Let’s Talk About Surviving

By Princess

I am struggling with which direction I want to take this blog. I keep trying to write a perfect entry, but the reality is, my childhood was far from perfect. It was dark, it was messy, and I was in the constant state of survival mode to protect my siblings and myself.   

My biological mom did not believe in Western medicine. Whenever we were sick and needed any type of health care, she would create her own concoction and give it to us. None of them ever worked… but in her mind, that was enough for us.   

I remember the time I thought I could be a normal child—I was jumping up and down on a bed and for a minute I felt the rush of what it feels like to be a kid having fun. But reality hit after I fell face first on the floor ending up with a goose egg on my forehead. I knew instantly I would be in trouble and there was no hiding the fact that I was doing something I should not have been. My biological mom came up, saw what happened and left the room. I remember standing there with tears streaming down my face, wondering what she would choose to beat me with this time. She came back with a little bottle... she poured the liquid from the bottle into the palm of her hand and then rubbed it on my forehead. I thought, “today is my lucky day.” Until she began to push the goose egg back in. From that moment on, I learned to not complain when I was in pain.   

Have you ever had an out-of-body experience within a dream? Where you can see and hear everything around you, but no one can see or hear you. You feel trapped and you are screaming for help but still, no one can hear you. That was me in Grade 1. I was put into a special needs class because they thought I was a mute. It was not because I didn’t know how to talk. I just couldn’t. What does one say after watching a sibling pass and enduring so much trauma at such a young age? When I could not use my own voice, the adults who should have been caring for me and advocating on my behalf often said, “she looks like a deer in the headlights”. I was temporarily mute, not deaf. I heard and understood everything around me. As I mentioned before, I learned to not complain when I was in pain... and I was in a great deal of it back then.   

If anyone had taken the time to try to understand me, or even simply to look me in the eyes... they would have felt me screaming for help, from the inside. But I was a write-off from the first day I entered foster care. Deemed hopeless... just another child which had been broken beyond repair.   

My education was hindered from the start. What I needed was a support system. Someone to take their time with me. Getting moved from family to family, you tend to lose your focus. You aren’t in class trying to learn your times tables... you’re in class wondering if you’ll still be with your current family today, tomorrow and the following days. As I got older, things changed. I was falling further behind in school, but I started to use my voice. This was new for me, so I didn’t know how to use it properly. I started to act out in class, but I was really saying, “I NEED HELP”. No one could understand that. Instead, I continued to get passed on to the next grade, only retaining the lessons I taught myself from each foster home.   

Unfortunately, this is the reality for many young people in the child welfare system. We are often overlooked and marked as “difficult," “uncontrollable” or “a lost cause”.    

My education became important to me once I was adopted and not worrying about the ground being pulled out from under me. My family provided me with the support and tools I needed to succeed but it was up to me to do the work. I could allow myself to fall through the cracks of society and continue to be overlooked, or I could use the resources that were available to me and put in the hard work that was needed. I had years of catching up to do... it all seemed impossible. But it wasn’t, and I did it.   

You know, I have never taken the time to acknowledge that until now.   

Education should not be looked at as a nonviable option but this is how many of us from care feel. I graduated high school and moved to London, Ontario to continue my studies. I was able to do this because I finally had someone to take a moment to see that I was suffering and needed help.   

All anyone ever wants is to know they are loved and supported. You would be surprised how far one can go just by knowing they have someone in their corner. In my case, that “someone” would be my whole family. 

Is there someone in your life that has the same impact on you? And if so, why not reach out to them today?  

The opinions expressed in blogs posted reflect their author and do not represent any official stance of Adopt4Life. We respect the diversity of opinions within the adoption, kinship and customary care community and hope that these posts will stimulate meaningful conversations.