The Unknown Journey

THE UNKNOWN JOURNEY

Part 1

When I was one year old I was taken away from my biological mom for various reason, some of which I know and some of it I would like to find out. I remember going from home to home like it was part of a routine, thinking well I will just have to get use to this, it will always be this way knowing I will be going to another foster family again, it won’t be too long. It’s not worth showing love to someone who is just going to get rid of me in 2-2 ½ months. Why should I show any affection, when they really show me none? They are just here to give me food, shelter, and hand me down clothes until someone else steps up to be my foster family for another 2-2 ½ months. So what’s the point of even showing that I’m thankful to them for this? I went through 11 different foster homes from the age 1-7. Yes I had emotions, but that I kept to myself. If something bothered me I learned to suppress it, I never talked about how I felt or how I thought it was affecting my life. I never addressed anything, it’s not like they cared or were even concerned. For all I knew I would just be moving on to someone different, with the same views of me as everyone else who dumped me. So I asked myself again, why should I even care or talk about this sensitive stuff that is hurting me to someone who doesn’t love me, who will only be in my life for a short while?

As a kid I dealt with a lot, I remember everything that I went through to as far back as I could remember. The Rated R movies at a very young age, the bad television shows and movies we watched portraying ungodly things, the people that my foster family hung out with who were bad influences to children. Believe it or not kids that are young remember a lot, you may think there are just kids, it’s not like they are going to remember this or have nightmares at night about the violence and scary things in this rated R movie we are watching. It was never about how it was going to affect this child or how will it change their behavior? Will it make them a better person, or a violent person? Will they know how to tell if it’s just made up or if it’s real? As I look back I think these people never thought about me, I was just another body in the house. If they really thought about it, would I have been exposed to all these ungodly horrible things? It was sending a bad message to my brain saying, this is how life is supposed to be, if they do this on TV and in this movie it has to be how it is in reality, because the stuff in these movies really happened. Did anyone out of those families tell me the stuff in this movie isn’t real, it never existed, and this is wrong behavior and that this stuff will get you in trouble in life if you do what these people do in the movies? No, not one of my foster families told me this. So that raises the question am I right, that they didn’t care about me, and that I really meant nothing? Why should a young child ever have to go through this? Why should anyone?

Then there was the foster family that wanted to foster me and my younger brother. We went to the same house. They seemed like they loved me to a certain degree. They introduced me to boating and basketball. They bought me new clothes, basketball shoes, they signed me up and paid my way to learn how to play basketball through the YMCA, they even signed me up for a bowling league as a kid and I earned six trophies. I had my own bed, I didn’t share a room. I thought maybe I had a family who cared about me. We carved pumpkins for Halloween and dressed up in costumes and went to a Halloween costume contest party. We celebrated my younger brother’s birthday as a family. Christmas was the best part! I actually got presents that were fun and exciting, compared to a Christmas were I just got school supplies, such as a calculator and notebooks. I had received a human full sized stuffed animal pillow that was a golden retriever, that I snuggled with while watching movies and spending time with my biological brother and foster parents and their son that they had. I also received this doll that had multicolored hair and you got to draw her face one with a set of markers that came with her. That doll was the best Christmas gift that I had been given out of all my Christmases.

Then one day my bags were packed and suitcases by the door. I had found out that I was moving to a different foster family, I was really just getting used this family, and how they treated me like a human being compared to everyone else. They sent me away but adopted my younger brother. All my siblings had now been adopted before me. I had two other brothers who were older than me and my younger brother. When I left the family that adopted my younger brother, they didn’t send me away with any of the nice clothes that they had bought me while I was in their home. They didn’t send me with the trophies that I won in my bowling league; they didn’t send my medals that I earned as a kid learning how to play basketball. They sent none of that with me. Not even my favorite Scooby-doo bowling ball that I used to win bowling trophies with. They sent along clothes that had patches sewn to them from where I wore holes in the jeans and other clothing. How could I ever show love to anyone who started loving me? I thought they were so nice, they got me new clothes and treated me right. But then their actions changed when they sent me away. They didn’t let me keep anything that was associated with them in anyway. They had kept the previous clothes that I came with, and sent me away with those awful clothes. So did they really truly love me? They knew they were going to get rid of me and that it wouldn’t last forever, because they managed to keep those wretched clothes I came with, and send me away with those same clothes and baggage that I brought with me, even down to the same suitcase I had come to them with. So did they know all this time that it wasn’t going to last? Did they try it for the sake of my younger brother and how he would feel if we weren’t together? I have no idea. But as I look back at this situation, I think yes they knew I wasn’t staying forever, they kept all the things I came with, so that they could send me away with the stuff I came with. Even down to the suitcase.

I still remember the day I got to visit my biological mom; all three of my brothers were also coming. We got to go visit our biological mom in a prison that seemed like a nice environment. They had activities for the kids to do with their parents who were in prison. It seemed like for all the bad things she had done this place was better than what she deserved. She lived better in this place than when she lived with various other men. We visited, and I still remember something that she told us, but was talking specifically to me, She said “ I will come back to get you when I get out of jail, and you shouldn’t have to live in a white person home, white people are not to be trusted.” At the time I was living with a foster family that was white. That was really the thing that I look back on that stands out to me the most. She didn’t care that they were clothing and feeding the child that she could care less about, she just wanted to sound like she cared about me. If she cared about me this would have never happened in the first place; my brothers and I wouldn’t have been separated and we would have had a mother, instead of foster parents. Did she really care? If she did this would have never happened and we wouldn’t have gone through what we did to get adopted.

Then after the last visitation with my biological mom, I was then put in a home where the mother was divorced and had one daughter who was older than me. She was an ok foster mom I guess, she didn’t even come close to comparing with the foster family that adopted my younger biological brother and sent me away. But she was better than nothing. She was always going out with guys and letting me watch inappropriate stuff with her on TV. I was there for Christmas and that was the worse Christmas ever. All I was given was a calculator, and notebooks. At least she took time to do my hair. She curled it every day, but always burnt the skin on the top of my ears. After a while I got use to my ears being burnt. At this house I was introduced to music artist such as; Ciara, Lil Jon, 50 Cent, Ludacris. After a short while I was then moved to another house, a couple of blocks away from the one I was sent away from.

At this house I was introduced to really scary movies. I was scared of spiders and centipedes. We watched a lot of things that a little 7 year old shouldn’t have watched. A lot of the movies we watched were so scary that I had nightmares, and I was afraid to go walk down the hallway at night to use the restroom. Did this family love me? Did they care about the things they were letting me watch as a family movie, like big mamma’s house, fat Albert, and so on? Were these movies even good? And were they family movies? As I look back these movies shouldn’t have ever been watched. They shouldn’t have been considered family movies. They were awful; they were about everything that a kid at the age 7 shouldn’t have been watching. Did they think about me when selecting these movies? I think not. Did they ever ask me if I wanted to watch these movies? No. Did they ever think how the things in these movies would look like in a child’s brain? I don’t really think they did. If I was talking when I should have been sleeping, I had to squat in the hallway all night unless they told me I could go back to bed. But more than half the time I was in the hallway all night. It didn’t matter if there was school the next morning or not, if I was doing anything disobedient my punishment was squatting in the hallway or doing more chores. A lot of the times when I was squatting in the hallway I wouldn’t sleep well. Sometimes if I had to squat the whole night in the hallway, and I would fall asleep and be found not squatting they would wake me up, so that I could squat properly. There were many school nights where I didn’t get enough sleep. I would fall asleep in class, because I was tired, but that never mattered to them.

I was introduced to a lot of bad things when I was going through foster homes. They never thought about me at all, it must have been a feel good thing, that they were taking a child from a bad situation and giving them a house, food, and clothing. But they weren’t taking the child from a bad situation and helping that child with emotional issues. They weren’t concerned about teaching me how to avoid being like the people who I was taken away from. They weren’t concerned about anything that had to do with me. So to take a child from a bad situation and feed them more bad things, is not fixing the problem at all. They were just feeding the problems that I had. Either they had no idea or interest in what I went through, or they just didn’t care. They were just doing the “Christian” thing. But really they were not.

I can say my last foster home was not a foster home for long. I was a very bad kid testing to see how long they would put up with me before they sent me away. And it never worked, they kept me. When I arrived with my yucky hand me down clothes and disgusting suitcase that I came with they took one look at that suitcase and threw it out. My foster father, who became my adopted father, said “let’s go the store and you can pick out any kind of candy you want.” So we went to Kwik Trip and I picked out pixie sticks that have the colored sugar in the inside. They were my favorite. I tried burning the house down twice, once in the downstairs bathroom and once in the garage. But they still kept me. With all the baggage that I came with, and with the problems and troubles that came with me. For some reason they were not falling for my bad behavior, they were not sending me away like everyone else did. Burning the house down was a new idea that I had never tried before anywhere else that I stayed at for a short while. But I thought I would try it here, because they were keeping me now matter what I tried to do; I was completely puzzled. Why would someone want to keep a child who was trying to burn the house down? Or who was a complete brat? I couldn’t figure it out, so I kept trying something new to see if they would get rid of me, but they never did, they just kept on loving me, despite the things that I had done to see if they truly wanted me and loved me. They never gave up on me either. And when I was eight I was adopted despite the things that I had done or the attempted things that I had done. They loved me no matter what I tried, said or did. It was weird, no one had ever treated me like they did, loving me and caring for me and even wanting to adopt me. And I thought the stuff that I did was the worst compared to the other foster families, and for some goofy reason this family still kept me. And that I thought I would never understand. But someday I will learn why they did what they did for a kid who has some bad emotional issues. They wanted me to talk about my feelings which I never did, so I still struggle with that. I had learned to keep my emotional troubles to myself, because no one was ever interested in my problems, but this family was. And one day I will learn to speak about my emotions, without hesitating. This family was my last family as a foster family, they became my forever family. My 11^th family at the age 7 ½ .

I always think about what my life could have been like had they not adopted me. Would I have been pregnant at a young age, would I have been arrested many times? Would my life have been as good as it is now? No, I would have been bad. So I thank God for my family, I have a hard time thanking them all the time for what they have done for me. But I am working on that emotional stuff. And there will be a day when I can say without hesitation that I am truly grateful for the blessing they have been to me and without them I wouldn’t have been the person I am today. They are and will continue to be my rock, and inspiration in everything that I do. They did a lot more for me than anyone ever did. I am truly grateful for them in my life.

My mom was a person who would only think of herself rather than thinking of the four beautiful children that she had brought into this world. She had 3 very handsome sons, and one adorable daughter, me. My mom would go shopping for clothes, and various other things that she thought she needed for herself knowing she couldn’t afford it and would write a check. My mom was serving prison time for writing checks knowing that she didn’t have the funds to buy whatever she though she needed at that time or place. My mom wasn’t ever a true mother to her four kids. I guess to her we didn’t even exist. She could leave us home alone for 3-4 days with each other, never letting us know where she was going,  what she was doing or when she’d be back. We were obviously a burden to her. And maybe we were even ruining her life, who knows what she was thinking. Did she ever think about what was racing through our brains when she would leave us for a few days? It wasn’t just once or twice that she would leave us like that, she did it many times. Did she ever think that maybe she should stop whatever she was doing to check on her children? Did it ever dawn upon her that we too have feelings? Maybe, just maybe we were feeling hurt, scared, and abandoned because we had no idea what to do?  Were we ever on her mind? Did she every worry about what her behavior was doing, or teaching us? I have so many unanswered questions to ask her? But as I think back and look at all the stuff she did to us, physically and emotionally in my opinion she didn’t give a hoot about us. She said she did when we visited her in prison, yet she never made one attempt to get us back. She never showed up for her court dates for the crimes that she committed, or to find out how she could go about getting her children back that she abandoned for long periods of time. How can someone have four children and pay no attention to them, or act like they don’t exist, leave them behind in a house by themselves trying to find food? She truly wasn’t fit mentally, and or emotionally to become a parent, but she did. She never owned up to her many mistakes which involved her kids a lot of the times. How could someone be so evil to children who did her no harm? I guess in her eyes, it was our fault and our mistakes that lead her to the life she was living. It was all us, none of it was ever her fault. I guess we just chose who our mother was going to be, and it was our full intention on ruining her life while we still could. We planned it since before we were born to pick a guy to be our father knowing we were going to ruin his life making him run off and not take responsibility for his actions and his for his child. Why is it our fault? Why is it our mistake? Why are we the burden, yet we are innocent? Was it our plan from the time of creation to pick two irresponsible people who were capable of making a child to be our parents? Why is all the blame on our shoulders? Why couldn’t my mom see that she was a big part in this? There are so many whys and not enough answers.

Have you ever had a bad memory or a bad traumatic event that happened in your life that you wish you could either forget forever or rewrite that day in your life so that it doesn’t haunt you?  I have on many different occasions.

I’m in my senior year of high school and I’m starting to think about what I want to do with my life. What do I want be, how do I want to live? Do I want to have my tragedies and emotions dictate how I live my life? I’ve had bad things happen to me; do I let those things run my mind, my emotions, and my behavior in a bad way? Or do I take those awful things and times, think and work through them, to help me become a better person? 

Do I want to be an aid to someone who  is either going through what I’ve been through or is out of that situation and is needing help sorting their thoughts and emotions  and give them a positive picture of hope and how they can live if they work through their problems to live a happier and more rewarding life? The things that have happened in my life are truly awful but they can be used to glorify God. The more time I have to think through these things I lean towards wanting to help others that struggle with these same thoughts. I want to be an encouragement to those who don’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. It is a long journey to the end of the tunnel, but there will be light at the end and not darkness or confusion. When you make it to the end of the tunnel, there’s this amazing feeling inside of you. You have overcome one of your greatest and most traumatic fears. Your past can’t be rewritten but you feel better knowing you have accomplished great things through these bad events.  You know the feeling when you do a job for someone and they say that looks wonderful or you did a really amazing job. That’s the feeling you get when you work out the bad things in your life.

I will admit it’s not easy. I’m still struggling with some things, but with the help and love of those who love and care about me I can be one hundred percent positive that I will be able to sort these things out. There are other problems that you may not be able to sort out because you are too young and don’t have the ability to comprehend all of the knowledge that is needed to decipher the great mystery. So some of my current things I’m beginning to work through were things that I couldn’t have possibly understood at a young age, because there just wasn’t enough knowledge to be able to think through it.

As I get older not only am I able to think through these things, but I also get to look at how those events have affected me in my everyday life with people and other challenging situations.  I get to look back at this point and think about how my life would have been and how would I have turned out thus far. Would I know the Lord? Would I have been in a good environment and around good people? I have a pretty good idea of what my life would have looked like had the Lord not had His hand on me. I truly do believe that God is with me though all of this. I read these stories in the news, about teens killing themselves because they were being bullied. Their life shouldn’t have ever ended that way, but they felt they needed to take matters into their own hands and try to solve the problem because they probably felt that they had no one to turn to or they were completely alone. Would that have been me? Would I have suffered those thoughts?  Had it not been for the feeling that someone was there ready to listen and help me through my struggles would I too have ended my own life? Had no one paid me any attention would I be typing this on the computer at this very moment? Would I have taken matters into my own hands to solve this big problem? Sometimes it may seem like that’s the only option. Your mind is being fogged up with emotions to the point that you can’t think straight to determine whether or not that is a good idea.  You feel like there is no one willing to put down whatever they are doing to help you, so you end it the way you think at the current moment it should go. I want to be one of those people who are relied upon to help others though these kinds of moments. There are those who help kids and young adults with this, but it would be even better for someone who has been through this and made it to the end to be an even bigger and better encouragement to those kinds of people.

Some of the things that I have on my mind are related to my childhood traumas. I’m very cautious of who I let get close to me in a friendship because I am afraid of being rejected. I know in my head that I am loved and that I can trust certain people, but I don’t know that my heart truly believes it yet. It will take time.

A big thank you to all who is a part of my life, I value our friendship. What each and every one of you have done for me will never ever be forgotten. Words won’t do any justice either.

I thank God for all of you.

By Jaclyn Wolf 11-04-14