Tammy

We moved to Slave Lake and I had every intention of staying there and building a life. I got a job, even though my mom and her man and I were living in a tent. I was trying to lead a normal life, however, under very abnormal circumstances. I felt if I could get mom and I an apartment, maybe we could get the kids back. If they wanted to come live with us. I tried very hard, and didn’t drink at all. I was focusing on my job. Working in the lounge didn’t even bother me since, I had a goal! To have the family back together.

I really liked my boss, she was a very kind lady and helped me as best as she could. She liked to have a drink after work though and after I had been there for a while she would ask me to join her. I was so scared to join her, what if I lost control and got drunk. I didn’t though and I am so grateful for that. However, I knew drinking was a dangerous game for me, and one I should not play. I did not spend a lot of time with mom as I was at work, and asked for as many shifts as I could get since I was saving for a place for me and my mom. I was again becoming the caretaker, it just seemed natural, and didn’t even notice. I suppose I was co-dependent on my mom, because I still needed her approval so badly. In some ways we became friends but the mother daughter relationship seemed to be strained due to what happen in our past.

Mom was never one to own up to her mistakes or wrong doings. She was very quick to blame both me or Tyra. Sometimes she would be down right angry, but after taking her medicines she would calm down and forget what she was saying. However, it was never a good idea to try to get closure of the past with mom. If I tried it was just another way for her to show me that there are a million and one ways she could break my heart.

Disaster struck not long after we were in slave lake. We were there for maybe three weeks. We were all at my sister Tyras dads place using their shower and cleaning up. Tyra’s Dads New wife was kind enough to let us use her facilities, and I thank her for that comfort. Disaster struck, but some Higher Power must have been watching over us, because if we were at the camp site we would have been washed away and probably drowned. However we were all at the trailer in town. There was a flash flood and we were not able to get anything but our selves into the boat that came to rescue us. This Flash Flood Happened on July 5th to the 8th, 1988

We lost everything except the clothes on our backs. I had to quit my job not only because I didn’t have any clothes appropriate for serving in a Lounge but also because the establishment was flooded. Social Service’s put us up in a hotel room for a week to let us figure out what to do.

Her new man was a alcoholic who drank almost every day, However, he worked, so was gone from camp as well, unless it was his days off. I did not like him. After reflecting on it, I think the reason why was because of the attention my mom gave him. Even though she was mean to him, she still gave him enough affection that he would not leave her. That did not make a difference to me, he was still competition for her affections. It never ceased to amaze me that she would accuse me of being attracted to him. Really, that was so absurd, but if I knew then what I know now it would make more sense.

Mom decided that going to peace river to settle was the best thing for us to do. We had nothing just the clothes on our backs, I was devastated, because I knew I was going to be meeting family I did not remember, I didn’t do well with people, I became very anxious and sometimes would panic, then feel foolish. We took the bus to Peace River and two of my aunts and an uncle were there to greet us. I remember one aunt reaching for me and saying You are so beautiful!!! Those words meant so much to me! I never had any one say that to me certainly not with so much conviction and enthusiasm. I shrank inwards a bit but also felt good. My family were very nice I thought, maybe they wont hurt me.. Maybe this is were I was to start over again, rebuild my life, develop a loving mother daughter relationship, reconnect with my sisters and brother. Maybe this was the new beginning.

Tyra:

After the court case with mom and and my dad, Robert it was decided that we would move with Tanya’s biological dad Happy. We knew he was a alcoholic but he promised that he had quit drinking. I told him that we would not go live with him if he did not quit drinking and he assured me that he did. This was not the case.

At the beginning the new environment was ok. We had a big old house that did not have running water in it, no plumbing, it was just a shell of a house. It was a good reminder that we were starting over, and it was from scratch. I had my own room and so did the other kids. We would play outside, make our meals, and clean the house while Happy was gone to work.

I did not picture myself going back into the mothering role but here I was, looking after the younger siblings. Happy was always gone to work so all the chores around the house were left for me to do. Had to haul water to the house from the well, do the laundry, cook and clean. I could not believe that I had put myself back in this situation. (Tammy: reading this one sentence, were my sister says “I had put my self in this situation”. This tells me she was still internalizing, and accepting blame, for events she had no control over.)

On this one day I hear Trevor come running in the house screaming “there is a bear outside, there is a bear outside, I ran into its butt”. I did not believe him and that just made him mad. He said “come outside and see” so I proceeded to go outside and did not see anything. We then decided to go upstairs and check out the window that was facing the bush, and sure enough there were 2 cubs up in the tree and the mama wasn’t to far away. Trevor was screaming “see I told you, I ran into its butt”. I just could not stop laughing at him, the stressful situation just got to me, and I did not know what to do about this bear. So I called Happy at work and asked what to do, he said to call conservation officers to get them off the property. While waiting for the conservation officers I locked all the doors and waited for help to arrive. By the time that the officers showed up the bears had ran away through the field.

A storm was brewing outside and told the kids to stay inside. The wind was howling, and just blowing like crazy. This was the same day that the tornado touched down in Edmonton, I will not forget that day or the storm we had out in the country. We were 2 hours away from Edmonton when the storm hit there. The remnants of the storm after the tornado traveled to where we were living. I never saw a storm like this before so I called Happy back and asked what we should do, he called a friend and they came and picked us up and took us to there house. Relief swept over me, I had an adult to look after the younger kids and nothing bad would happen. I remember watching TV at this friends place then the wind picked up even more than it was blowing already, and the power went out. I looked outside and the trees were bent over so much I thought that they would break. After watching the wind blow them trees like that I stayed away from the windows and just sat on the couch waiting for the storm to blow over. Little did I know that this was just part of the storm I would have to go through during my time with Happy.

The green pinto car is what Happy had for a vehicle, and Tanya thought that she could drive it. Well that did not turn out good. There was a cement pad where it was parked, and a slope on the front of the pad. Tanya put it in gear and it rolled forward and got high centered on the cement pad. She was so scared, and of course I did not know what to do. I tried to back it up but there was no way it was moving, it was definitely high centered. Tried to call for help and no one was around to help, so we called his brother Dick. Dick and his wife came out to help us and pulled it with the truck that he was driving, and put it back on the cement pad. I was so thankful, I did not have to be scared that Happy would find out.

I did not notice the drinking at first cause I trusted what was told to me when we were in court that day. Then the lie came out when I saw him drinking vodka like it was water, he did not see me. I knew that this situation was not going to get any better either. I gave it several months to feel out the situation, but it went from bad to worse.

Starting school was the changing point for me trying to look after the kids and trying to do well in school just was not a good mix. School was my sanctuary where I could just be myself and learn what I needed to learn. The problem was the stress of being a mother and a teen. The situation was difficult on the other kids also. This one night I get woken up by Tanya pounding on my chest, she was having a nightmare, she thought that I was dead. I woke up and woke her up and said that I was ok and to quit pounding on my chest. Tanya was crying and I was laughing at the situation and told her to go back to bed, she would not go to her room so she climbed into bed with me. She just did not feel safe unless she slept with me, just proves that I was the mother hen.

I did not want to be a mom anymore I wanted to be a teenager and enjoy my time as a teenager. Then came the time when something happened, I do not remember, and I just could not do it anymore and phoned my social worker, and said that I need to get out. She asked what was going on and told her either she takes us from there or I am going to run away. I was desperate to change the situation. It was about a week later that we were taken from the home and put into Happy’s brothers place to live, the one that helped us get the car from being high centered. His wife was a mother hen and I knew it would be a good place for us, and I could be a teenager.

Being at Dick and Vals was a wonderful time of my life. They actually let me be a teenager. It was refreshing having a surrogate female that was able to be the mother I never had. Val would help me with my hair in the morning as it did take a lot of work. I would spike my hair up and use a lot of hair spray. Sometimes I would just let it be but usually have it done. She would encourage me to be a teen and not worry so much. School was fun again I only had to worry about getting there and doing the work. As any teenager you would slack off and not want to try all the time, and that was me for the first time ever.

Summer came and I decided to go visit my grandpa up in Manning. I just had a feeling that it would be a good idea to spend some time with him. I went on my own to his place, I took the bus to Manning and he was there waiting for me. I think he was surprised to see me, I was excited to see him, was 3 years since I saw him. He took me home to the farm where my uncles from my dad’s side were and I felt so welcome. Hugs were everywhere.

During my stay at my grandpa’s I was smoking a lot of pot with my uncles and aunt that were around the same age as me. This lead me down some roads I should not have taken. If my grandpa knew he would be so mad. We got the crazy idea of going to the reserve that was 3 hours away in a back of a truck. We were stoned out of our minds and did not think of the danger laying in the back of the truck. I survived and we partied some more when we got there, it seemed the party just did not quit. Then it was time to get back to grandpa’s because he was not happy with me being so far away for so long. We did not know how we were going to get back, so this became my first and last time that I hitch hiked. Walking was not bad but sticking out my thumb just seemed wrong, thank goodness I was not by myself. After walking a long time a truck driver had stopped to pick us up. I enjoyed the ride in the big truck so much that I wanted to become a truck driver, that did not happen. We finally made it back to grandpa’s place, spent a few more days with him and was on my way to Peace River to visit my Aunt Irene and Uncle Eugene.

Rodeo was my enjoyment, and the dances that came with it. I went to the fair grounds and was walking around and got asked if I wanted a job. My sister and I were both offered jobs, of course I took it and so did Tanya. I worked like crazy for the weekend and made the money back that I had spent when I was at my grandpas place. During the working hours I would be busy all day then the guys in the evening would be asking if we were going to the dance after work. I was so tired I said that I just needed some rest. I was begged to go to the dance, Tanya really wanted me to go with her, so I did. I was asked to dance a lot during the evening and I was so tired I just wanted to go back to camp and sleep, that was not in the cards for me.

Tanya had taken off with some guy during the dance and I had to find her or my aunt and uncle would be mad at me. The evening turned out to be a disaster, cause I spent more than a hour looking for Tanya. When I did find her she did not want to come with me back to camp, but I made her come back. In the morning I had to be up early to get to my job, for the final day of events. Tanya could not get out of bed to go to work, but I did. By the time that I was finished my shift I was delirious, and in desperate need of sleep. I stayed up as long as it took to get back to the farm then I was out cold for hours. I was so happy that I went to work, I proved to myself that under any conditions I could work and be responsible.

A couple days later I got a phone call from my aunt telling me that my grandpa had died. I broke down saying “he was fine I was just there” it was really difficult for me to accept. I did go to his funeral and saw my dad and his new wife for the first time since I had left and my dad tried to get me to call his wife mom. I just said “she is not my mom, and I will not be calling her such”. My dad was not happy with me, I just could not believe that he had forgotten everything that had happened when I lived with them. Then I saw some other relatives and they were talking about our mom and out of no where I said that she would probably be dead within the next 6 months. They said really, and I just said yes. Who would believe that it was 6 months and 2 weeks when she over dosed on prescription pills. I will discuss her death in a later segment.

Going back to Dick and Val’s with the kids after not having to worry about them for most of the summer was bitter sweet. I had decided that I wanted to move to Edmonton to have more choice over the courses that I took in high school. On the day that I was leaving, the kids just stayed in bed. I gave Trevor my favorite teddy bear, and don’t remember what I gave Tanya. I did cry when I left as I knew they were upset about me leaving. Down deep I knew this was the right thing to do, for them, and myself. I needed to find my way in the world and I knew I couldn’t do it parenting my siblings. Feeling guilty is normal, and did I feel guilty. (Actually, Tyra, feeling guilty about doing the right thing for yourself is not normal, grieving, sadness, that is normal. Tammy)

Tammy:

So I came full circle, back on the drag. In my absence faces has had changed, some were just older and more haggard, some were young, and not yet touched by the hardness of street life. A lot of my older friends had died. Including Brandy and Suzette. By this time seven years had passed since I had last seen my siblings, I thought about them every day, and missed them terribly. However, at the same time I was scared to see them, what would they think of me, would they still love me? Being back on skid row I despaired that I would ever see them again. I believed I would die, and they would never know. I would become a distant memory, a sister that was lost to them.

Back on the drag I hung out with my fellow addicts. I was back into using as soon as my feet hit skid row, A couple of friends got me high as a welcome home gift. To get my bearings I stayed with them for a few days till her man started getting loopy. I started the vicious cycle of using drugs, and chasing the high. In wainwright, alcohol was my drug of choice. However, because alcohol would cause me to black out, and lose control of my behaviour, it was a rare occurrence for me to drink, while on the street. The drugs I was using kept me from going through alcohol withdrawals, so I was not aware how tightly alcoholism had me in its grip.

I had nothing left, it was stolen by K.B. I just did what came natural to me after being hurt by a person I allowed my self to be vulnerable with. I looked for a client to do business with, some one who I would not have to be emotionally vulnerable with. However, I would not only be meeting a financial need, I would be building my confidence back up, that someone wanted me. My heart was broken, I really did not want to be there, but I resigned myself to the fact that I would probably die on skid row. The possibility of dying was always, in the back of my mind. It had to be, if I rested on my laurels, and relaxed my hyper vigilance, I could find myself in a situation that could end my life. As it was, the danger I placed myself in, even after assessing the situation was precarious enough.

Sometimes I would spend a couple days with pebbles and her man getting high, I really liked Pebbles. However, to them I was just another way for them to access drugs. They did teach me things about getting high though. I think if I knew how dangerous what they were teaching me, I would have had second thoughts about doing them. One of the things they taught me was to use your juggler vein for your drugs. A very dangerous practice, as many things could go wrong and kill you. A new girl showed up and pebbles took an instant liking to her. I could see and feel that I did not have a special spot in Pebbles heart, and it hurt. I left and no longer visited pebbles and her man. I would see them occasionally on the street, but I did not make an attempt to make a connection with them. It just reinforced in my mind that I was not loveable, and people only spent time with me if I had something they wanted to use.

I was to be on the streets this time, for about a year and a half. The winters were the worst season. Especially if you did not have a consistent place to call home. The cold was brutal. Standing outside and then going into a hotel lobby to warm up for a few minutes. The girls were not allowed to stay in the lobby long, as the hotel managers did not want the problems of the R.C. M. P. and the men looking for a girl to hire. More often than not, I did not have proper winter gear, and the cold would make my bones ache. Sometimes, I just wanted to find a place to cuddle up and go to sleep forever. I would think about it, then would shake my head and carry on with my life, such as it was. I would think to myself death would find me soon enough. I just prayed that it would not be a horrific experience.

I met a man that had lost his wife to cancer, and I ended up spending a lot of time with him. When I was with him we would drink together, and even though my alcoholism was in full force, street drugs were still my first drug of choice. However, for me to drink on the streets was extremely dangerous, so when I was working I only used drugs intravenously, I did not drink. I was thinking of my siblings more and more as I missed them so very much! I ended up leaving the streets and moving in with that man, and would go on road trips out to the Ocheese Reservation were he was logging. I was drinking out there, it was the only way I would stay out there and he knew it. He would buy me massive amounts of alcohol, even though it was illegal to bring it onto the reserve. My behaviour when drinking was so bizarre. I was having black outs more frequently, it seemed that it did not matter how much I drank, I was almost guaranteed to black out. I am of the opinion that when I drank my unresolved trauma was being re enacted out, and I would even regress to the age that was being brought forward in my subconscious mind. I can understand how it would be bizarre to someone who did not know the horrors my mind kept locked in a secret place. I suppose when I drank my mind took the opportunity to try and process the trauma.

One winter the man I was staying with and I went to Edmonton. We had an argument about something, I forget what it was, but I ended up going to a bar alone. I thought he went back to the hotel. However, he didn’t he actually went back home. The next morning I went to the hotel and they told me he had checked out. I was stunned, and I panicked what could I do, I didn’t want to stay on the street, it was cold and I was used to warm and comfort to a degree. I really wasn’t dressed to be out in this weather, I had running shoes on and no socks, no mitts no hat, and a old lumber jacket on. I was determined to get back to Dapp though and proceeded to hitchhike. It was really cold, the wind would blow mercilessly on the high way, and there was very little traffic at all! The temperature was 30 below, dangerously cold. It was 72 miles to my destination, I had a very long way to go, but I was determined, and I just put my faith in God that I would make it. I wasn’t afraid of freezing until about two hours in the walk. I was still tipsy from a night of drinking, and after being on the highway, In the cold, I was starting to sober up. The gravity of the situation was not lost on me, and tendrils of fear wrapped around my heart. Thankfully I did get one ride, and they took me to their house gave me socks for my feet and hands and a hat for my head, I was profusely grateful. They were an older couple and could not drive me all the way, but they did take me back out to the High way, after feeding me and letting me warm up.

I thought about my situation while I walked along the highway, and why I was willing to risk my life in such a dangerous way. I mean being with him was not the most ideal situation, but it really was better than being on the streets. My time with K.B showed me that being on the streets really was not what I wanted. I didn’t want to die on the streets. Even though, I had nothing material, I did have my life. I did not want some one to rob me of that too. The man I stayed with had expectations of me, and I really did not want to do anything with him sexually, but I really didn’t have a choice. The alternative was the streets, So I did what I had to do to try and secure a place to stay, off of the streets. I kept walking and finally made it to a restaurant, I was so close, but my legs were giving out on me and I could barley walk. I had walked about 50 miles, in the cold. The only ride I had was that one older couple. The highway was empty, only an occasional trucker would blow past me. I stopped at a store and asked to use their phone. They took one look at me and handed me the phone. I called the man I was staying with, and told him were I was, he was astounded and upset that I didn’t call him to come get me in Edmonton. I had a reason why I didn’t call him. I was afraid if I called him, he would tell me to go to hell and my one chance of getting off the street would be lost. He told me to wait were I was and he would be right there. He showed up about 15 minutes later, I had almost made it! Because I had stopped walking and was in a warm environment , my legs seized up and he had to carry me to the vehicle. I was shivering so bad, and my legs hurt, unbelievable pain!! But I made it I was going to a home were I would be warm, fed and safe, for a price I was willing to pay, even though it broke my heart and soul. My determination was so strong to stay off the streets, and try to make a life for myself. Any kind of life that did not involve surviving on the streets.

One night, for what ever reason, I was feeling extremely vulnerable and sad, I wanted to get high. I found a bottle of cough syrup, and although I never drank cough syrup before I have heard of people drinking it to get high. I thought what could possibly go wrong? For some one who had been around so much death and abuse, I could be extremely naive. I drank the whole bottle, I think it was benydryl. Well, I certainly did get high, but it wasn’t the kind of high I was expecting, it felt strange. I asked the man to come play a word game with me. I remember doctors playing that game with me when I was a child, and I wanted to play it with him. We laughed when we were done, I said your diagnosis is you are crazy, your words make no sense at all. He then said check yours, so I did. The words that popped out at me were like this in this order. “Dry, eyes, cry, tears, happiness.” The most freaky thing happen then, the phone rang and he answered it. He said it is for you. I was dumbfounded who in the world would be calling me here? I didn’t know any one that I gave this number to. Looking back, the strangeness of the situation still causes me pause.

I answered the phone with some trepidation, this can not be a good thing I thought. On the other end a young female voice asked “is this Tammy?’ I said “Yes. the voice went on to say that the man I was staying with, had been making some inquiries and had talked to her mom, who in turn asked her if she knew any children by the name of Tyra. She told her mom yes, I go to school with her and her younger sister and brother. I was in shock, seven years had passed by, and now I had found a lead. I didn’t want to just rush over there and overwhelm them, I mean what if they didn’t want to see me? I asked the young girl if she would be able to give this number to Tyra and tell her Tammy would like to speak with them all if they wanted too. She said sure she could call them and give it to them, she also said, “you know, they talk about you all the time.” I broke, the pain in my heart was almost unbearable. So much time lost, tears streamed down my face. However, they were tears of happiness not sadness, I looked at that piece of paper laying on the table with our word game on it. I thought to my self God truly does work in mysterious ways, and he always had a way of letting me know he was there.”DRY, EYES.CRY, TEARS, HAPPINESS.” The message was clear and I was grateful.

It was the next day that Tyra and the two younger ones called, I was crying and my nose was running, I was heartbroken about all the time that passed, but so grateful that I could once again hear their voices. They wanted me to come out there and see them. I didn’t drive and never would during my life time, I looked at the man and ask him if this would be possible. He said yes. I told them to ask Our Aunt and Uncle if that would be ok. As they were at the youngest girls Dads bother’ and wife’s place. They said it was fine and we made a date to meet up, I was so excited! However, I felt trepidation too. I was afraid I was setting myself up for a heartbreak I would not recover from.

The day we went to go see them we left early in the morning, me not being a morning person, I slept most of the way. I remember my two sisters opening the door and looking at me in shock. I was just as shocked; they were all grown up! They were no longer the little kids that I remembered! One of my sisters said “this is like a dream, and I am afraid to wake up and confirm that it is indeed a dream.” I said “you cant pinch me but you can give me a hug, with a big smile on my face.” All three of them rushed me, and we were all crying with happiness. They took us in gave my friend a coffee, then proceeded to take me around the house. They showed me their bedroom and then reverently opened the bottom drawer, and removed some tissue paper. Laying on the paper was a pair of pants. Pants that I had from when I was at YDC. They said we don’t have any pictures of you but we got these pants from the stuff they sent us, and we kept them all this time. I said do you ever wear them, they looked at me aghast and said no! “These are your pants it is all we have of you, we would just look at them and touch them,never wear them.” It was then that I realized I was not the only one robbed of a family by the system and circumstances, it made me so very sad.

I asked them if they knew were mom was, and they told me yes, ask auntie Val. I was shocked, mom just lived a short way down the block from the York hotel! I could have run into her or walked by her house and not even known it. I was to see my little family one more time, before an interlude of not seeing them again. Our lives were to intersect off and on through the years. I do believe one of the reasons for this is due to the fact that we were separated so much by the child welfare system when we were children.

When it was getting time for our visit to end, we all went for a walk on the gravel country road. All three of them begged me to take them with me. I couldn’t, how I wanted to though! I have to admit it did cross my mind, how I would be able to care of them on the streets. It crossed my mind, but I quickly tossed it away. As much as I wanted to be with them there is nothing in this world that could ever compel me to do that to any child. I really had no means of taking care of them, and I could be charged with kidnapping. I explained that if I ran away with them I could go to jail. I said I would see them again now that I knew were they were. That calmed them down, but the departure was still very painful for me.

I was so stunned that after my friend took me back to his home, I wanted to go the next day to see mom. He agreed, and I got to go see her. When I got to the house I was so nervous, She opened the door and I said Mom! Its me, she just looked at me and open the door and walked away from the .door. It was surreal, it was like I had only been gone a few hours, not years. The lack of emotion when we were reunited hurt, but I disregarded it, I was happy to be in her life. She was living with a iv user that was her man, and a prostitute that used one of the rooms. I was not happy with the situation, and vowed to find a better one.

“Fasten your seat belts it is going to be a bumpy Night” Bette Davis

Tyra:

Leaving Harvey was one of the best things that could have happened for us kids, but what happened next was unexpected. We moved into this place behind the bottle depot, it was a quaint place. It had green carpet, a large bedroom upstairs, that is where I slept, and 2 bedrooms on the main floor. The kitchen seemed to be my place where I would cook the meals for my siblings and myself. Being 13 and having the responsibility of a mother on my head was stressful, and the only way I could deal with the stress was drinking and smoking pot.

During the early part of my binge drinking and smoking pot, I did some crazy stuff. This one time at my friends place the guys dared us to take off our shirts so they could see our breasts. I looked at my friend and said why not. I took off my shirt and the guys being 13-14 years old were in awe. I just did not see the reason for consealing my breasts. My friend still laughs about that to this day. I just wanted to be accepted in the group and if that was the way I needed to go then I did it. I felt a thrill go through me, I was being admired and it felt good.

I had lots of friends that would be smoking pot, so that was easy to come by. Drinking I needed friends that were much older. Getting alcohol came easy for me. The guys would get the alcohol for me and I would drink and get drunk. It seemed to be a weekly thing for me to binge drink. This one guy named Chris was a really cool guy, he would pick me up to teach me how to drive. He would buy me flowers, and he supplied me with alcohol too. We would drive down the dirt roads around Smoky Lake and drink. Then this one evening he decided to let me drive while I was drunk. That was a wild trip, I think I missed the ditch like 3 times then came to a stop and said “I think you should drive now, I am too drunk” we switched places.

This other time I wasn’t drinking and was learning how to drive, and did a donut in the middle of the intersection. It was exhilarating, my heart pumping really fast and when we came to a stop we just laughed like crazy. I couldn’t do a donut if I tried, but here I was doing a donut in the street. We had several driving lessons and the relationship was platonic, so I didn’t see a problem.

Then this one day, I passed out at this guys place and my mom literally kicked my ass all the way home. To this day I am not sure what she was mad at, me not being there for my younger siblings, or that I had a guy in my life that did not take advantage of me. Maybe she had real concern for me. It is confusing when I look back but I did hope it was the latter.

In grade 8 I came up with this plan to help save the children in Ethiopia. I made a suggestion to my class to donate $1.00 a month and we could sponsor one of the children that needed our help. I guess I was more mature than the rest of my class,cause I was serious, but they laughed at me. This could be the reason why I don’t like to talk in front of people. I felt so humiliated, their laughter echoing inside my head like a group banshee wraith. My face burning with shame I went to my seat and did not say another word.

Living in a small town everyone knows everything, and this time was going to be no different. I went to school only to have an individual state “your mom is a drug addict”. I knew what he said was true, but it still hurt me deeply. He looked at with a smirk on his face, I glanced at him, and he sneered. I could not help myself, my heart felt like it was being crushed. I was crying, sobbing, I was mortified. I ran all the way home. Mom came upstairs asking what was wrong and all I said “why can’t you be like other moms? She looked at me, her nightgown hanging like a limp rag, her once beautiful waist length hair, just a mess of tangles and knots. She looked so haggard, I felt a pang of sympathy. When did mom get so rough looking, I thought. Then ,I remembered the boy from school and I became angry all over again. “Why do you need all those pills. They cause you to overdose! Mom?”. Her reaction was one that I was not prepared for. She said “I don’t know”, and she started to cry. After she said that, I just had to be by myself. I would not cry in front of my mom. There had been to many back hands and slaps, when we couldn’t stop crying after she had hurt us. Warningly, she would say “stop your crying or I will give you something to cry about.” She did, more than enough to cry about. I felt smothered by a feeling of loss and I felt so alone. I wanted to comfort my mom, and be comforted by her. That would never happen, so I curled in a ball, and quietly cried my self to sleep.

Our mom had overdosed 3 times and each time she had to be taken to the hospital, a neighbour joked, that at least it saved him money cause he found it more entertain to stay home and watch us. The last time I was so angry, I just could not believe it. There was no empathy for her children, she wanted what she wanted. The problem now was the medical doctors would not prescribe her anymore medication, she had to find herself another physician to fill her fix.

This one day at home something unsual was happening with mom. She came at us with her hands like claws, chasing us, we did not know what was wrong. We asked her to stop what she was doing but didn’t. She was so scary! We called the ambulace to come and get her. The neighbours and other individuals were watching as they took her away again in the ambulance. How could she do this to us? That was the only thought, filling my mind. How long is she to be in the hospital? Everything was up in the air. She was in the hospital for 3 days then sent back home. That was good cause the kids just did not want to listen to me as they were so upset over the situation.

Having to get her drugs, she decided to take us to Edmonton to see her psychiatrist. What happened next just blew me away! All of us kids were taken away again. We were put in a receiving home to wait for our mother to get better. We were there for about a month. Us kids wanted to get back home, we missed it, the familiar. We wanted to be reunited, with the kids brave enough to be our friends. There wasn’t many, but there was enough, and we missed them. Promises were made, she would get better and it would not be long, days went into weeks and then we went to a permanent foster home in country.

This time it was different, I knew this was the end of us going back to our mom. I had a sicking feeling in my stomach.It felt foreboding to me, like I was waiting for my executioner to come take me away. Mom was so unstable and needed help for her mental condition. I was too young at that time to realize she started a rapid decline after her love affair, with the man that abused my big sister over a period of years, had ended. Sadly for me, it didn’t end soon enough, and he tried to replace Tammy with me, and I was sexually abused.

I am not sure what moms condition was but it was not good. We would visit and ask how much longer it would be for her to get better and she would say a few more months. She seemed so frail to me, her skin kinda looked yellow. Her hair, her once crown and jewel was now stringy and looked greasy. It was short, a lot shorter. It wasn’t the same any more. She wasn’t scary to me any more. Hearing on a regular basis that mom wasn’t well enough to come home-was difficult for the youngest ones. They would always ask if we could go back and I would tell them no. I would let them cry and hug them and say everything will be fine. Down deep I was hurting too,I felt I needed to be strong for the youngest ones. It was an odd feeling, being torn, I was grieving the loss of a mother I never had, and raging at the one I did.

Tanya and I always shared a room and a bed. We would lay in bed and tell funny stories and laugh. Man did that ever make the foster mom mad. She would tell us to quiet down and go to sleep. It was hard to do sometimes as we needed the laughter and not sleep. Sometimes, when Tanya and I were giggling, it would remind me of times Tammy and I would giggle together too. My heart would twist, and I would say a quick prayer, please look after my sister dear God, and then I,would have to turn my thought away, it hurt much..I missed her.

Trevor was always up to something. When he was in school he broke both of his arms at the same time! He was playing on the monkey bars and fell head first. He crossed his arms to protect his head, and all his weight must have impacted his arms! Must say for a kid in grade 2, he was pretty smart to protect himself like that. Looking back it was like foretelling, his life would be one of protecting himself, and being brutalized. I was upset that I had to find out after school, but he did not have a head injury, two broken arms was more than enough.

Trevor would say things that were not nice, sometimes down right mean, not that he had great role models. The foster mom would call him names, I would get mad right away and say “don’t be calling him names, he does not deserve that.” She just looked at me, shocked, that someone my age would be so brave as to confront an adult. I knew how much it hurt to be called names that were not true. Those hateful names people call each other, the hurt it causes can affect them for life. I still hold this thought near and dear to my heart. If she called him a name it would be when I was not around. Trevor never told me otherwise either. My comment must have struck a nerve in this lady, I believed in my young mind, I was a protector.

Living with a grandma and grandpa had its advantages and disadvantages. They spoiled us with clothes all the time. It was nice to have more than one set of clothes. Our grandma had great taste in clothes. Having so many choices of clothes, it reminded me of when we were in Vancouver. Mom had bought Tammy and I one pairs of pants each for school. They were the ugliest green pants I had ever seen. One pair was a limey green, kinda fuzzy texture, the other pair was those shiny, polyester? Ones. Tammy and I traded back and forth those two pairs of ugly green pants so people wouldn’t know we only had one pair each. I think we told ourselves that any way.

You must think we were really poor, if we could only have one pair each. This was not the case, though, and I feel a little ashamed that our mother thought so little of us. Her closet was brimming with clothes. Beautiful colours, purples, reds, pinks, so many colours but no green. Now that I think about it, I can not recall one time, mom was ever with out an array of clothes to choose from. Us kids might go to school a couple weeks out of every month with no lunches, but mom always had beautiful clothes.

During this time, we did see our mom for visits, but something always happened where we were not able to go back. Then court time came, and it was a horrible experience for me. Mom was acting like a teenager, my dad was telling lies, and us kids just wanted to be happy. Everyone seemed to have an agenda at this court meeting. Mom was trying to get us back. She had enough practice, throughout the years, that I guess she felt it was ok to goof off. My dad was portraying me like I was a vicious troubled, misbehaving, delinquent.

The child welfare workers, stood watching with detached interest, the family dynamics unfold before them. I looked around the room, and thought, there is not one adult, in that room, with my best interests at heart. Then like a cold blast of water to the face, shockingly, I realized, the only adults that ever had my best my interest, was my foster mom and dad when I was a baby. I was given three years Grace, to be loved, and I am so grateful to have had them. With a gut wrenching realization, I had an understanding. Why I wasn’t there, was represented by those two child welfare workers, who worked for government. A wave of heat washed over me as a truth, I did not want to face, demanded to be acknowledged. There would never be an adult in my life there for the sad little remnants that I had left of my little girl self. I grew up in that moment and there was no going back, my heart broke as the last pieces of my little girl self fell away. I was 14 years old, I was an adult.

(Jefferson Airplane -White Rabbit) “Don’t you want somebody to love you…”

Tammy:

After being told to go to the school with my suit case, I was picked up by my social worker after classes were done. I was taken to a receiving home. A temporary placement, until I went to my permanent home. I didn’t know that the people I lived with, worked for the youth assessment center, and took many children into their home that were headed for institutionalization. I liked this couple and even asked to stay with them. They said no and explained that they do not keep any children permanently. This just reaffirmed for me that no one wanted me, and that I was unlovable. The one saving grace is I was able to continue attending Hillcrest, at least until I was taken to my permanent placeDur my time there I was able to visit my family one more time before I went to my permanent placement.

They were living in smokey lake at that time and it was a funny experience for me. I did not spend much time with my mother at all. However, spent all my short visit with my siblings. They showed me around the house, and the barn yard. We were all in the barn yard and there was this goat, I was scared of it. “HAHA” When that dang goat started running up to me I got freaked out and ran towards a shed screaming , which scared the younger ones and they ran screaming behind me. The youngest sibling being the smallest was lagging behind and climbed the shed door and got his foot stuck on the top of the door and just hung there.

I would like to say I was brave and protected the young ones, but quite the contrary it was their goat they needed to protect me!! When I got over my fright, I stopped and looked at the situation and let out a whopping Laugh; my mom said she could hear me all the way to the house from the barn yard, my laughter that is. My siblings were shocked to hear such a loud booming laugh. I suppose the shock was because I was typically very quiet.Then they started laughing too. That was the last time I ever genuinely ever laughed for a very very long time. This was to be the last time I would see My brother and sisters for many years.

I wasn’t with my temporary family more than a couple of weeks before I was once again told to pack and be ready to go to my new placement. I really wish I could have stayed with them, I think I would have done well there. However, the wife was very close to having her child, and they were not taking in any more troubled children.

You can imagine my shock and confusion when they took me to Edmonton Juvenile Detention center. My Social Worker didn’t say anything to me, she just took me into the intake office and left straight away. I think it pained her to be taking me to that place.I was to never see her again as she transferred from child welfare to another department. I can’t say that I blame her, At this time the Juvenile Delinquent system was set up as such that you did not have to commit a crime to be incarcerated in a correctional facility. I was placed with children who had committed crimes, some times very serious ones. I was naive about crime and drugs, but I learned a lot. The JDA was such that they could imprison any minor up to 21 years old without ever charging them with a crime, convicting them and sentences.

It was a very bad time for youth who got caught up in the JD system. However, I was just a traumatized child, who had been abused her entire life.The detention center was meant to be a temporary placement as well and they could only hold you there for three months before they had to place you in a permanent institution. I was in the Detention center for five months? I didn’t care one place was as good as the next. At this time I was not on any prescribed medicine. I was an abused youth with untreated mental illness, who pretty much kept to herself and tried not to cause trouble. I was housed with very worldly youth who were iv drug user’s and prostitutes. They were very hardened and jaded, and did not think life had very much to offer them, it was really sad. They talked about suicide like it was a fairy tale, and would be happily ever after if their lives were ended. A lot of children in care committed suicide, it just rarely was talked about in the press, since the amount of suicides were so overwhelming.

“A tribute to Richard Cardinal, a Métis adolescent who committed suicide in 1984. He had been taken from his home at the age of four because of family problems, and spent the rest of his seventeen short years moving in and out of twenty-eight foster homes, group homes and shelters in Alberta.”

During my time in the detention centre and YDC institution, there were many youth that I befriended. It always render my heart, when I would hear from staff or former residents that came back, tell me that a friend had ended their life. I am talking about girls and boys, some as young as 12 ending their life, because the contemplation of their future was to hard and to bare. This was a shameful time in our history, it is my hopes we do not repeat it. That we learn from the mistakes and go forward with a new purpose. To save the children of today. One child ending their life, is one to many.

When I first went to lock up I was about 12 years old. I was 14 and a half when I left, lock up entirely. In total I was locked up for almost three years, and had seven more years to look forward to under the JD system, for committing no crime and not being a danger to myself or others. I never drank or did Drugs, unless with my mom which wasn’t often. Smoking cigarettes was not illegal for minors at that time, so even that was not a crime. My only crime was being my mothers daughter. During this time I did not see or talk to my siblings at all, I am sure mom would not allow it.

My time in Detention was pretty tame, I just ate , went to school in the facility, and stayed in my room. They did crafts once in a while, that I participated in. I never went outside, and the only out side contact I had was the staff that came to work every day, or new intakes that usually just came off the street literally. The average age of the teens that came was 13 to 15, I was the youngest Female JD in lock up at that time. The children that came in were typically iv users and prostitutes or in a gang, or sexual predators. Yes, there were teens in there that were sexual predators. They were teaching me things I never knew about, my world of abuse with my mom was so small as she hid us from the outside world to hide us from being taken away. Even though, I was locked up my world was expanding, and what I was hearing was that the world was not a safe place for children like me, and I was doomed to die a horrible, painful death. Unbeknownst to me things were going to go from bad to worse.”

The youngest JD in lock up was a ten year old boy, who said he accidentally shot his sister with his dads rifle. It was heartbreaking to hear him share his pain and grief. Some of the older boys from his unit said that the courts were pushing hard to try him as an adult. They said that if they succeeded he would be put into an adult population, prison system. Under the now defunct JD system they very easily could do this. We did not have any rights under this atrocious system.

Keep Youth Out of Adult Courts, Jails, and Prisons

Currently an estimated 250,000 youth are tried, sentenced, or incarcerated as adults every year across the United States. During the 1990s—the era when many of our most punitive criminal justice policies were developed—49 states altered their laws to increase the number of minors being tried as adults. On any given day, 10,000 youth are detained or incarcerated in adult jails and prisons. Studies show that youth held in adult facilities are 36 times more likely to commit suicide and are at the greatest risk of sexual victimization. An excerpt from: National Juvenile Justice Network. If this is still happening today, just think for a moment how easy it was under the JD system to incarcerate this ten year old boy and put him in an adult prison.

That man that I stayed with, in the temporary foster home, on the outside worked at a facility that was joined to the Detention center, a place called Youth assessment center, or “YAC” for short. A place for troubled youth were they go through treatment and counselling, nothing like detention or the place I was headed for. I seen him once through an opening we’re, we collected our food trays. He would not even look at me, I think it was a foreshadowing of what was going to happen to me. He knew me and he knew I did not belong in lock up, but he and his wife would not keep me so this lock up was to become my new place of surviving. There were no more options for me as far as the government was concerned. I was a ward of the government, and there was no going back.

Down the White Rabbit Hole” Part 2, a continuation of what it was like under the now defunct Juvenile Delinquent system.

After all my excitement of not having to go home my mind shifted to “where are we going?”. School was out and the social worker was there to pick me up, but I was the only one in the car. Where are the others? The social worker stated that I would be with them soon when we get to the office downtown. I just did not know what to expect with all this again.

The physical abuse was too much for me to bare. It was affecting everything that I did. As Tammy did say, if we cried we would just get more, so instead of crying I laughed it off until I was alone in my bed. Then I cried myself to sleep.

Living with the unknown is hard on children, and it was no different for us. We just wondered if we were going to be together or be separated. Our greatest fear came true because Tammy was sent to a different home than the three of us.

A receiving home is a place that you go until social services can find a permanent location for you. We had 2 receiving homes before the permanent one.

The first receiving home was a nice place, out in the country, just out of the Sherwood Park area. The family already had 2 foster children living with them. I begun to tell the foster mom why we were taken away, she had no sympathy for our situation she just stated “there is always someone out there that had it worse than you…”. This statement made a huge impact on my life and how I pictured the abuse that I had endured. The foster mom started telling me the story of the two foster children that were living with her, their story was so much worse than my story so I just became silent and kept to myself. I guess this is where I learnt that maybe just maybe the abuse was not that bad. We did not stay at that home very long, maybe a week. Then off to another home.

This foster home had 2 young girls, the foster mom stayed home and the dad worked. Having to start school in a new district really sucked. It was late in the year and having all the stress of being abused, taken away, having 3 (one was our mom’s home)and 2 different foster homes in a matter 2 months did not help with the adjustment to new school. Our little brother had a temper at times and he was only 3 or 4 years old at this time, he was playing with a purse in the basement of this foster home and swung it and hit one of the families little girls. The little girl said that he did it on purpose, the foster mom was very upset and called the social worker. Trevor was removed from that home and Tanya and I were again by ourselves. Trevor was placed in a boys group home.

It was during the summer they had taken us out to Elk Island Park and we played in the water as it was a hot day, not knowing what would happen. The next day we woke up with this rash all over, the family thought it was the chicken pox, so off to the doctors we go. There we found out that we had gotten swimmers itch, it was horrible. These bumps were so itchy, calamine lotion is the only stuff that worked to take the itch away for awhile.

After the school year was done, we were placed in a permanent foster home. This foster home was with this old lady Vivian. Tanya and I shared a room and the adopted daughter was in her own room. I remember having that calamine lotion on me all over and riding a bike around and around the complex. We were not allowed to go on the street but there was a sidewalk that went in a circle and we rode there all day. Then we would pick wild berries, my first time trying saskatoons and I think more went in my mouth than in my bucket, yummy so good. Wild strawberries well that is another story, those suckers were so small that took forever to even get a layer on the bottom of the pail. I got bored of doing this but ended up picking until it was time to leave. Man was I happy about being done.

Then school came and I was so ashamed about failing that my self esteem paid the price. During school time I just did my work and did not do much else, as I felt that I should be with the grade 6 class not the grade 5 class. My marks did not reflect that I had taken it twice. As during the grade 5 year there was a lot of abuse and other things to focus on than just school. That is when I realized that I indeed needed to repeat my grade.

Then came the home visits, where we would go visit our mom for maybe 2-3 hrs at a time. I did not want to go on those visits I was scared of the blame, and also abuse. The first visit I remember was on Whyte Ave, she was staying with Harvey again so here we were again exposed to the pedophile that abused us. Our mother did not care for us I thought, she wanted her man more than she cared for us. We were made to go, also I did not want Tanya to go by herself. I knew deep down that our mom’s behaviour did not change, I knew she did not deserve to have us back, she really knew how to work the system in her favor.

The instances that Tammy talk about in the beginning of this post, I do not remember. I remember me wanting to be a figure skater and spent hours on the ice. I would fall so much my knees were bruised really bad. I just could not stop the gliding on the ice I just felt free. Looking back now I think that is profound for a 10 year old to be feeling. Enduring the falls and getting back up has been a common theme in my life as you will see in later posts.

The time was to go back and live with our mom. I begged them not to send us back, for us to be able to stay where we were. At Vivians wasnt great but it sure the hell was better than what we are going back to. My plea’s were not heard as my siblings decided to go back to our mom.

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.