01 8 / 2013

I grew up in someways very quickly and in someways not at all. My Reptar backpack that would last me through my High School years would be a testament to the latter while my opinion on drugs and alcohol always seemed as proof to the first.

I grew up in a small mountain town and made my best friend in the whole world just before Kindergarden. Kami is still my best friend to this day and is one of the very few people who I trust with many things but mainly with my heart. She seems to know how to work it better than I do. 

It would also be Kami who unintentionally made me how aware our adult foster home situation was not normal. It was about second grade when I began to not want friends to come over to my house. Kami and other tiny second graders would come over and be terrified of David and his loud expressional yells that I had grown so used too. I began to know there was a reason my parents couldn’t take us out to the movies. I would be a few years before Kami was comfortable coming over to my house and before I was comfortable with people coming over. 

It was always hard for me to explain to others what David and Ella were. When people think foster care they think children/teens and they seem to always think about it from the side of the child/teen. When they did try to see it from my side it was always “such a sacrifice” or “such a learning experience” and I have enough blessings bestowed on me to get me through the pearly gates and into a throne myself. What people never understood what that David and Ella were unrelated family, foster clients, disabled, and later in life would be a gift to me. At times I wished to be “normal” only to be confronted with the fact that not everyone could be normal because someone had to help and take care of those who were not.

My school education was fairly normal until fourth grade. The previous year I had had a wonderful teacher. She was kind, inspiring, gentle, and everything that I knew, in my heart, that a teacher should be. However, when I moved into fourth grade that was no longer fitting. Mrs. Lee would be the teacher that forever pushed me from traditional education. 

26 7 / 2013

This blog is mostly just for me. A place to express myself and hate other things. To talk about how I actually feel for once instead of hiding behind a smile or a white lie to cover a truth. 

This is my story. I will not lie. Every word I post on this blog will be the horrible truth of my life. For protection of the people involved I will change names but all of the events that transpire will be my stories.

I was born April 29th 1995 in a small town in Colorado. I was born to a family that I cherish beyond anything else. My mom is my best friend and I hope that she always will be. My dad is a role model and a true inspiration to my life. My older brother Carder is one of the few people I can really be myself with. I would never have become the person I am now without his aid. I am born and raised in Colorado. While we would jump mountain towns as I grew and never said no to a chance to travel, my home base was always in Colorado. 
The second part that is important to the beginning of my story is how I grew up. I grew up with two extra siblings. Though not related by blood, David and Ella were both part of my family.

My parents had started adult foster care way before I was born. Adult foster care is almost exactly as it sounds. Instead of taking in a kid whose parents are in jail, we took in adults who couldn’t take care of themselves and had no one to do it for them.

David was in a wheelchair. He had cerebral palsy and would live life quite happily and quite simply. My days with David would almost always consist of smiles. He would always smile and laugh. He did not have the brain development to be able to speak or even really know what you were saying to him. But you could play peek-a-boo and that smile and laugh would go on for hours. The bad days with Davis were mostly just yells. Unintelligible yells of tiredness or sometimes discomfort. Nights I spent falling asleep to his yells would still echo in my house long after he was gone.

Ella had meningitis as a child that didn’t get taken care of in time. She was taken from her parents and placed in foster care. Ella was more active than David. She could walk and some what answer you reliably. She didn’t speak but sometimes my dad could get her to make little sounds in the form of words. She also was known to have a little bit of a temper when she was younger. My brother had a distinct memory of her chasing him through the house (slowly) because of a stray ball hitting her in the shoulder. Luckily for my brother, she moved fairly slowly and was no match for a locked bathroom door.  

And even though I would spend years of my life helping to take care of both of these people, no scholarship would actually find it something worth recognizing years later. 

All of these people would play important parts in my life over the years as well as others who would come and go. Few would be consist, loved, and admired.