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 never 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

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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 …

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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

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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.

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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.