Inescapable Clouds

The sunshine, warmer temperatures and spring storms of May once brought me both into and out of some of my life’s most intense storms.

Until I was 12 years old, I’d lived in a storm of abuse, alcoholism, domestic violence, and negativity that was my home - my family.  I’d been introduced to sex too early in far too many experiences. I’d witnessed my father crack my mother’s head on a kitchen cabinet and tip a table full of our dinner over for one too few pork chops. I’d heard of my own worthlessness and stupidity more than I could count, and had become very familiar with the sound of a cracking belt or the whistle of a fly-swatter, as it flew through the air.  I’d felt the sting of my parents hand and the burn of their words.  It was like the storm sirens were going off around me every day and I couldn’t escape…I could only survive…find a shelter, dig in, and be determined to make it through. 

In May 1990, I found myself entering a new storm season…unfamiliar and uncontrollable. It was like a strong and ferocious wind that would blow me around like a leaf that couldn’t find a place to land. It seemed like I was watching a tornado that kept changing course, a hurricane that twisted off course, a flood that would fill every crack it could find.  I was entering a major storm that would completely change the destiny of anyone who could survive.

I was in foster care. 

I would spend the next six years of my life blowing in the wind, at the whim of my case workers, my therapists, the court, the group home staff, and anyone else who felt they knew what was in my “best interest.”  Over the course of my stay in foster care, I would experience 7 moves, each with a big trash bag full of my belongings.  Each with good-byes and “we’ll keep in touch” that never really did and each with strange and uncomfortable “hello” and “we’re glad you’re here.”  Each move brought new rules and new expectations, with very little regard for who I really was and I really needed.  Each new home introduced me to new and unfamiliar traditions, roles, and relationships.  Each move meant I had to change…like that little leaf was being chipped away and beaten against the trees, losing little tiny pieces with each flip of the wind.

The scariest clouds, however, were in the faces of those that looked down on me because I was “a foster kid”; the faces that seemed to scream “we know where you’ll end up.” There were many eyes that looked at me with pity – piercing my heart and my spirit. There were eyes completely devoid of encouragement.  Perhaps, worst of all, was the judgment, especially as a teen in foster care, when people asked “what did you do?” like I had done something to cause the storms in my life. 

Storms, however, are always followed by sunshine and my time in foster care was no different.  The sunshine would come when I’d finally feel like I fit in or belonged. The warmth would show up in the hug of a loving foster family or in those moments when I felt “normal”. At times, I could breathe in and the air didn’t smell like rain was coming.  I was lucky to find some safety and security in high school – a place that never had to change even when the storms around me were so unpredictable.  I could feel confident, competent, and successful.  I could believe that I had value and I felt worthy.  I belonged.  I knew I had a place.  I was connected. I knew something else was waiting for me, beyond the clouds, and I could reach for it.  I could survive this storm!

Determination became my lifeline.  I developed a determination to prove the clouds and the faces wrong…to clear away the storms…to change my life.  I became focused on a larger goal – making the storms mean something and to chance the world.  I set goals and I learned what I had to do to get to the other side.  I worked hard and I accomplished something amazing. I married my high school sweetheart and had four amazing kiddos. I went to college, the first in my family to do so, and earned a bachelor’s degree in Psychology & Family Counseling and went on to earn a master’s degree in Social Work.  I am changing my family tree and creating a new season of life.  I’m proud of myself and I am happy with my life.  I have dedicated my life’s work to improving foster care and to being an example to all those children, youth, and families of the sunshine after the storm.

So, why are the clouds inescapable?  Why do I still see the faces of judgment and question? Why do I still hear the discouraging words and feel the sting of doubt? Why do I still have to prove myself?  Why do people still question if I’m good enough, worthy enough, or strong enough?  Why do people assume that you have to come from a good family to be a good person, capable to great things?  What will it take to prove those people wrong? Is it even possible?  There are days when I wonder.

Unfortunately, there are those who will never be willing to recognize the sunshine in our lives.  There will always be those people who will always see us as “foster kids” and will put us in that box.  There will always be people who believe we aren’t good enough, strong enough, or worthy enough. 

The sunshine in this storm is that THEY don’t matter!  WE MATTER!  We are strong. We are courageous.  We are determined. We are capable. We are competent. We are survivors. We are encouragers. We are proof that good things happen after the storm.  We are accomplished. We are changing the world. We are changing our family trees.  Keep fighting the clouds. Keep digging in and hanging on! Eventually, the clouds will break and they’ll see the sunshine.

**ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN FOSTER FOCUS MAGAZINE APRIL 2013 www.fosterfocusmag.com