Things I Dealt With While Being In Foster Care

Things I Dealt With While Being In Foster Care

The beginning of an adolescent's stress and depression

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I've been a part of the system since I was 14. I remember the day like it was yesterday I was told that I could not get on the bus to go home, that I had to wait for the school's principal. An hour went past, and I was finally allowed to go home, but it was only a stop and go trip. I did not know that this would be the last time I would see my family for a while.

I have no privilege over where I could stay nor with whom I could stay with. As the social worker took me to my new foster home she told me 'You'll only be here for a week.' I believed her. Those words gave me hope that my life was not over. I began to feel trapped, I was already an hour away from my family. I found that the social worker was lying to me weeks later, once I realized that school was almost out and I was still in the same house.

One night I wanted to stay the night with my god-sister. I was told there was a background check that needed to be done, I was ready for the background check to be done so I could leave my current home. But at the time I did not know that it would take three to six months to have this done. That was the answer each time I wanted to stay somewhere, background check. When it came to staying over at a friend's house, I just stop asking because I already knew the answer.

They tell you that they want you to have a normal life. The day I was held up at school my life has not been the same since. Try being the kid almost living a double life, having all of your friends question your routine and actions because they notice that you haven't been yourself or you haven't been doing your normal routine. I wasn't a normal kid, I watched my friends and everyone who I once knew have all of the fun because I was trapped. All of these thoughts that went through my mind about why I had to be the one with the crazy life or the life that was unknown to everyone around you.

The thing that causes depression. Isolation. They move you because maybe your lifestyle at home was not the best fit for you, but you should not be moved hours away from the only people you know. That separation causes questions and emotions and in a teenage mind, you start to feel like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders.



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Stop Stopping At Stop Signs, It's Honestly Not Helping Anyone

I swear Vin Diesel didn't pay me to write this, because if he did, I wouldn't be driving a 1998 Volvo.

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Okay, so I get it, you should be safe on the road, you should follow all the rules, you should avoid breaking traffic laws, blah blah blah... I get it.

But at the same time, I gotta get chicken nuggets in the shape of dinosaurs at Target before they close in seven minutes, and the soccer mom in the minivan ahead of me ain't helping. I understand that a stop sign means to come to a full stop in the eyes of the law, but I also understand that it is 10:53 at night in the middle of nowhere. A stop sign, especially this late, just means slow down.

Okay, I don't want to sound like Vin Diesel, but like, damn Debby, can you not stop for a full five seconds? And I'm not talking a quick 1-2-3-4-5, I'm talking about five Mississippis. Maybe me and the middle-aged soccer mom are at two ends of the spectrum here, she's too cautious and I'm too "Fast and Furious," but boy, I sure was furious, because Debby, it's time to stop your excessive stopping.

Another one of my favorites was a real turn of events. I was stuck behind a Camaro and a Mustang at a red light, and the two of them were revving their engines, and I thought to myself, "Oh God, we're gonna have a NASCAR race going on right on Nicolls Road." And for a solid three minutes before the light turned, these two meatheads were revving their engines.

Then the light turned green and both cars slowly started accelerating and took a solid couple minutes before they got to 60 miles an hour. If you are driving in a sports car where you can see 200 on the speedometer, it should not take you three minutes to get to 60. If an 18-year-old in a piece of shit 1998 Volvo can pass a sports car, you're going too slow.

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