After delving into the darkest regions of my past, I couldn't get to sleep. So here I am, trying to clear th cobwebs away.
There is part of my life, where I had just entered into foster care and my life blurred. I dont' remember a lot of that time in my life. There are a few events that really stand out. But for the most part I have let that part of my life fade away. I was so scared and so unhappy that I did a lot of things that probably made everything worse. I was a troubled child who didn't know what do do or who to trust.
But the reason I can't sleep is I wish I had treated some people differently. I wish I thanked some of the bit players in that scene and respected the stage hands who were only trying to help. Looking back I see that time in a different perspective. I understand why my foster parents where ready to give up on me. I was a difficult and disruptive child who lashed out at everyone out of fear and distrust. It's easy to remember the hurt and pain, but when I suddenly realize that my perspective was just as warpped as my mothers.....well, I wish I could go back and change some things.
I wish I had treated my therapist with more respect. I don't remember her name, but she was young, mid 20s at most. our first few meetings, she tried to gain my trust by meeting with me at an ice cream shop by the lake. It was a nice little place and I don't remember much of our conversation, but I liked her. That scared me, so that night at home, I told my foster parents something rude about how "she was fake and dumb and trying to bribe me". Of course, the ice cream talks dissapeared shortly after that. I wish I could go back to her and tell her I'm sorry. That when I go home, I see that Ice cream shop and I think of her and how she was honestly trying to be nice to me.....and I'm sorry to have hurt her. I know I did because I remember the look in her eyes and realizing I had changed everything. i don't think she ever trusted me after that. I still feel bad about that....about the fact I could be so mean to someone else.
I wish I had thanked the Child Advocate who took me to my appointments. My parents couldnt' see me yet and my foster parents couldn't take me the 1 1/2 hour to each appointment. So this little white haired old lady and her husband woudl pick me up and wait with me in the green, Air Force hospital hallways, and take me home again. She was so sweet and kind. She didn't have to be. She could have just been a taxi, but she smiled and told me about her grandkids. She was always working on a knitted coverlet. It was made out of thin, fine white thread that was in loops and whorls. She taught me what to do and let me work on a square while I waited. I know I probably messed it up and she may have unstiched the part I worked on, but I've never forgotten how kind she was to me. She made all the difference and I dont' think I ever thanked her. I wish I had. She made all the difference in a hard time.
I've never really told anyone about this, but since I can't get it off my mind....here goes. One night, my father sat us down and told us that he and my mother were getting divorced. I still remember sitting on his bed feeling a sense of shock. The trip back to the foster home was a blur. In fact the next real memory I have is that of my foster mother coming upstairs that night to tell me they didn't want me anymore. I was too hard to deal with and I was going to go to a group home the next day. The misery I felt at that moment is hard to top. I felt as though I was abandoned by everyone who ever said they cared about me. I was sobbing so uncontrolably that I think I scared my foster mom. When I finally told her what had happened, she said they would let me stay a little longer. i've always wondered what woudl have happened if my father hadn't told me that night. Would they have recanted their decision? What would have happened to me?
As I have grown up, I can look back and see my life from a different perspective. I still remember the feelings of inadaquacy, slef-rightous anger, fear, regection and failure that filled my childhood, but now i also see that I wasn't the hurt little girl I felt like. i was a troublesome girl who was not easy to deal with. I remember feeling like nobody understood me and that I was unfairly picked on. I also see that I probably drove them crazy with everything I did. I don't remember if I talked back or broke rules. I do remember that it always seemed like I was in trouble and never understood why. I was always out of sync with normal and could never get back on track.
So what's the point of all this? I guess I had to get it out of my head so I can sleep, but in the bigger picture, I suppose I just have to admit it. That way maybe I will learn from it. Maybe I will react with compasion when dealing with my kids, maybe I'll understand my kids when they are pre-teens and teenagers. Maybe not, but I can hope I won't screw them up too much.
I guess I'll know in 30 years when they write the tell-all book.