. I was sitting in a chair with my feet out and crossed, and that dumb dog started humping my foot. I didn’t realize that was what he was doing till his owner said “Ramsey! Stop that!” When she said that I was so embarrassed!! I didn’t know he was being a dirty dog, I wish she would have waited to get me alone to explain to me what that dog did was wrong. When that happened When my Social Worker got up to leave, and got to her car I panicked and bolted out the door. I ran to her car and she just got to it a well, so we stood there by her car while I begged her not to leave me here. I was so embarrassed, you remember how modest I am , so this humiliation was just to much for me! how, could I possibly bear to meet these strangers eyes after that awful dog did that to my foot!! My social Worker said “Tammy you have no choice you have to stay here there is no were else I can take you.” the only words that rand through my ears was “Tammy, you have no choice.” She was right I didn’t. However, I didn’t realize the impact those words would have on me a few days later, after I had been there for a while.

The man’s younger sister , who was about 19 approached me and said if you get lonely you can sleep with me. I felt comforted by her and did cuddle with her. I missed my siblings so much. One time I accidentally touched her boobs and pulled back like I burned myself, she laughed and said”it’s ok don’t worry, I don’t mind”. I didn’t even think to beware, as I had never been abused sexually by a female before.. until her. I wasn’t sexually attracted to girls, so I didn’t even think it was possible, as I never met a lesbian before. Or if I did, I didn’t know it, because I never had a female come on to me. I became very attached to this girl and went every were with her when we were at home, and would spend hours in her room listening to music or reading, or laughing together. I didn’t love her but I was growing to trust her. I did love their little baby though.I would play with him and loved when he laughed, that little baby I loved and bonded with. I still miss his baby laugh and smile, when I think of him.

So my relationship with this young woman progressed from sleeping together with clothes on to her sleeping naked. I never slept with no clothes on I felt to vulnerable, but she was very comfortable naked. My only thought was she was so brave and I wish I was more like her. she plucked her eyebrows so I wanted mine plucked, she had pierced ears so I wanted pierced ears, double like her. She wore make up So i wanted to wear make up. My foster mom let me do this, for the first time I was some what happy and began to let my guard down a bit. I didn’t like that they cut my hair short though, our mother always had waist length hair and all us girls always had long hair. When she cut it i felt cut off from my sisters. She didn’t understand this, but it didn’t matter I cried silently in my room. The girl I was bonding with heard me though and came in to comfort me, and that was our first kiss. I didn’t like it, but I had no choice right, isn’t that what the Social worker said…I don’t like kissing at all, I can’t even stand watching people kiss on TV it is so gross to me. It just escalated from there.

One night my foster parent went out for the evening and there baby was at his grandparents, that left me and my foster sister alone to our own devices, or rather her devices, I was just alone. She was in her room when she called my name and told me to come to her room. Seeing her naked I just thought she was going to bed early. She had that gross little dog with her on the bed. She said “let me show you something, you will like it”.

She spread her legs and that little dog dove right in like he been doing it forever, which he probably did. He started licking her vagina, and she started moaning. I was shocked and sickened. I had no idea people would do this to an animal. I now felt bad for that little dog, as I understood like me he had no choice and was a victim. after she was done, she tried to entice me to do the same, and I said I didn’t want to do that with the dog, she said ” OK, next time I will show you something else, come give me a hug.” I did and she gave me a kiss with tongue.. so gross!! Of course I didn’t say that to her though, I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

The next time she gave me oral sex, I just lay there, I wasn’t a participant, I wasn’t even an observer, I was far away some were no one else can come. This female on female sex was very disturbing to me. I didn’t understand it and I didn’t like it , it was not comforting to me. I didn’t understand that although a lower percentage than men woman can be sexual predators as well. No one was safe, except my siblings, I had to get back to them no matter what, but I didn’t even know were they were! There was no visits or even phone calls. We were truly and what I thought irrevocably separated. When my foster sister said, “next time will be even more fun!” I was galvanized into action. As soon as I was alone I called my social worker frantic and upset, I told her I needed to talk to her right away like today! she came a few days later, and I was still frantic and told her I needed to go today like right now! She asked me “why?” I didn’t tell her why I told her that I could not possibly stay here it was not safe for me and if she made me stay I would run away. I was still very much a minor so running away was not an option. I told her in no uncertain terms I wanted to be placed with my sisters and brother. she told me it was no possible to be placed with my brother as he was in a boys home. I said fine, but demanded to visit him. However, I wanted to be with my sisters! I was adamant, and was ready to run away and try to find them, an impossible task but to my mind it was do able. I know you are probably asking why didn’t you tell? This is normal for children who are being abused not to tell on their abusers, especially in my case, since every time my mother showed me I was bad for telling, and my social Worker said I had no choice, even the justice system failed me. Even if it was a male abusing me I do not know how long I could take it for, before I either lost my mind of killed my self. Thoughts of suicide were prevalent, and this was an option for me.

Reunion:

For the first time in my life I was getting my way!! I was going to be with my sisters! I was so happy. My current foster family was sad too see me go, but they had no idea what was going on with my foster sister. My sister had already been in this foster home for a while, so it was not as uncomfortable as going some were new and alone. We only had a foster mother who was probably in her sixties, so I felt hey this wont be so bad… I was wrong, when would I ever learn.

she always gave us cereal for breakfast, but the milk always tasted sour to me!! I would ask my sisters if the milk tasted sour to them? They would say yes, and it just made it worse for me, I couldn’t eat that cereal with sour milk!. I would just leave it and tell out foster mother I wasn’t hungry. I would then proceed to eat some of my lunch on the way to school. We laugh about this sour milk now, I have a real phobia about milk, and if it gets to close to the date of expiry I wont drink it, even if it is not bad. I just don’t want to take the chance.

I was exhibiting behaviors of sever mental illness, but I was so hard to reach, I guess no one took the effort to try and reach me, so my metal illness just ran rampant. it was so bad, I was having nightmares, and would get up and literally walk off the end of my bed, waking my self up and jumping into my bed in a panic. The first time this happened my foster mother came to see what the loud bang was, I told her I fell out of bed, I did not tell her I walked off the end of my bed. Hiding my oddities, was becoming second nature to me, I had to protect what little self I had left. I did not trust Adults, so why in the world would I open up to them?

Our Foster mother had a little adopted daughter about the same age as our littlest sister. Our foster mother loved her little adopted daughter. However, her adopted daughter was so jealous of our little sister. I recall one time there was a little gathering, and our foster mother encouraged her adopted daughter to beat up my little sister. i felt so helpless, and angry! However, I did not want to jeopardize staying with my sisters so I kept my silence and would only intervene if my little sister got really hurt. those two little girls were pulling hair, scathing and trying to beat each other to a bloody pulp. they were not play fighting! The adults laugh and clapped and rooted on their favorite fighter. What is wrong with these people! We are in a mad house! Finally our Foster mother put a stop to the fight and had to physically separate and keep those two little girls apart. Shameful just dam shameful to do this to children, especially children who have suffered so much in their short lives!

“Some children in foster care are very seriously disturbed and evidence symptoms of psychosis.These children are not just immature. they behave in a way that is different from normal children of any age.”(Vera I.Fahlberg, M.D.)

Signs and symptoms Requiring Full Psychiatric Evaluation in children:

Extreme withdrawal from interaction;behaving as though others are not present. Inappropriate affect ie;laughing, crying, or rage for no apparent reason. Fantasies that are so marked they interfere with day to day functioning. Total lack of interest in interacting with peers; no normal peer interactions. Extreme lack of responsiveness to other people. Lack of appropriate fears/or abnormal fears that interfere with day to day functioning. Auditory or visual Hallucinations. (I have both) Failure to develop speech or disappearance of speech after it has developed.(Tyra had a speech impediment, she stuttered very badly. it was non medical, it was because of the abuse and extreme stress.) Non communicative speech. (My sister Tyra and I had own language and got very frustrated when people did not understand us, when we understood each other fine. Persistent abnormal rhythm to speech. Sing Song or chanting over and over. Abnormalities in reactions to stimulation; may be hypersensitive or hyposensitive to auditory stimuli, tactile stimuli, and the like. I was Hypersensitive, and Hyper vigilant. Self mutilation: self explanatory. Developmental delays combined with areas of normal or above normal functioning.(Sometimes we were immature in the extreme and in other areas scarily mature). Marked insistence on sameness, such as routines or object placement. Both my sister and I have varying degrees of Obsessive compulsive disorder.any changes in plans or routine is very upsetting for us also, and the emotional response is extreme.

There was on activity that I did with my sisters that I absolutely loved doing. that was dancing, I had a mini pop record that I would play over and over while my sisters and I danced to it. I would swing them around, hoist them up in the air, throw them in the air and catch them. Looking back I must have been unbelievably strong lol. because they were not all the light, although to me they were light. I know out foster m,others daughter wanted to play too, and I would oblige, but I had no bond with her what so ever. I didn’t feel one way or the other about her. the only time I felt anything was when I thought about her fighting my youngest sister, and then my anger was directed at our foster mother, I never blamed the child.