I was just thinking about a comment from CJ. She mentioned that she "missed fostering." And it got me thinking.
We weren't really fostering.
I mean yes, we have a license, the kid came via the foster system, caseworkers, therapists, licensing teams, and heaven knows who else were in and out of our home constantly. But yet, our situation wasn't a real foster situation.
When we met this kid, she was 16, emotionally underdeveloped, deeply scarred, scared of everything, but sharp as a tack (or so it seemed.) She had a 4.0 GPA, and wanted to go to law school. She and I had so much in common as far as interests go, that it was FUN to work with her. Her situation was so unfair that we had to do something about it. We actually looked into adoption first, even though she'd be an adult in only two more years, because she so obviously needed a family. But we found out quickly that fostering was faster, free to us, and offered her far more support than the adoption system would. Literally, she would LOSE many benefits from adoption. She gets this special tuition incentive plan, certain things covered in her life through Youth in Transition funds, etc. etc. Foster wasn't the intent, it was simply the tool to acheive the means, which was to get her in a safe home.
I didn't deal with any bio parents or visitation. I didn't run her to the DHS office across town on a regular basis. We didn't have any of that, because she's a permanent court ward. There was no fear she'd disappear, because there was really noplace to disappear to, and no parent(s) out there to suddenly get his/her/their crap together and get her "back." She was intended to just become family, settle in, and stay forever. Somedays she wanted that, some days she didn't, and some days she had no idea what she wanted. I can understand some of it. I explained to her before that when you marry into a family? It takes months if not years before you really feel at home there. While she felt at home in our house and with just us, she felt awkward around the whole clan. She felt as if she didn't belong. And that is the theme of her life. She feels as if she doesn't belong anywhere. She was not willing to give it time. One of her biggest and most frequent complaints was that she felt nobody accepted her. Now in fairness, I'm not sure what she expected from anyoen to feel "accepted." Because our families were incredibly gracious to her. Nobody missed giving her a Christmas gift or a hug or an opportunity to be part of whatever was going on.
I wonder about true fostering. About the process of opening your home to a TEMPORARY situation, and caring for an innocent one until he or she can go back home again or forward to a "forever family" that will adopt. Of course the county has already asked us about it now that it's public knowledge we have an empty house. They need help. But I'm not sure about this right now. I'm exhausted, and my life is in shambles. This was way more work than I ever expected. I think we just need a break from everything whether we go back and do anything more with it or not.
Showing posts with label fostering. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fostering. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Accountability
It seems to be such a black and white situation. People either have it or they don't. A few of these kids I've come across have a fairly firm grasp of it. Some have none. The one who just flew this coop had none.
Everything was always someone else's fault. And when she did take responsibility for something in her heart, and speak about it, it was never anything of value to take responsibility for. For instance, she felt horribly guilty for seeking help when she'd been sexually abused. She took full responsibility for "causing" the state workers to intervene, and she took full responsibility for "causing" a court hearing and all sorts of other activities. She can hardly talk about it, the guilt is so thick.
But then we have even the simplest things that she can't ever seem to stand up and own. Her chores were the dishes and running the vacuum. Not a bad gig for a girl her age, eh? But she'd avoid it like the plague. That part I understand. Often I avoid chores like the plague. We all probably have those times. But then a time would come when someone was coming over, or even might come over, and if she was nowhere to be found, or moving slow, I'd have no choice but to step in and take care of it. This wasn't confrontational. I just got it done and expected she'd step in next time and do her thing. If you knew how much turmoil this kid caused, you'd understand we really avoid the nitpicky stuff becoming any sort of issue. I don't want to hear her whiny crap about dishes when I have to deal with her deciding that since she's possibly only 6 months or so from bagging a new boyfriend, she should probably get on birth control so she's ready. There were certainly always bigger fish to fry. Anyhow, on those occasions that I'd step in and do the dishes? So they were done? She'd feel some guilt that it was obvious she had not taken care of her responsibilities and she had no way to blame the situation on anyone else. See, if I hollered at her about the dishes? She'd be too busy seething with anger that someone dared yell at her. So she wouldn't care about the fact that she hadn't done what she was supposed to. The only thing of issue would be that someone got angry at her for what she felt was no justifiable reason.
She failed a few classes her first semester of college. The reason? She decided the online format of these classes was too much work, and was unfair. Nevermind that she quit doing the work three weeks into the eight week class. It wasn't her fault.
She got a job when she was 16, and needed a bank account. I told her why she should use a credit union, and how it would benefit her in the long run. I got papers for her, and in the meantime, she ran and opened a checking account at a bank. How she managed to do this at 16, I don't know, because a 16 year old cannot be part and parcel to a contract of any sort. Every check or swipe of a debit is a contract. The agreement between the bank and the account holder of a checking account is a contract. But I digress. I asked her several times how she was going to maintain her checkbook and balance her account, because she had no access to a computer, could not receive mail from a bank where she lived at the time, and was spinning out of control with this newfangled debit card. She insisted she'd be fine. But when she overdrafted countless times, and the bank finally closed her account, it wasn't her fault. They should have TOLD her the rules, not just showed them to her on a piece of paper she had to sign.
When she lived here with us and decided she might need a credit card, I told her she should not apply for anything while she has the checking account problem on her credit, because it will cause another hit to her credit, and a denial, neither of which help her situation. Sure enough, only a matter of months go by before Chase sends a letter saying thanks for her interest in their platinum mastercard, but no thanks overall. I ask her why she deliberately did exactly what she was told not to do, and her response? She didn't seek out the offer - it came right to her e-mail box. So it isn't her fault. All she did was fill it out. This particular one I couldn't even respond to. I was too busy thinking, is she this stupid? Really? I hollered at her good for not following directions, a skill that most six year olds can master but she struggled with daily at 18.
She ran into the stop sign at the end of our street. We reminded her you have to drive according to the conditions outside. She insisted that no matter what the weather, you should be able to drive 25 in residential. It wasn't her fault. It happened because there was too much ice, not because she drove too fast on it and couldn't stop.
She hit a parked car in an parking garage. It wasn't her fault. They parked too close to her car, so she "had" to hit them in order to get out and leave.
Our microwave broke recently. She's being told constantly to watch how much money she's blowing daily, and save some. (Which she simply cannot do.) When several days went by, and she was running out and spending money on at least two meals a day from drive thru windows, we reminded her that it costs a lot of money to do that. She replied that it wasn't her fault she had to buy food at fast food places because our microwave broke, so she couldn't "cook." I suggested a turkey and cheese sandwich, or maybe eating dinner with us as I'd asked her to do a few times and saw no interest, and she just left the room.
Nothing can ever be her fault.
Without a doubt, even her choice to run away will somehow in her mind be our fault, or the "system's" fault. Maybe both. But definitely not hers.
Everything was always someone else's fault. And when she did take responsibility for something in her heart, and speak about it, it was never anything of value to take responsibility for. For instance, she felt horribly guilty for seeking help when she'd been sexually abused. She took full responsibility for "causing" the state workers to intervene, and she took full responsibility for "causing" a court hearing and all sorts of other activities. She can hardly talk about it, the guilt is so thick.
But then we have even the simplest things that she can't ever seem to stand up and own. Her chores were the dishes and running the vacuum. Not a bad gig for a girl her age, eh? But she'd avoid it like the plague. That part I understand. Often I avoid chores like the plague. We all probably have those times. But then a time would come when someone was coming over, or even might come over, and if she was nowhere to be found, or moving slow, I'd have no choice but to step in and take care of it. This wasn't confrontational. I just got it done and expected she'd step in next time and do her thing. If you knew how much turmoil this kid caused, you'd understand we really avoid the nitpicky stuff becoming any sort of issue. I don't want to hear her whiny crap about dishes when I have to deal with her deciding that since she's possibly only 6 months or so from bagging a new boyfriend, she should probably get on birth control so she's ready. There were certainly always bigger fish to fry. Anyhow, on those occasions that I'd step in and do the dishes? So they were done? She'd feel some guilt that it was obvious she had not taken care of her responsibilities and she had no way to blame the situation on anyone else. See, if I hollered at her about the dishes? She'd be too busy seething with anger that someone dared yell at her. So she wouldn't care about the fact that she hadn't done what she was supposed to. The only thing of issue would be that someone got angry at her for what she felt was no justifiable reason.
She failed a few classes her first semester of college. The reason? She decided the online format of these classes was too much work, and was unfair. Nevermind that she quit doing the work three weeks into the eight week class. It wasn't her fault.
She got a job when she was 16, and needed a bank account. I told her why she should use a credit union, and how it would benefit her in the long run. I got papers for her, and in the meantime, she ran and opened a checking account at a bank. How she managed to do this at 16, I don't know, because a 16 year old cannot be part and parcel to a contract of any sort. Every check or swipe of a debit is a contract. The agreement between the bank and the account holder of a checking account is a contract. But I digress. I asked her several times how she was going to maintain her checkbook and balance her account, because she had no access to a computer, could not receive mail from a bank where she lived at the time, and was spinning out of control with this newfangled debit card. She insisted she'd be fine. But when she overdrafted countless times, and the bank finally closed her account, it wasn't her fault. They should have TOLD her the rules, not just showed them to her on a piece of paper she had to sign.
When she lived here with us and decided she might need a credit card, I told her she should not apply for anything while she has the checking account problem on her credit, because it will cause another hit to her credit, and a denial, neither of which help her situation. Sure enough, only a matter of months go by before Chase sends a letter saying thanks for her interest in their platinum mastercard, but no thanks overall. I ask her why she deliberately did exactly what she was told not to do, and her response? She didn't seek out the offer - it came right to her e-mail box. So it isn't her fault. All she did was fill it out. This particular one I couldn't even respond to. I was too busy thinking, is she this stupid? Really? I hollered at her good for not following directions, a skill that most six year olds can master but she struggled with daily at 18.
She ran into the stop sign at the end of our street. We reminded her you have to drive according to the conditions outside. She insisted that no matter what the weather, you should be able to drive 25 in residential. It wasn't her fault. It happened because there was too much ice, not because she drove too fast on it and couldn't stop.
She hit a parked car in an parking garage. It wasn't her fault. They parked too close to her car, so she "had" to hit them in order to get out and leave.
Our microwave broke recently. She's being told constantly to watch how much money she's blowing daily, and save some. (Which she simply cannot do.) When several days went by, and she was running out and spending money on at least two meals a day from drive thru windows, we reminded her that it costs a lot of money to do that. She replied that it wasn't her fault she had to buy food at fast food places because our microwave broke, so she couldn't "cook." I suggested a turkey and cheese sandwich, or maybe eating dinner with us as I'd asked her to do a few times and saw no interest, and she just left the room.
Nothing can ever be her fault.
Without a doubt, even her choice to run away will somehow in her mind be our fault, or the "system's" fault. Maybe both. But definitely not hers.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Brownies & Coffee for Breakfast
The struggles that have been going on in my life are starting to come to a close. Most, if not all of them, I could not discuss openly on the Internet.
But here's a synopsis.
My mother lost her job. It was a very unfair situation. She had a mock grievance process available to her, and she used it. She is not represented by a union, unfortunately, and the grievance process they have does not typically reinstate people who are discharged wrongly. In her case, it was so blatant, that she was reinstated with full back pay, and an apology. But, going through the process nearly killed her, and thus broke my heart in the process. If anyone reading this thinks unions have "had their time" or actually are a detriment to society, I have two things to offer to you. First, you are almost guaranteed to have never been part of a union that you needed. Second, you are almost guaranteed not to have a firm understanding of exactly what the union was formed to do, and the purpose it has served for people who now work in the NON UNION PRIVATE SECTOR. Like me. (Well, when I'm actually employed, that is.) Big business has put many stigmas out there that people believe, and those people don't realize how they are hurt by the whole deal. I beg you all to question this, and seek answers for yourself. I have formally studied labor relations in a non-partisan program - simply because it fascinated me. I was a believer that unions were becoming "old news" before I went through this program and was enlightened. That, with a better understanding of how an "economy" works, changed my personal view, and then made me angry that the media and businesses have the power they do to change the stream of information to the public. This is America, and it's supposed to be home of the free and the brave. Not home of the censored and belittled.
Anyway, she got her job back.
My sister came to me with a legally charged issue that she needed help with, and I was able to give her some help. That issue isn't fully resolved yet but I believe it is very close. She's not in any trouble. It's really one of the stupidest things I've ever heard of. So that is close to resolution.
I've been in the midst of struggle with our foster child. This has been the biggest strain on me for some time now, and the biggest cause for my being pulled away and not being able to write what I needed to write on here. She ran away on Thursday, and is staying in an undisclosed place with a "friend." One of the details in this situation has rendered her beyond our trust, and she will not be allowed back. For any of you who know anything about this particular young person and what we've gone through on her behalf, you know that's a big deal. I have kept a basic paper journal over the course of time. That information will likely get published at some point.
The therapist who is hired to do in-home therapy with the (former!) foster child came over this morning - he was far more worried about us given the situation than he was worried about her.
So here I am in my home that I love beyond measure, with only my husband and our pets. Relieved from the hardship and struggle that has been so prevalent in our home. Relieved from the worry about my parents' financial status. Peaceful. Happy. And not sure if we want to do foster anymore, or at least for a while. We need a break. And yes, breakfast is brownies and coffee. Life is good right now.
One request - please visit www.momentswithmoriah.blogspot.com (sorry I can't remember how to link) and leave love for this family if you have time. Now, I'm off to visit all my favorite blogs and see if Amy has started painting. Ciao everyone.
But here's a synopsis.
My mother lost her job. It was a very unfair situation. She had a mock grievance process available to her, and she used it. She is not represented by a union, unfortunately, and the grievance process they have does not typically reinstate people who are discharged wrongly. In her case, it was so blatant, that she was reinstated with full back pay, and an apology. But, going through the process nearly killed her, and thus broke my heart in the process. If anyone reading this thinks unions have "had their time" or actually are a detriment to society, I have two things to offer to you. First, you are almost guaranteed to have never been part of a union that you needed. Second, you are almost guaranteed not to have a firm understanding of exactly what the union was formed to do, and the purpose it has served for people who now work in the NON UNION PRIVATE SECTOR. Like me. (Well, when I'm actually employed, that is.) Big business has put many stigmas out there that people believe, and those people don't realize how they are hurt by the whole deal. I beg you all to question this, and seek answers for yourself. I have formally studied labor relations in a non-partisan program - simply because it fascinated me. I was a believer that unions were becoming "old news" before I went through this program and was enlightened. That, with a better understanding of how an "economy" works, changed my personal view, and then made me angry that the media and businesses have the power they do to change the stream of information to the public. This is America, and it's supposed to be home of the free and the brave. Not home of the censored and belittled.
Anyway, she got her job back.
My sister came to me with a legally charged issue that she needed help with, and I was able to give her some help. That issue isn't fully resolved yet but I believe it is very close. She's not in any trouble. It's really one of the stupidest things I've ever heard of. So that is close to resolution.
I've been in the midst of struggle with our foster child. This has been the biggest strain on me for some time now, and the biggest cause for my being pulled away and not being able to write what I needed to write on here. She ran away on Thursday, and is staying in an undisclosed place with a "friend." One of the details in this situation has rendered her beyond our trust, and she will not be allowed back. For any of you who know anything about this particular young person and what we've gone through on her behalf, you know that's a big deal. I have kept a basic paper journal over the course of time. That information will likely get published at some point.
The therapist who is hired to do in-home therapy with the (former!) foster child came over this morning - he was far more worried about us given the situation than he was worried about her.
So here I am in my home that I love beyond measure, with only my husband and our pets. Relieved from the hardship and struggle that has been so prevalent in our home. Relieved from the worry about my parents' financial status. Peaceful. Happy. And not sure if we want to do foster anymore, or at least for a while. We need a break. And yes, breakfast is brownies and coffee. Life is good right now.
One request - please visit www.momentswithmoriah.blogspot.com (sorry I can't remember how to link) and leave love for this family if you have time. Now, I'm off to visit all my favorite blogs and see if Amy has started painting. Ciao everyone.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Spatial Relations
The foster "child" in our care cannot find her way out of a paper bag. She's gotten lost, severely, twice that I know about and based on how long it's taken her to get from here to there on occassion with a special brand of panic on her face when she gets there, I know she got twisted around then too. (The brand of panic on her face when she's been doing something wrong is very different. She's very transparent. The poor child cannot figure out how I always know if she's been up to no good. I have finally figured out how my mother always knew when I was. Then I promptly draw the conclusion that I'm getting old, and I try to think about something else.)
She had an appointment today. She's proud to be driving her OWN car, and proud to be propelling her person to these obligations on her own once in awhile. The thing is, she has to be on time. Which means, I have to know she knows exactly how to go. There is no time to drive 25 minutes in the wrong direction before either figuring it out or calling me in hysterics. So, as you would imagine, I spent a few moments inquiring as to her comfort level about her voyage ahead.
She said she was glad I asked, because when she gets to this road? What way should she turn? Right? And then that road is next? And which way then?
This is when I wish the coffee pot would speed up because I am low on patience in the morning, bless her heart, before I have sufficient caffeine intake.
I begin with the current position of her car, and ask her which way her car is pointing now. It's the 439th time she's started this drill with our own street, but she gets flustered and can't figure it out. Usually, I patiently walk her through it. Step by step, turn by turn, and ask her to visualize this in her head however she wants. I expected the blank and confused look through the first several of these conversations. But I've grown concerned at the fact that things aren't falling into place for her. It's been long enough for her to hear regularly that the corner store is found by travelling south on our street, which is that direction, then turning west, which is that direction, then finding the store on the right. After weeks, when you ask her how to get to that corner store, you'd think she'd be able to tell you. But she can't . She will have an instance of slightly confused panic, lift her hands as if she were about to talk with them, and then start to turn her body as though she's trying to face her nose in the direction she wants to go and have that serve as a tool to describe it. Good Lord in heaven.
So today, fearing that she's just not getting it with regard to direction, I pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. The coffee wasn't even done yet. I started from the beginning, as I always do for her. "When you look at a map, any map, North is always at the top of the paper unless it tells you specifically otherwise, which is so rare I've never seen it." I hold up the pad with a blank sheet I've not touched with the pen yet.
I lay the pad down, and draw one line across the paper. This is XYZ Road. I turn the paper to draw the next portion of the map, and she cries out, "That does NOT make sense!" Dear girl, how does a single line on a piece of paper that is not even labeled yet manage to have a chance to not make sense?
I stop the map to allow her a chance to speak and articulate her thoughts. Because during these moments where the rest of us would politely say, "hey wait, I don't get it," and be very calm, she is OVERCOME with emotion. She essentially screams, "THAT road runs east and west! YOU have it running north and south!"
Again, bless her heart. I was drawing the map in the "landscape" orientation of the paper rather than the "portrait" orientation. I figured out what she meant, and told her it was all okay. The world wasn't ending. I was just using the paper longways, and she'd see in a minute how it fit together.
I drew out the rest of the map while she watched intently, and then I drew a little compass on there that confirmed the basic directions, north, south, etc.
She was very calm at this point in time, and she confirmed the map made sense to her. Then she added, "It makes sense on the paper, but I can't see it in my head." Exactly. I couldn't have said it better myself. I told her I'd get her one of those books to develop spatial relations with exercises like looking at a closed up box, and picking the option that shows that same box all unfolded, or showing a shape and picking the option that shows it spun around in another direction.
She replied that she didn't really need that, and "when she grew up, she would just move someplace where you don't need to know the directions to drive somewhere. " Classic.
She had an appointment today. She's proud to be driving her OWN car, and proud to be propelling her person to these obligations on her own once in awhile. The thing is, she has to be on time. Which means, I have to know she knows exactly how to go. There is no time to drive 25 minutes in the wrong direction before either figuring it out or calling me in hysterics. So, as you would imagine, I spent a few moments inquiring as to her comfort level about her voyage ahead.
She said she was glad I asked, because when she gets to this road? What way should she turn? Right? And then that road is next? And which way then?
This is when I wish the coffee pot would speed up because I am low on patience in the morning, bless her heart, before I have sufficient caffeine intake.
I begin with the current position of her car, and ask her which way her car is pointing now. It's the 439th time she's started this drill with our own street, but she gets flustered and can't figure it out. Usually, I patiently walk her through it. Step by step, turn by turn, and ask her to visualize this in her head however she wants. I expected the blank and confused look through the first several of these conversations. But I've grown concerned at the fact that things aren't falling into place for her. It's been long enough for her to hear regularly that the corner store is found by travelling south on our street, which is that direction, then turning west, which is that direction, then finding the store on the right. After weeks, when you ask her how to get to that corner store, you'd think she'd be able to tell you. But she can't . She will have an instance of slightly confused panic, lift her hands as if she were about to talk with them, and then start to turn her body as though she's trying to face her nose in the direction she wants to go and have that serve as a tool to describe it. Good Lord in heaven.
So today, fearing that she's just not getting it with regard to direction, I pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. The coffee wasn't even done yet. I started from the beginning, as I always do for her. "When you look at a map, any map, North is always at the top of the paper unless it tells you specifically otherwise, which is so rare I've never seen it." I hold up the pad with a blank sheet I've not touched with the pen yet.
I lay the pad down, and draw one line across the paper. This is XYZ Road. I turn the paper to draw the next portion of the map, and she cries out, "That does NOT make sense!" Dear girl, how does a single line on a piece of paper that is not even labeled yet manage to have a chance to not make sense?
I stop the map to allow her a chance to speak and articulate her thoughts. Because during these moments where the rest of us would politely say, "hey wait, I don't get it," and be very calm, she is OVERCOME with emotion. She essentially screams, "THAT road runs east and west! YOU have it running north and south!"
Again, bless her heart. I was drawing the map in the "landscape" orientation of the paper rather than the "portrait" orientation. I figured out what she meant, and told her it was all okay. The world wasn't ending. I was just using the paper longways, and she'd see in a minute how it fit together.
I drew out the rest of the map while she watched intently, and then I drew a little compass on there that confirmed the basic directions, north, south, etc.
She was very calm at this point in time, and she confirmed the map made sense to her. Then she added, "It makes sense on the paper, but I can't see it in my head." Exactly. I couldn't have said it better myself. I told her I'd get her one of those books to develop spatial relations with exercises like looking at a closed up box, and picking the option that shows that same box all unfolded, or showing a shape and picking the option that shows it spun around in another direction.
She replied that she didn't really need that, and "when she grew up, she would just move someplace where you don't need to know the directions to drive somewhere. " Classic.
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