I was born on a Saturday in Newport News, Virginia on December 6th, 1986. At that time, my family included my mom, Marilyn, my dad, Steven, and my brother, Joey. We stayed in Virginia (my father was based at Fort Eustis) until I was 3 years old, and then we moved to Bethlehem, Pennsylvania which is a city in the Lehigh Valley. We rented a small house and things went okay for a while.
When I was 5 years old, my mother took Joey and I and moved away for good (she had left a few times before this, taking us to live in New Jersey). My mom and dad had never really gotten along, and there was constant arguing when they were together. We moved first to a shelter for abused women and their children, and then to a low-income housing project, called Marvine Village. Yes, that’s correct… we moved to “the projects”. My brother at that time was in and out of hospitals with emotional issues, and I was having behavioral issues because of all the problems. My mother has bipolar disorder and at that time wasn’t yet diagnosed and had no medication. Eventually, the county took my brother and put him into a foster home, the same happened to me a little while later.
I remember crying and screaming when they took me away from my mother. I was 6 years old. I didn’t want to go with the caseworker, I didn’t want to live with strange people. I wanted to be with my mom. Every time I think of this memory, my heart breaks all over again. The county said I would be able to come home in six months. They kept me for ten years.
For those ten years I was away from family, I was placed in over 20 different foster homes, and quite a few group homes, hospitals, shelters and residential facilities. Most of my life was spent with an organization called KidsPeace, which placed me in tons of different programs. I lived all over eastern Pennsylvania, and with all types of people. Some of the people were caring and warm, some were abusive or cruel, some used me to do farm work, some were extremely strict, others set no rules at all. In some homes I had two parents and brothers and sisters, and in some I lived with just a single parent. Every home was different, and you can imagine the trouble I had adjusting to normal life when I was released from “the system” and out into “the real world”.
Throughout the whole ordeal, my mother visited me on weekends, every other week… for ten years. My father called a lot and visited less often, usually once a month, but sometimes I didn’t see him for a year at a time. My mother and I talked nearly every day on the phone, we wrote each other, and had a pretty good relationship. “Adoption” was a forbidden word, and we were both terrified of it, until I hit age 12 and could legally make my own choice.
I went to court hearings every 6 months, starting from the age of 6. I had Master Blair as my Judge for most of my life, he was reasonable… he had a patch over one eye. I can recall being frightened. When I was 13, the system changed, and I was assigned to Master Joseph, a female judge and a royal bitch. Everyone hated her, including my attorneys; she made horrible rulings. Eventually I was released, but not by her doing – it was a miracle. Master Joseph was sick on my court date and I had a fill-in Judge who let me out of foster care… just like that. After ten years, I was free. I could go home! Unfortunately, I was already 16 by that time, so things just never would be the same.
When I got home, things were weird. I was constantly saying “please” and “thank you”. Constantly asking if I could “be excused” or “may I use the bathroom?”. I was institutionalized, and I’d often raise my hand before I spoke. I felt guilty accepting presents, or asking for clothes or food. I felt like my family wasn’t really my own, it felt like it was just another foster home. Just another “mother” and “brother”. I eventually got comfortable though, and I became accustomed to the idea of having my own family, not someone else’s. We still don’t get along great… we all have “our own ways”, as my mother says, but things are better now. I love my mom, and I love my brother. I love my dad, too, even though I didn’t talk of him much. He was there throughout my life, too, but I never got very close to him. I lived with him a little in the summer of 2004 but things didn’t work out and I went back to live with my mom. My family isn’t perfect, but they are all I have.
So, now I’m 24. I moved out of my mom’s house when I was 18 and got my own apartment with Justin. Since then, we have lived in Philadelphia, Harrisburg and Buffalo. We move a lot. Sometimes it reminds me of my childhood in all those homes.
I am currently a senior in college, majoring in History with a second major in Social Studies Education (grades 7-12). I have a double minor in European History and American History. I plan to do the whole career/marriage thing eventually, but right now I want to just live. I want to find happiness and have some normalcy, whatever that is. I want to travel, start a business, read books in the park, and write. I want to stay up late and wake up late. I don’t want to worry anymore; I just want to be around the people that make me happy, every single day. I want to know that my twenties were not wasted. I don’t want to become my parents, but I don’t want to be the poster-child for the American Dream, either. If it seems irrational or naive to expect all of this, well I don’t give a fuck. I sure as hell deserve it.
