Written on July 23, 2011
As strong as you might perceive me to be I am only human.
I definitely have my days and today is one of them. As I’m sitting here trying to draft a platform paper on alternative forms of therapy for foster youth I begin to cry. It’s obviously something I feel extremely passionate about which is why I’m sitting here in this office and not one closer to home.
For hours I have been sitting here reading stories, watching PSA’s, and even reminiscing my own childhood. There’s a few scabs.. One pertaining to never having parents and feeling orphaned. Another to my relationship with men. So I can be honest and tell you that sometimes when my heart prays, I ask why someone didn’t intervene sooner. With every eviction my mother faced why someone wasn’t able to see the children that crept along with her? When the 3 kids stole food from the convenience stores to eat-why didn’t they stop us to intervene? Why the churches who knew we were homeless never did more than offer a blanket, prayer or temporary shelter.
Why the first five years of my life weren’t spent teaching what’s most vital in those developing years. Instead of lessons of security, language development and social interaction I was taught neglect, abuse, fear and trauma. Why I couldn’t have been adopted at a young age and really experienced a childhood? Or even why when there was a family willing to love me I was first to reject them? Questions I don’t bother to ponder because I will never truly know. I’m guilty of admiring my friends and the relationships with their parents.
Secretly wishing that I could have it too. I honestly long for the connection that bonds a child and parent. It’s hard to swallow but I know that I will never get to experience it as a child, only as a parent one day. As amazing as the support I have is.. It just isn’t that same connection. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a powerful connection and I am so grateful. I just am led to believe that I didn’t experience that connection so that I could better relate to those out there that won’t ever have that chance to either… I just thank God that I’m not bitter and instead I feel numb.
Each day I struggle and I know I’m not alone. It hurts that I will never be able to crawl into my father’s lap and hug him, tell him how my day went and have him speak words of love to me. Instead I swallow back memories of a man, whose face I don’t remember, that was more eager to abuse me. A man who would rather slap my infant face and throw me around than to embrace me. Now if you can really read me then you know it’s a challenge for me to hug men. I can count the number of times on my hands when I was able to hug a male figure in my life growing up.
I was so accustomed to rejection, abuse or unwanted attention that I feared being physically touched by a man. In the last few years I’ve slowly warmed up to the idea but only through the few wonderful men in my life who have helped heal me from a distance. Yes, you can help from a distance and never realize the effect. For every man who has hurt me, abused me, used me or exploited me I thank God for the men that are now in my life. Each and every of my closest male friends and “brothers”, I appreciate. They have shown me through their actions that real men exist and have assisted in breaking down my bias and fears.
To this day I’m still healing… Which is why I am writing a paper on Alternative therapy. We need to recognize that healing doesn’t just happen within 4 walls and a one-on-one session with a licensed professional. (Not that I’m in any way putting that down.) It’s simply just that we can’t reach everyone that way. If we truly want to prevent cycles of abuse, poverty, addiction, and illness then we need to reach out more. I had my one-on-one time and it truly helped.
As many counselors as I’ve gone through I was able to even remain in contact with the one who impacted me most, in one of my most desperate times of need. In my current state though I know I am only healing through my faith, peer support, mentoring, identity and cultural connections, art expression, physical exercise and my own willingness. With that said, more foster youth and at-risk youth need to be reached in order to prevent unhealthy cycles. We need to teach them and assist them in how to find what suits their healing process.
We need to love them, listen and remain constant. We have to help build or rebuild self-esteem and confidence. We need to empower them and remind them that their broken smiles, scars and tender scabs are what makes them beautiful.