Making my circle smaller

Once upon a time, I had the perfect friend. We were literally two peas in a pod. Inseparable. I adored her and her daughter. Our friendship fell apart due to my insecurities. I never told her about my first ten years and really didn't let on as anything at home. It's not that I didn't trust her. 

Let me explain. If I told people about my past. It all of a sudden made it real. I was allowing myself to be... Viewed as weak I suppose. I didn't want anyone viewing me as weak. I didn't need pity. I didn't want any of it to be real. I wanted to forget. This all hurt too much but part of it hurt more by keeping the secret. 

The first time I told someone, I was 29 years old. I was driving my friends mom to the airport. I have known this family for 21 years. They are family. She yelled at me for speaking poorly of my mother. It all came out. It was like word vomit. I couldn't stop it. I talked and talked and talked. It took about 40 minutes to get to the airport. When I dropped her off. She looked at me and said "I have known your mother for 19 years. She's not a bad person." That was the last time I ever let anyone close to knowing again. Until a few weeks ago. I do share my experience with students and colleagues but not a soul from my past knows. 

The friendship in which my own insecurities destroyed is in the process of rekindling. I have been putting off telling her. I knew I needed to. I was fearful for so many different reasons. One big reason is her not believing me. Another one, rejection. I invited her to read a recent post I wrote about my past. It was raw but not the worst of the worst. 

She didn't reject me. She believes me. I'm sure she's hurt I didn't tell her but she accepts that the hurt I was feeling was greater. She truly is an amazing person, friend, and mother. 

She shared something with me shortly after we got back in contact. I reached out because I was stressed with all the parenting comments I was getting and she told me to keep my circle small. I listened but I didn't truly hear her. I've had to make some choices in regards to friendships this week that made my circle grow smaller. It hurt my heart and still does. Her insecurities hurt me more though. Looking back and seeing what insecurities can do to someone is astounding. I've been on both ends. It seems to really boil down to trust and communication. Something I struggle with. Both things I am working on. 

My fears are coming back today. I'm sitting at the airport waiting to fly home. My dad has invited all the kids over for my brother's birthday. We will all be together except two of my siblings. I will do what I need to do because I respect my dad more than anything in this world. I'm fearful it won't be easy. But I also think I will be surprised about how easy it will be. 

Until later. 

-K

Side note. This is my first time flying as a mom. I'm a little sad I can't flirt and pick up cute single travelers. Silly I know but oh my goodness. Some of these guys!!! 😍 one day.... 

Bug Update

Little miss thing has been on a roller-coaster of emotions since I last updated. 3 weeks before court, her mom was arrested for GTA but "It wasn't her fault." Figure that one out. So Bug missed two weeks of visits. Which was amazing. No behavioral challenges, no upset tummy, just a normal, healthy, almost two year old. One week before court, she was released. She had one visit with her before court. I went to bed crying every night. All of her behaviors she came to me with came back times ten. Hitting, scratching, biting, self harm, attacking the animals, and so much more.

The day of court was a visit day. The day my stud muffin decided to run around the desert like a maniac. I showed up at court and mom did not. We got started after waiting for a bit. The judge asked me to speak. Here's the challenging part of me going into court as a foster mom. Every single judge and attorney in that building, CASA's and GAL's know me as therapist Kerri, not foster mom Kerri. I respect that they respect me in that light, but I do not want to be put on a pedestal as a foster mom due to my profession. I talked about the upset stomach, the vomiting, the diarrhea, coming home smelling like meth after visits, the behaviors, the nightmares, I talked about everything. I wanted the court to know because it was important they knew. I was not expecting the attorney to request visits to end. To be honest, that was the last thing that needed to happen. She needs consistency. She needs to know what to expect. The not showing up for visits or getting locked up is too much for this kid.

The judge took the visits down to once weekly and ordered that I send her lunch and mom is not to feed her anything but what I bring. This has been working well. She no longer has diarrhea or throws up on visit days and her behaviors are pretty much back to normal two year old stuff. She has had two days in which she did throw up after visit. Both days I found stuff in the lunch bag I didn't send. I let the DCS cm know. I know he will follow up. He is great.

I was matched for number two. I am supposed to pick her up in a few weeks after my trip. The thing behind this is two families were matched with her. So they have to choose who they want. I'm a little annoyed by that. Just get the baby out of the group home. If the other parent can take her first, go get her now. Don't wait around and let her sit in group care. What do I know though...

-K

Me

One of my earliest memories as a child comes from when I was 4 years old. I was sitting on a bed. The posts were made from wood and smelled of oak. My family lived in Wisconsin. I sat there crossed legged and brushed my barbie's hair. I heard yelling and screaming. My oldest sister came running down the hall. I froze. My heart was racing. I knew what was happening because it happened almost daily. Then ran my mom after her. She ran by my door. Came back, smiled at me, and shut my door. I could hear screams from my sister. She was getting it again.

This was how the first ten years of my life went. I have so many memories of similar things. Sometimes as a small child, I would tip toe in the house looking for broken things. If things were broken, it was going to be a bad day and I better just be quiet and do as I was told. My eldest sister took the brunt of it. So many bruises over the years. My mother tried killing her once or twice too, that I know of.

I have reoccurring nightmares. One of them is my mother holding my sister under water trying to kill her. She wanted her dead so she could raise my niece as her own daughter. I have this dream a few times a month.

I never knew how to respond to my sister when she was covered in bruises. I hugged her leg a lot. She is much older then me. In fact, she is my attachment figure. She basically raised me until I was ten. She would get up when I couldn't breathe and get my inhaler. She is who showed me kindness and understanding. I wouldn't be me without her.

I remember when I was 9, the abuse had peaked. I started acting up in school. I suppose to get attention or help. So my mom wouldn't let me go back to school. My sister was pregnant by an older married man. She was 20 at the time I think. I desperately wanted help. Wanted a normal life. I was so confused. One day my mom would beat the crap out of her, leaving her near death and the next she would hold her hand in the van. I remember so many times freezing up when she would reach for her hand in the van. How in the world could she be so hateful and then try to love her.

When I was ten, I don't know the details, but somehow my mom ended up in a psychiatric facility. We were now living in New york. We would visit here and there. Nothing special. On Christmas that year, I got a doll house. A wooden doll house and a vest from my big sister that I wanted so badly. The doll house was something I had wanted for years and years and years. I couldn't believe my eyes Christmas morning. I finally got my doll house. The next day, December 26, 1994 my mother kidnapped me. She had convinced a nurse from the psych unit to help her. They gave me a new name and birth-date. I didn't see my family again until 5 years later. In that time we moved to England once and back to Arizona. I wasnt being abused. She hit me once and I threatened her that if she ever hit me again, that would be the last time she ever saw me.

I went home once. I was 15. At this point, I had been raising myself for the past five years. No one told me what to do or how to do it. I went home to my father, new step mother, new baby sister, and my other siblings. As soon as the honey moon ended, the fights began. I rebelled pretty bad. I came back to my mother shortly before Christmas. And continued to live my life how I wanted to live it. I partied, hard. I was in adult relationships, with adult men by the time I was 16. My 23 year old boyfriend lived in my home when I was 16 and had a much older boyfriend when I was 17. I dropped out of school and got a job. I lived the life every teen thinks they want to live. I was also smoking a pack a day by the age of 13.At some point, my sisters stopped talking to me, blamed me for the abuse, and the kidnapping.

I remember the last call I made to my older sister's home. I was just a kid. Maybe 17. I called my sister on Thanksgiving to wish the family a happy thanksgiving. I called and my niece picked up. I could hear my sister yelling in the back ground telling her to hang it up. I thought maybe she was mistaken and didn't know it was me. So I called again. My dad answered. Told me they didn't want to speak to me. And I hung up and cried. For hours. Alone. I was alone. I now had no one. At least before I had siblings by phone.

Somewhere along the way, a horse changed my life. Spirit. I was looking at the paper which I never ever did and saw an article for rescue horses, PMU's out of Canada. I immediately was drawn to him. I did everything I could to earn the money for that horse. I didn't see how he was changing me at the time, but as I look back now. He saved my life.


I got back in school.I was working between 2-4 jobs at one time. First many associates, my bachelors, and my masters. And here I am. I have had many bumps along the way. Spirit passed away the week I started my graduate program. He was such an abused soul but trusted me 100% just as I trusted him. I sat at his feet and cried hundreds of times and hundreds of times he nuzzled me, letting me know it would be okay.

My sister J and I reconnected a few years ago. Maybe about 5. We would talk on and off and we got close then separated by life. She stopped talking to me again after an argument. I invited her to join me on a trip to New York to visit my dad. She blew up at me and said some hurtful things. Last year, I returned to New York after not being home for 15 years. My father had heart surgery and died during surgery. They brought him back and I wasn't going to live another day in regret. I went home. New York, after all these years, is where I consider home. I was able to create a relationship with my baby sister who is just 19, strengthen mine with my dad, and older brother, and meet with my older sister and have dinner. I thought life would finally get back on track. I would have my siblings and I would be whole.

I was wrong. When I got baby M, I was excited and text my sisters pictures. The only one who responded was my baby sister. The other two never responded. That hurt. Around mother's day, my big sister asked for my address. I thought it was weird. She wished me a happy mother's day telling me she forgot I fit in that category. I was so stupid. For weeks I thought she was going to send me something special. I was a mom now. She was my mom growing up and I thought maybe she was going to like recognize that. I don't know... When y baby sister was here 2 weeks ago, I got a letter in the mail addressed to my mom from New York state Child Support. My sister had taken my mom for child support years and years and years ago. She claimed she was raising my sisters and she wanted money. I was so hurt that she would do this right now. She thinks my mother is living with me. Shes not! I sent it back and I wrote her a decent email. Expressing my hurt also anger and letting her know my mother has not been in my life since 2011. She got angry with me and that was that.

Here's the challenge to all this. Why I'm writing it. I wanted to move home to be closer to my real family. Something I have wished and hoped for, for years. I was making plans. After baby M is either reunified or adopted, I was going home. I don't think its possible for me to do this now. I do not want to create a wedge between my father and his children. Life has been okay for him with me out here and them out there. I don't want to create a wedge between him and them. I leave in one 9 days to spend a week in New York with baby M. I need to have this conversation with him. I dont want to hurt him. Or make him angry with them. Its not a me or them situation at all and I dont want them to do that to him.

I need to be able to define home. I am getting older and still feel as if I have no home.Lets see how this trip goes.

-K

Respite O and M

I took respite two more times over the past month. The first one was little miss O. Oh how I loved her. Such a beautiful incredible little angel. Precious as can be. She is biracial and I very quickly had to learn her hair. Between her teenage attitude at 3 and her hair, that was our biggest struggle, otherwise, she was a joy and a pleasure to have.

Miss M. Oh my goodness Miss M. She has some pretty significant trauma and attachment issues. She is 3 and had 6 moves in 6 months. I was told by her previous placement that hes loud but no behavioral challenges and she cannot see why she has had so many disruptions.... Let me list some behaviors for y'all: fecal smearing, inappropriate boundaries, sexualized behaviors, peeing on my foster child's face, peeing on my couch because I spoke with her therapist, hitting, screaming in my face, cursing, kicking, biting, killing a baby bird.... the list continues. This poor child was out of control seeking some ways of being in control of her environment. I barely made it through the week. I joyously kissed her goodnight each night because it meant a break for me. It was a challneged.

The thing that challenged me the most was seeing my little one get abused by another child. That was so hard. She doesn't understand enough for me to explain little M is hurting. She didn't understand why she was being cursed at or that those words were wrong to say. It hurt my heart. I reached out to the licensing worker assigned to this kiddo's family for support and she ignored my reach. So I fought through it.

My next conversation was with my licensing worker. I told her I would no longer do any children older than baby now toddler M. I would not put her through this again. Toddler M would always be the oldest in my home. I got push back but I am going to stay firm. I know everyone wants the babies. I get that. But guess what?? There are many many babies sitting in group care that could be in a home. So I have my secong crib (sitting in a pile of wood on my living room floor) and I am only doing children younger. I will not put her through that again.

Am I crazy?

 K