not liking biking
Today I was sitting on my futon watching Spongebob, trying to hide from the reality of my life. Windows opened and covered in my thumb-sucking ribbon blanket, I faded in and out throughout the day… passing time waiting for the day to be over.
the poem of my life
.
Did you have your moments of fun, slummin’ with the shit,
Comon’ really. …there was never much more to it.
.
Was it narcassitic to share all your success,
With one who is constantly living in distress?
.
I guess I am the idiot for trying to belong,
In the world of “the normal,” fuck I was wrong.
.
I guess it is humorous to laugh at my expense,
It must be funny to fuck with me, a person so dense.
.
It’s exactly what I expect and what I am used to,
People realize I am shit, and bid me adieu.
.
“FOR RENT” foster kids
This morning i woke up and was really bummed. I was crying throughout the night and i felt the hangover and exhaustion of having no more tears. I felt the need to hang out with Moonlight today. So i looked around and managed to scratch together $4.53, which i put into my pocket. I grabbed a blanket, Moonlight’s carrot squeaky toy and put them in
a backpack; put on two sweatshirts, grabbed my jacket and headed out the door with Moonlight. We walked to the shit-ass gas station where i tied Moonlight to a pole and went in to buy a small bag of Cheetos PUFFY and 2 Mountain Dews. Then me and Moonlight headed to the park.
As we walked to the park, i passed several “FOR RENT” signs at which time i realized that “FOR RENT” is perfect to describe kids in foster care.
.
“FOR RENT” means you pay to stay
“FOR RENT” means something that is used temporarily
“FOR RENT” means its not yours, it belongs to someone else
“FOR RENT” = PAY TO STAY
Foster kids come with a check. The state pays the foster parents for the kids to stay, just like in a rental situation, where you pay a landlord to stay in their place. The money is supposed to be used for the child; for food, clothing, things that the child needs. But, just like crappy landlords, who take your money and never use it to improve or fix your apartment…. there are crappy foster parents who never use the money 
for the child or who only use part of it for the child. Just like bad landlords who make money by never fixing anything, there are bad foster parents who make money off foster kids, by packing their home with as many kids as possible and not using the money for the children, but using it for themselves. It happens. Many foster parents don’t make money; and the good ones probably spend money…..but the reality is the kids “pay to stay.”
.
“FOR RENT” = TEMPORARY
Many time foster parents want to adopt. 
They are looking to give a “forever home” to some lucky child. Sometimes parents “try out a child” before making the permanent commitment. Sometimes they “rent” before they “buy.” When I was in foster care, sometimes I was “rented” for a short time, like a couple weeks or a couple months….and sometimes I was “rented” for a long time….lots of months or a couple years. Maybe I was being tried out, maybe I was always temporary. But none of it was EVER permanent. It was always a temporary place and a temporary situation.
.
“FOR RENT” = NOT REALLY YOURS
My life is made up of places and families that were never really mine. Something that is “FOR RENT” is never yours, it always belongs to someone else. You can never do what you completely want to or feel 100% secure or free in something that is “FOR RENT” because it is not yours. Growing up in foster care, it was never my bedroom or my house or my yard. It was never my special chair or my swingset or my tree. NEVER my mom or my dad or my sister or grandma. Nothing was ever really mine. A rental is never yours either.
.
These days, whe
n you see “FOR RENT” signs, there are usually statements like “2 bedrooms,” “updated bath,” “big kitchen” on the sign– so what did my sign say?
Sometimes it must have said “problem, falling apart” and sometimes it must have said “good fuck” and sometimes it must have said “special needs” and sometimes it must have said “good slave potential” and sometimes it said “what the hell do we do with this..any takers?”
In the beginning I bet my sign said “small, but cute, needs work, potential is great!” Maybe it was even a “For Sale” sign, hoping some family would “buy me!”
But, later, as I grew old in foster care, I bet my sign said “old, high needs, in major disrepair”... The reality is that few people would want to rent or buy something like that.
.
When I got to the park with Moonlight, I sat in the grass and thought about being “FOR RENT” for so long. I often wonder if anyone ever wanted to take a chance on “buying me” and making me permanent. I never got that feeling. Maybe the messages on my “FOR RENT” signs were so overwhelming that they scared everyone away…. can a traumatized, scared blond kid be that frightening? Or maybe the workers just stopped putting any signs out about me — never a “RENT TO OWN,” never a “DRASTICALLY REDUCED – FOR SALE” sign. Maybe they just gave up…
…but for me, years of being rented, never gave me any permanency.
the folded piece of paper in my pocket
i went to dr. val completely hung over. my eyes were crooked, my jeans were slipping off my ass, my hair was half standing up and i only had 1/2 bag of puffy cheetos left to share. actually dr. val only eats like 1 or 2 anyway, so that part doesn’t matter. she eats them like a bird… and i eat them like a kid.
i walked in late and it went like this:
DR. VAL: “LT, you are looking mighty hung-over? Was it worth it?”
ME: ahhhh. dunno. ask me later.
DR. VAL: “I guess my favorite word slipped your mind, yes?”
ME: ahh… feelings?
DR. VAL: “Oh yeah, that’s one of my favorites too!”
ME: um. yeah i know. joy.
DR. VAL: “It starts with an “M” and has an “on” and is kind of long.”
ME: oh yeah, montazoma’s revenge. my stomach is ok this time. thanks for asking Dr. Val. i ate cheetos to absorb the beer LOL
DR.VAL: “Are we having bathroom conversation —–”
ME: —– CRAP, i dont know. im hungover….. give me a break.
DR. VAL: “So what caused you to forget MODERATION last night?”
ME: nothing.
DR.VAL: “So, you just felt like getting really drunk?”
i sat there in my chair near the door, looking at the floor. why do i come to therapy again? — was floating through my head. i stood up, reached into my jeans pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. i slowly unfolded it as i sat down.
ME: …. like… because of this…
.
i handed Dr. Val the paper…
DR. VAL: “Oh… I see. Is this a breakdown?”
ME: …yeah… i dont know who made it and thats just one part because it had all the medical bills … every fucking one. .. on it. then Jessie,. … well …. like she …. sat down and went over it with me….. to like… show me… how the money .. i mean … how it worked….. see the columns? ….”
DR. VAL: “I see. Very detailed. That was nice of Jessie, yes?”
ME: …. yes i guess. i mean…. it was nice.
DR. VAL: “but?”
ME: …..<pause> …. Dr. Val…. her kids… KC and Page…. they are really smart. … in college … and like do really good. … and i was going over like math. … and. … and… Jessie thought i was stupid. ….
DR. VAL: “Jessie thought you were stupid? Did she say that?”
ME: … no, but she was thinkin’ it. … and then KC came in and was like “whats up?” ……and then Jessie was like “Going over the numbers with LT” ….and KC was like “cool” … but…
…but… they were really thinking how fucking stupid i am because i cant multiply or balance numbers and….
DR. VAL: “Woa…..hold on trooper. I did not hear anyone say you were stupid. In fact, it so
unded like KC said “cool” and made NO negative judgement, what-so-ever. Who is doing the judging?”
ME: them.
DR. VAL: “Really?” I think you were FEELING stupid and were projecting.”
ME: crap.
DR. VAL: “Bathroom talk again? “
ME: they think im stupid. …..
DR. VAL: “Well… nothing in the way they treat you tells me that they think you are stupid or any other words you want to call yourself. Where is that message really coming from, LT?
ME: dunno. them.
DR. VAL: “I don’t think so. Maybe in your past somewhere? hm? Instead of getting drunk and hurting yourself, what could you have done?”
ME: dunno.
DR. VAL: “When you are thinking or feeling that I hate you or think bad things about you, what do you do? “
ME: <mumble>… <mumble> check it out…
DR. VAL: “Louder so I can hear it!”
ME: crap….. i said check it out with them…… like … ask em.
DR. VAL: “Ask them LT. The names you call yourself are coming from your past; because the people in your present don’t treat you like you are stupid or ugly or dumb or all the other things that you call yourself. Next time, ask them. I bet they would be thrilled to tell you how they feel….”
ME: crap. … <pause> …. the beer wasnt worth it. it didnt make anything go away.
DR. VAL: “Never does, huh?”
ME: whatever Dr. Val.
i left my therapy appointment still tired, hungover, and with no more cheetos. as i waited for the bus, i was thinking about how relationships are complicated when you are not used to having positive ones. it’s like being a baby or a small child in an adult body…. when everyone else is ok with relationships but you are just learning. or how its like battling again… battling demons that fill your thoughts and feelings with events from the past and its out of your control.
then i realized some sad truth… even if i asked Jessie and KC if they thought i was stupid, the reality is i would not have trusted their answer…
…because I’m still working on that too…
noble truths of a drunk
today i went to talk to jessie so she could help me understand all the shit about my settlement. after she dropped me off at my apartment, i took the $20 she gave me and walked to the gas station and bought a case of miller and a big bag of cheetos puffy. CHEEEEEEEEEEEEETTTTTTTTTTTTTTOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSs
i am on miller #5
1-2-3-5 then 6-7-9-11-12 BEeeEeeRrRrRr
.
realized today are
the 4 noble truths of LT
.
#1 – you cant fix stupid. there are smart poeple and stupid people and im stupid
.
#2 – if your used like dirty toilet paper, you need to be flushed, cause youll never be clean again
.
#3 – shit stays shit ….and people hate smellie shit
.
#4 – if you groe up without a family, you will always be looking in from the outside. you will never truely belong
miller #6 is calling me…..
Foster Parents… Don’t Forget Finance 101
All this recent stress about money and the settlement from my bike accident got me thinking. My knowledge and skills regarding money, credit, bills, taxes, spending, bank accounts, …. SUCK…. and this is a failure of the foster care system. I aged-out of foster care at 18, still a sophomore in high-school, and not in an ILP.
Before you tell me “all foster kids are required to take life skills” — I say bullshit and READ THIS from 2010. This is one state, but 67% of the oldest foster children HAD NOT completed a Life Skills course that would help them to live independently and qualify for financial assistance. The majority of youth said they had never completed a life-skills program, which provides instruction in financial management, cooking, housekeeping and other living skills. Representatives of NJ stated that there were not enough programs…”
Well that is just fabulous…. don’t you think? Kick kids out with no home, no jobs, and no skills. Guess what happens to them?
As this non-profit leader says HERE: “We go from ‘you’re in foster care, where you may handle $10 a month’ to ‘you’re responsible for everything’”
I am not going to spend the rest of this blog giving you statistics… you can find them yourself on the web. I am going to spend the rest of this blog giving you ideas how to help and examples from my life.
The system can’t seem to get it right, so foster parents, IT IS UP TO YOU!
Finance 101 – Things to focus on with foster children…
fatty tumor
I walked to work today to use the phone, because my phone is still disconnected and I needed to call my vet. Last week, my dog, Moonlight, went to the vet because she has a lump on her side. The vet took some liquid out of the lump with a syringe and sent it to the lab. She told me it would take 7-10 days for the results. I arrived at work and I called, but my vet was in a room with another patient. The vet tech said she would call me back shortly since she was almost done.
I waited in fear and sadness, hoping that Moonlight would be ok. The phone rang and I picked it up…
ME: “hello?”
VET: “LT?”
ME: “hi, Dr K, it’s me. “
VET: “Hi LT. How’s Moonlight? … I tried calling you a couple of times, but your phone is disconnected…”
ME: “yeah, sorry… i know. i gotta fix that. … sorry.. did the test come back?”
VET: “Yes, the needle aspirate results came back and its good news. Moonlight has a fatty tumor…”
ME: “……is that cancer?”
VET: “No. It is a benign tumor, not cancer. Many geriatric dogs get them. We need to watch it, but we will leave it alone for now. You know it is a big risk to put Moonlight under because of all her condition and all the medications she takes, so we will just let it be. If it gets bigger or starts to bother her, we might have to take another look.”
ME: “.. so its not cancer.. right?”
VET: “Right.”
ME: “whew, im really glad. thanks.”
VET: “I’m glad too. Call if you have any questions.”
ME: “thanks for your help. bye.”
We hung up and I left to go home and take a nap; this week has been over-the-top. As I was walking, I felt overwhelmed with questions… Why is it a tumor but not cancer? Why does Moonlight have a fatty tumor… she is not fat at all? Why does she keep getting these weird things? Why does all this stuff happen to her?
Then I felt overwhelmed with feelings as I recalled that my vet referred to Moonlight as “geriatric.” I know why she does that, I do… but it hurts. My settlement will provide money that will let me care for her without worrying now… but…
All the money in the world can’t make Moonlight any younger.
All the money in the world can’t make Moonlight be with me forever.
All the money in the world can’t stop my dog from getting old and dying.
… and …
All the money in the world can’t make me live without her…
non-deserving
I just kept sitting there in the law office. I could feel Jessie and my lawyer staring at me, even though I was staring at the floor. I was still spinning and my head felt very clogged. My head was so crowded that I could not make out one thought. I felt very surreal. I couldn’t feel my body except for the power of my slowly blinking eyes as I stared at the floor.
Jessie ligh
tly touched my hand and said something like “LT, why don’t we go get something to eat and drink and talk for awhile.” I looked up. They were smiling, I was sweating. Jessie got up and hugged my lawyer… they were acquaitnesses before, so that was a normal. She told him that we would call back. I was still sitting. I almost couldn’t move. She knelt down and said “Comon kiddo, lets get out of here.” I shook my head and stood up. Nothing more. The walk to the car and the ride to the restaurant were silent. I was struggling with my feelings. No words could come, but I knew what I was feeling…
I felt BAD.
I felt BAD because I did not feel I deserved a break. I felt BAD because I did not feel like I deserved “happiness.” I felt BAD because I was about to get more money than my biofamily probably ever had. I felt BAD because was I being bought? … like a whore? I felt BAD because I can barely manage the small amount of money I live on, let alone now this. I felt BAD because nothing “good” is supposed to happen to me, because I am a piece of shit… I felt BAD because … because I am a BAD person and I don’t deserve GOOD.
We got to the restaurant and I just followed Jessie in. I wasnt hungry and I wasnt thirsty… I was BAD. We sat down and Jessie ordered an ice tea unsweetened for her and a large dr. pepper for me.
JESSIE: “Overwhelming, huh?”
ME:
JESSIE: “LT, do you what to tell me what’s on your mind? I thought maybe you might be happy with the settlement offer. What’s up?“
ME: “ahh. um. <pause> i just…. just .. i mean the settlement is good… i … guess.”
JESSIE: “You guess? Were you thinking more?”
ME: “oh no. i…. didnt even think that much. i didnt even realize how much it was. <pause> .. its not the money… i mean its the money… its….”
JESSIE: “Oh, I see.”
I swirled my straw in my dr. pepper and watched the ice hit the side of the glass.
ME: “i…. i … feel kinda… scared. i mean, its lots of money. i cant even keep my money and bills straight now… .. what do i do with that money? “
JESSIE: “LT, we can work it out. Once all the medical bills are paid, we will take the remaining money and figure out what to do. The lawyer’s office could arrange it or we could. KC’s dad and I do not want to intrude if you do not want us involved, but if you do, we will help. What do you do with the money? LT, it makes life a little easier for you. For example, instead of working 60-70 hours a week, maybe you work 30 hours and take a class at 
community college, an art class, or adult night school. You have money if you need food, money if you want to buy something special for yourself, go to the movies… do things that young people do… see? Some goes into savings, and maybe some into a pet account for Moonlight, Shadow, and Harbor. See?”
ME: ” Jessie?”
JESSIE: “Yes LT?”
ME: “…. well… and. ….
JESSIE: “Yes?”
ME: “… and … <pause> … i feel really bad too. i dont think i should get that money…. “
JESSIE: “Oh, I see. Why do you think that LT?”
ME: “…dunno really. um…. maybe i dont deserve anything good? …. i just feel really bad… thats why i was quiet … i mean, im supposed to be happy, but im not.”
JESSIE: “LT… look at me. You DESERVE lots and lots of good things. You DESERVE good things in your life. Maybe even more than most people do. There is a backlog of good things you need to cash in on. This settlement is a start. You deserve this money because someone hurt you. Someone hurt you. Money doesn’t fix everything or take away the experience, but it might help you have an easier life for a little. You deserve that, don’t you think?”
ME: “…… …… i dont know. i really dont know….”
when you can’t pee… it’s worth a shitload of money
I almost dont know wh
ere to begin. I have been in shock since friday. Confused too. And scared. In fact, I kind of missed a couple days…almost completely.
.
Last friday, i went to see my lawyer with Jessie (my friend KC’s mom). You see, on April 18, 2011, I was riding my bike and was hit by a car. I got hurt, with multiple injuries. Besides cuts and scrapes, mainly:
1. I had a vulvar hematom
a and couldnt pee. At the hospital after having an A/P CT scan, the doctors did a full exam of “down there,” and then the doctors had to catheterize me. This injury caused a shitload of pain and I was downing percocets daily (coming from someone with a high pain tolerance!) The dam catheter was in until April 28th, but the doctor did not clear me until June 18th, after the hematoma subsided.
2. I broke my distal radius. At first I was put in a long arm cast on April 22nd after the swelling got reduced. My wrist was not healing and it was unstable. I forget the term to describe the break… but I had surgery on my wrist and a Wristjack was attached on May 18th. The Wristjack sucked. I got out of the hospital on May 20th. The Wristjack was on my arm until July 29th. I couldnt move most of my fingers or my wrist. I had PT from August un
til November. I have exercises I am supposed to do for a year, because my wrist will still heal the doctor said. I am expected to have some pain with my wrist for up to 2 years when doing “heavy” activity and I may have aches and stiffness for the rest of my life.
.
I stopped looking at the medical bills coming in, because I was freaking out. My ER visit, level 4 was $1715 and that did not include medications, supplies, lab tests, scans, or doctors. Honestly, I don’t know what it included. My A/P CT scan with contrast was $4386… wrist views $545 … room and board when I had wrist surgery was $1524 per day!…. the operating room and anesthesia was billed for the first 30 minutes and then every 15 minutes!!! Physician fees, medications, supplies, outpatient visits, PT….
See? Insane.
So, in my state, the injuries I got are considered “severe” and my medical expenses are above some quota. I didnt really understand everything that was being said, because I dont drive, I dont have insurance of any kind, and I never had money in my life. But what it means is that because of the severity of my injuries and high medical expenses, my lawyer can file a personal injury claim for damages.
As my lawyer was explaining things, I was trying to understand. This is how I heard things….. Medical expenses, negotiated expenses…. transportation costs….. bike replacement …. other property damage …. work ….. pain and suffering. Your past and the impact of your injury … flashbacks, doctors reports. Nightmares, hospital reports … depression, suicidal thoughts, anxiety, fear increased , Dr. Val notes. Driver tried to evade blame … witness reports. … lifestyle altered dramatically … statement from my boss that i could not work with the Wristjack because of my job duties….
OMG. I never realized a lawyer did so much. He had all kinds of papers, reports, communication notes. He kept talking and trying to show me papers. Medical expenses were itemized… did he take all those bills from my trash bag? Schedules from my boss that showed my “typical” work ….what? Written documentation from Dr. Val.. what? Jessie was listening and I was losing track. It seemed to become so complicated. My head was spinning… “I just want a new bike” I kept thinking….
I heard “after presenting the demand, and getting a response, and presenting another demand …. how does x hundred xx sound to settle?” I suddenly felt a wave of depression. x hundred is barely enough to pay for a new bike… What about all the money I owe Jessie? What about all those medical bills… thousands and thousands and tens of thousands of dollars? I looked at Jessie and then at my lawyer and said “you mean i won xxx… ah.. x hundred xx?”
After that came out of my mouth, I felt REALLY stupid, as I saw Jessie glance at my lawyer. She looked at me, as I was rubbing my hands through my messy hair… “LT, its ok. Not x hundred xx, x hundred xx thousand. Do you understand?” I just looked at her. I had no idea what she was talking about. See, I understand “hundred” because I make a couple hundred dollars a week when I work. I understand “thousands” because I make like $15,000 a year when I work. Was she talking hundreds or thousands or ????
I just sat there.
Jessie then took a piece of paper and wrote something on it. I just sat there. She moved close to me and this is what was on the paper:
x00 = x hundred
x000 = x thousand
x0,000 = x0 thousand
x00,000 = x hundred thousand
She watched me looking stupid at the paper.
“LT, that money will pay all your medical bills, which have been reduced by 45% from the original total; as well as some for future bills … plus 8 months compensation from lost work, transportation expenses like the bus or cabs, other damages like your sweatshirts that had to be cut up for the wristjack, and your jeans that were ripped at the accident, a new bike, and some extra for pain and suffering. He can show you how he figured that amount out. The law firm will also take 30%. The settlement is based on your total medical expenses, not the negotiated reduced expenses. You will get an accounting statement that will show everything.”
I just sat there. I was still not exactly getting it. That was alot to listen to…
My lawyer said something like “I believe it is a generous settlement. A jury might award you some more, because your life will pull at heartstrings, and your injuries clearly cause physical and emotional pain and suffering, but honestly I am not sure it will be worth it … for you.” He smiled at me.
I just sat there… confused … overwhelmed … excited … and unbelievably scared
the lawyer better win me a new bike
i go to my lawyer with KC’s mom, Jessie, later this afternoon. i don’t know why i am going because i didnt directly talk with my lawyer. i forgot to pay the phone bill i think, so my phone is disconnected again. i cant remember how many months i forgot and i cant find the paper bills. sucks. sometimes i forget the other bills, but the phone is the worst.
in april 2011, i was on my bike and a car hit me. i had some injuries including a broken wrist, which eventually needed surgery and stabilization with the wristjack and an injury to the female area and i couldnt pee. it sucked. (READ HERE and READ HERE and READ HERE for examples)
my bike was wrecked. t
hat bike was the nicest material thing i ever owned in my whole life. my boss and his wife gave it to me. i dont own a car and the bus gets expensive, so i bike all over the place. remember that time that “a part” stole it and left it in a park… and i was freaked out. i hope the lawyer wins so i can get a nice bike. they are like a couple hundred i think. i used to get them used for like $25, but the one that got wrecked was MINE.
.
also, i have TONS and TONS of 
medical bills. i have no health insurance. the bills come and i just put them in a trash bag. sometimes i dont even open them, just throw them in the bag.. i cant pay for all that and they dont wait for the legal stuff. they want their money. plus i have bills from the thyroid problem, being sick, and the times i have been in the mental hospital since i moved here. i am on payment plans for those.
i said i wanted some clothes because i had to rip my sleeves because at first i had a long cast on my arm and then the wristjack. but jessie took me clothes shopping, so maybe i dont need anymore. although my pants are falling down… maybe a belt.
.
i have to pay jessie and mark back because when i couldnt work, they loaned me the money. the paper with all the totals is on their refrigerator. i think the lawyer should win that too because if i didnt have a wristjack, i could have worked. if he doesnt win that, i have NO idea how i am ever going to pay them… its been months!
so, i am terrible with money so its good jessie is going. also i get nervous around lawyers because of life in foster care. maybe its just a check in meeting. who knows?
… probably with my crappy luck, i will be the one found guilty…
nature speaks
I NEED A MOM
even animals have moms
baby black bear = 2 years with mom
.
baby kola = 6 months JUST in the safe pouch
.
baby polar bear = 2-3 years until they can survive
.
baby orangutan = nurses 6-7 years
.
baby elephant = 2-3 years nursing
.
baby killer whale = FOREVER!
.
I AM UN-NATURAL
Mom?
.
.
2012 is a new year …. and i already wish it were old
.
Thus far 2012 has not been stellar. In 10 days….the top 5 things that SUCK are….
.
I. Stitches
Dr. S was not at the clinic. It was a new doctor and i didnt like her, because she kept telling me i had to “stop this and that i was only hurting myself..” Um, ok, yeah. Read my chart next time… I can’t just STOP something i have been doing for half my life and sometimes dont even remember it. I cant just STOP because in a fucked up way, it keeps me alive. 
I wanted to leave, but my cuts would not stop bleeding, fat cell rice krispee things were popping out, and 3 of the cuts i couldnt close by myself. This is what i do to myself ——-> on my body… so clearly new doctor the severity is NOT just a “new thing i can just STOP easily…”
I kept laying there.
When she stitch
ed the 2 cuts that were on my stomach, she asked what my “big, non-cutting scar” was from. READ MY FILE. I said “its private” …. she didnt like that. I didnt like her as a doctor. She kept asking me about my therapist; like she didnt believe i have one. READ MY FILE.
.
Finally she finished and left. As she exited i fli
pped the bird … just as Nurse J walked in.
I apologized to her and tried to mumble my explanation. She just smirked and told me to “get outta here….”
.
.
II. Moonlight Has a Bump
I have been depressed and sitting on my ass for days. When i get like this, i usually spend alot of time near Moonlight because she makes me feel safe. I was petting her this weekend and noticed a lump on her rib on her top left side. It was hard and like the size of a golf ball. I have no clue where it came from. It is different than the other bumps she had. It didnt hurt her when i pushed on it and stuff. I cried.
I took 
Moonlight to the vet. My vet said it is not the same as the last bumps which were tumors of the hair follicle. Those were smaller and felt more like little squishy marbles. This one feels like a golf ball.
I had to hold Moonlight’s head, the tech held Moonlight’s body and my vet stuck a needle 5 times into the bump. Out came yellowish liquid, white liquid, and blood. It’s off to the lab.
Moonlight got like 20 treats…. normally she gets like 5.
If Moonlight dies, I am done. I am giving my other dog, Shadow, to KC. Harbor, my cat, will either come with me into death or I will give him to KC too. I can’t live without Moon. She can’t leave me too.
My vet said she is getting sick alot because she is getting older and has a chronic disease that takes a toll on her. I cried. I dont know how old Moonlight is, but my vet considers her a senior or a geriatric dog. Thats old.
.
.
III. In-Trouble…My First Day Back
Today was my first day back to work since April 2011. Recall i got hit on my bike. Then when i got cleared from the physical therapist, i got sick. Joy. I was supposed to be there at 10:00 AM, but was late because i dont have a bike anymore since the car accident. I walked into the backroom and some kid was standing there and said “what are you doing here?” I looked at him and said “ah…. i work here.” Before he or i could get another word out, i heard KC scream “Hey LT, Welcome back.. Yippee..” I smirked at the guy and head nodded to KC. KC then introduced me to Scott. I hadnt seen KC since before christmas because she went away and then she went back to college… and i was depressed and sitting on my ass.
My boss wasn
t around, so KC and i went and sat in the dining room. She was telling me some funny stuff and we were cracking up. We were so busy jawing away, that i didnt hear my boss call me…twice. Next thing i knew, he was standing there telling us to “You two cut it out. KC you get back to work and LT come with me.” oops. Wouldn’t that have been crappy if i got fired on my first day back?
My boss wants me to only work part-time for a couple weeks, so i get back into the swing of things.
“what? im not building space rockets or curing cancer….seriously?”
I was kind of pissed, because i need money. But honestly, i am just thankful my boss kept my job for me when i was out. Not too many good bosses like that. And i get to work with KC, although i have a strange feeling boss is going to schedule us to work different shifts…
.
.
IV. Lawyer
KC told me that MY lawyer called her mom for an appointment this week. Apparently he called me sever
al times. KC asked me if i paid the phone bill. I couldnt remember.
All i know is i want a bike. The car wrecked mine. I dont understand why it takes so long… CLEARLY his car hit me on my bike. Just take responsibility because i am tired of taking the bus and walking….
.
.
V. Sick Therapist
Dr. Val who told me she never gets sick because she is healthy and eats well, blah, blah, blah…. IS SICK. She was absent for the holidays and then she got sick. I took the bus to therapy and her office partner gave me a note. Hint #2 that something is wrong with my phone… becuase the note said Dr. Val tried to call.
It is a good thing i have matured in therapy after all this time. Instead of quitting, i will go to my next session and just tell her she sucks.
believe
when i was growing up with my bioparents, they never believed me
my mother never believed me when i told her i was starving… she never filled the frig
my mother never believed me when i begged her not to leave because i got scared … she left anyway
my mother never believed me that it hurt, when she took cigarettes to my body and burned the shit out of me … she laughed
my father nev
er believed me when when i begged him to stop hitting me with his fist, his hand, his board, his cord… he kept doing it
my father never believed me when i told him he was hurting me when his big dick entered my little body … he said it didnt hurt, or it was to fix me, or nothing at all because he was getting off
as time goes by living with chronic child abuse, little kids develope amazing defenses to battle the pain. ive written about some of mine and what i experience as an adult
.
when i was growing up in foster care, not too many people believed me either
“the system” did not believe me and kelly’s crys about Mr R-pp-n for awhile … apparently once you have been used as a fuck toy, it is not an urgent matter
“the system” did not believe that i was kept outside and forced to eat food off the ground … until it happened to another kid too
by the time i got to be a pre-teen, i didnt care anymore. i stopped telling, crying, asking for help …
.
all i have done with this blog is write about my life and growing up in foster care. i have tried to provide ideas about how to fix the system and how to help kids and parents dealing with foster care. i have answered some questions by readers, written about nusances of foster care, and what it feels like to be a foster kid. i have not hurt anyone, but tried to help the only way i can right now. CASA rejected me where i live now because i am too fucked up, i have no college degree and no money to be a social worker… so i write that maybe something that helped me helps other foster parents or so that people understand foster care or their foster kids better.
why is it so hard to believe?
children are ABUSED and children DIE because of their parents.
- In the US, more than 3 kids die as a result of child abuse in the home EVERY DAY
- Child abuse is reported every 10 seconds
- 1/3 girls and 1/5 boys are sexually abused in childhood
- 1/13 kids with a parent on drugs is physically abused REGULARLY
- Drug and alcohol abuse in the family makes chilld abuse TWICE as likely
.
would it be believable if i told you how it hurts like hell to get burned by a cigarette. how your little hairs sizzle and the skin bubbles. the stinging is so bad that you try to pull away but your mom is stronger. the only thing you can think to do is sit down. your mom lets go, but the burning doesnt stop. nope. it continues to feel like it is on fire. you take your little hand and wrap it around your arm trying to squeeze the pain away. you feel on fire. water or spit seems like the solution. eventually a soft feeling bubble with liquid in it develops that is kind of interesting, but if you hit it or touch it, it zaps. and after lots of this behavior from your mom, you grow up with some well-defined scars that scream CIGARETTE BURN on your body.
would it be believable if i told you what it felt like to be fucked against your will… when you are little? how a violent person can tear your insides out and you can feel your little self rip. how spit (the poor man’s or rapists lube) doesnt work. or maybe the fucker decides to be gentle that day so he fingers you so it doesnt hurt for him to get in, but he grabs your developing, sensitive breasts and squeezes the shit out of them. that is painful too… little nipples just developing are hypersensitive… but big men have big hands, so they dont get that. or how it hurts to be chaeffed “down there” because your little skin is rubbed so much by big men with lots of pubic hair and rough skin. sometimes it bleeds because it is so raw on the outside. but it doesn’t matter to the big men, they just use some spit and go again.
would it be believable if i told you what it felt like to lie on the floor, curled in a ball, crying in pain and holding my stomach because it hurts too much to pee … because big people have fucked the crap out of me …. but it hurts so much to hold it in too. you see, i cant go and i cant hold it anymore … and my mom, shit, no-one cares.
.
what else do you want from me? come over and see the scars of my life…?
you aren’t being forced to read. you arent paying for a thing. ive never attacked you in “your space,” or any space…grant me the same respect. i poor my heart and feelings into this blog… i havent taken a thing … NOTHING. i just write about my life and trying to help and change foster care. what the fuck is wrong with that? if i was “unbelievable” i would have walked away years ago when people were offering to pay for my dogs, offering me clothes, offering me sneakers, offering all kinds of shit. Blogs all over the web have ads, paypal accounts, etc….. I TOOK NOTHING, but still write.
right now, i am so triggered, very unsafe, and really sad…. believe that.
dying dreams may kill the dreamer
today i laid on the floor and stared at the ceiling. no tv. no radio. silence. i was waiting to die. i closed my eyes many times, but it did not happen. i pictured the ceiling falling on me. i imagined a massive heart attack. at one point, i imagined my dog Moonlight mauling me to death.
im tired.
its not tired like “goto bed earlier or get more sleep” because the reality is, i nap all day. its tired like “ive had it, im done, i cant simply go on” tired.
im tired 
of being an island, with occasional tourists… and many who don’t want to visit
im tired of not having any direction, because i have no support, no money, no education… to really make one happen
.
im tired of having questions about me or life, that i really need a mom for; and struggling to decide whether to ask Dr. Val
im tired of the self-hate, self-harm, self-destruction, self-survival
im tired of not having….. a family, money, things, fun, ….. a childhood
tired.
what are my dreams?
i dont know. i really dont. i am beginning to think i dont have any now… that i just walk through life “existing” until… … …
all i ever really dreamed of was a family to call my own. a family that loved me and wanted me. a family to have some connection that is mine. at age 7 it seemed possible. at age 8 it seemed possible. at age 9, th
e dream was slipping away. by age 11, the dream was gone and reality set in; no-one wants to adopt an old kid. at age 18, the dream died as my ass was kicked out the foster care door.
the street became a family; but it was just like the other families i had experienced… , rejecting, abusive, hurtful, and hard. the streets dont really want or love anyone. like with all the families that passed through my life, the streets were about surviving them.
when dreams die… where does that leave the dreamer?
Feelings binged … feelings barfed …
Today I ate an entire box of Ding Dongs in one sitting. That is 12 yummy treats. Ding Dongs are chocolate cakes filled with white creme that are covered in chocolate. They are made by Hostess. In all honesty, Little Debbie Swiss Cake Roles are better and cheaper, BUT my supermarket was having a “buy 1 get 1 free” on Hostess products and I wanted a box of Twinkees too.
I sat on the f
loor and unwrapped each individual Ding Dong and layed them on the box. I felt myself slip away into ecstasy as I stared at the chocolate. It was as if the Ding Dongs were mesmerizing me to focus only on them. It was tunnel vision between me and 12 Ding Dongs. The rest of the world did not exist.
.
And the winners are….
The second part of the Versatile Blogger Award is that I have to give it to 5 other bloggers. I thought about this for awhile, because as you know, I stopped reading ALOT of blogs in the Fall, because I became deeply saddened by the disparaging and disrespectful tone that many foster/adoptive parent blogs were taking. I stopped reading most of them. It does not seem loving or caring to me to embarrass children, bitch about them, or share their personal struggles to the public, and in many cases with pictures, real names, or identifying information. Imagine how the children would feel if they saw their “mothers and fathers” writing such things. More pain in their lives. It was shocking to me, so I stopped reading…
7 things you get to know about me…
If you recall, my blog was given the Versatile Blog Award, from InstantMama. The award requires me to share SEVEN things about me that you don’t know. It was sort of hard for me to think of SEVEN things about me that are not wrapped up in my blog, but here we go…
.
LT’s New Years Plea
.
You clicked on this blog, hoping to find
A poem, a rhyme, a one of a kind.
Year 2011 has gone away,
But 2012 is here to stay.
.
In this new year, I beg and I plead,
Please do something to help a child in need!
Mentor, or tutor, or CASA, or volunteer,
The plight of children is forgotten, I fear.
.
Donate your time or maybe some money,
So many children need help, it’s not even funny.
The power to help them is in each one of you,
It doesn’t take an army, just a simple gesture or two.
.
Throughout the world, in every land,
Children are alone, scared, and need a helping hand.
We can’t ignore it, it won’t go away,
Children in need of families are here to stay.
.
So dear readers and my blog crew,
Consider helping, anything you can do.
As you ponder and think of the new year ahead,
Remember the children, who don’t have their own bed.
.
2012 is just beginning, a new start is here,
I want to wish all my readers, a Happy New Year.
award received … and ones i really deserve
On christmas day, I received a blog award from Instantmama who selected my blog as one of her choices for the “Versatile Blog Award.” (Click here and scroll down to #5). The award has been around for awhile and has passed around blogs…..and I thank Instantmama for thinking about me.
In all honesty, I had to look up the meaning of versatile on google…so, I hope that I still get to keep the award? Can you imagine…“Hey, I had an award once, but I didn’t know what it meant… so they took it back… “
The award comes with 2 parts…
PART I: I have to share SEVEN things about myself that you readers don’t know.. That’s pretty hard for someone who doesn’t trust a soul and is pretty protective … Plus, in reality, I actually do reveal alot about my thoughts and emotions in my blog… I am working on this… and the SEVEN will be a mix of funny, sad, and strange.
PART II: I have to give the award to FIVE other bloggers that I respect. This is pretty hard too, since I stopped reading alot of blogs in the Fall. Many were very hurtful to me reading how disparaging and disrespectful they were to their “difficult” children, mostly adoptive and foster children. So, the reality is I stopped reading most blogs… but I do know a few that I can pass this award on and are very deserving.
At first, I was excited to receive an award …
However, as usual, it has really made me reflect on “me”… 
I never got an award for anything. Not a trophy, not a plaque, not a certificate, not an honor roll or dean’s list (my friend KC got on that), nothing….. I wasn’t involved in anything or good at anything where traditional awards would be given. No sports, no school things, no extracurricular activities, nothing.
I started thinking about awards I deserve .. and I came up with the following list that pretty much summarizes my life…
.
I. Most Gullible Award
Received because as a child, my biomother would call me to her and pretend to ask for a hug. Instead of hugging me, she would hit me, burn me with her cigarette, or grab me and put me somewhere (closet, bedroom) where my biofather could easily get to me. You would think after once or twice, I would stop falling for this “hug trick.” Nope. I kept falling for it, hoping for the hug. Maybe this should also be the biggest idiot award.
.
II. Fantastic Fuck Award
I must have been good at this, because it kept happening. When I was living with my bioparents and it first started, I was not very good. I would cry and beg and squirm and try to escape. But it just hurt more… and it got more violent the more I struggled. I’d get hit and fucked, and hit some more. So I stopped fighting… and I guess that was better for them. Once I was “broken in,” I guess it was written on my forehead — “Fuck me” – because after I left my bioparents and their druggie friends, some foster parents liked it too… One even told me after every time that I was a “good girl” when he finished. I guess I was good at one thing… fucking. If I got an award for each time some male unwantedly fucked me, I could probably cover the walls of my apartment and more. Most days, I feel like nothing more than a good fuck and worth nothing more than someone else’s pleasure machine. When I think about it too much, like now, I want to kill myself.
.
III. Stupidity Award
This is easy. I was 18 years old when I was just starting sophomore year in highschool. Sophomores are usually 15 years old. I didn’t even finish sophomore year because I aged-out of the foster care system. Without the computer, I would be a fucking idiot. I don’t know where countries are, I don’t know where states are unless I lived in them, I don’t know science or math or any language. It takes me a long time to read. I look at the words and they don’t register in my brain. I write, but I can barely read it back. It’s like I forgot what I just wrote. At work, they don’t write anything down for me because I screw it up; they tell me verbally. Basically I am a walking idiot.
.
IV. Most Unwanted Child Award
Bioparents never wanted me. I was nothing but a mistake. They told me that alot. They also told me they wish I was dead. So, that is pretty unwanted. Foster parents never wanted me. Not one foster home wanted to keep me. No-one wants me.
.
V. Biggest Pain in the Ass Foster Child Award
I was in foster care from age 7 until age 18…. 11 years. No-one ever adopted me. I moved around alot, had lots of case workers, and was basically a bother to everyone involved in the system who was supposed to care for me. At some point, after being in foster care for a number of years, you just become a pain in the ass. I often think that workers pray for something to happen to “long-term” foster kids, just so they don’t have to deal with them on their case load anymore… I was a bad kid and I did alot of bad things… no-one wants those types of kids. Workers have to figure out what to do with kids like me… such a freaking bother.
.
VI. Overall Sum of Self Award
the shitty life story of socks… er, foster kids
I hate socks. I hate the way they feel on my feet. I hate the way they confine my feet. When i lived on the streets after aging-out of foster care, socks could be a danger to my feet. Wet sock = blisters, holey socks= blisters, socks that bunched up because they were too big =blisters… you get my drift?
So blisters aren’t a big deal… right? WRONG.
On the street, blisters 
and dirty feet = infection. What a pain in the ass. Out of control, it could be a serious problem. Socks are meant to keep your feet warm, but in the wrong circumstances they can be hazardous. Wrong-sized shoes and bad socks are a recipe for disaster…
So i hate socks. Since i got off the streets, i never wear them. But today i was looking at a pair laying in my closet and i realized that the life story of a sock is similar to the life story of many foster kids.
Socks can be funny or boring, white or colored, short or long, new or old, ripped or not, dirty or clean, pretty or ugly, thin or thick, outrageous or subdued… just like foster kids. The most popular color of sock is white, followed by black. Most people like to purchase socks that are easy to wear, no special needs or extra work wanted.
When socks are new, they are tight and mold to your feet. Socks keep close and in essence do what your feet direct them to do. The new socks bend when your toes bend or move to the side when your foot moves to the side. They don’t fall down and they keep close to your
feet, ankle and legs. Very rarely do you have to pull them up. But over time, socks stretch, get bigger, and no longer stay so tight. They may fall down and need to be pulled up frequently. They may change shape and thus not keep close to your foot anymore. They may become difficult because they don’t fit “right” or need constant adjusting. They may form holes, so large that it seems like nothing can fill them. Socks that don’t fit right may cause problems. They may stress the feet, rub them the wrong way, or not keep the feet safe.
Socks that require extra
attention become bothersome. Who wants to pull-up old socks multiple times a day? Who wants to adjust the toe of the sock constantly, as it bunches up in your shoe? Who wants to sew a hole that develops and may constantly rip; requiring repair, effort, and time?
Not too many people have extra time for problematic socks.
Socks can be worn and tried out by multiple people. Some socks get purchased and then quickly returned when the wearer decides he/she does not like the socks. Put back on the rack, waiting for the next person to get the unwanted socks. Some people borrow socks for a day, a weekend, or longer. At some point the borrower returns the socks after using them or abusing them or after their needs have been met. Just give the socks back when they are finished wearing them.
As socks get old or used or require too much effort, they are thrown away. They may be too big, too out-of shape, too worn, fall down too much, develop too many holes… the socks basically need more effort than they are worth. A beat-up pair of socks is easy to replace with a newer pair… that fits better with the lifestyle and needs of the sock wearer.
No wonder why I hate socks…
they remind me of my life…
wrong-fitting, used, bothersome, and thrown- away
over and over and over.
It really sucks to be a sock…
