Archive for December, 2011

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.

sockssuck

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 bothersomeWho 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…

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December 29, 2011 at 12:23 am 23 comments

it may be JUST a “comforter” to you…

Yesterday I got my very FIRST brand new “comforter.”  Yeah.  I don’t have a bed but I can use it to wrap up in on my futon or the floor.  It’s all MINE.  For the first time in years I got to pick out a big fluffy, silky, soft, funny, comforter that reflects ME.

You probably take your comforter for granted.  You probably have owned several comforters.

Not me.     Nope.

Living with my parents, my bedding was “whatever was laying around.”  Sometimes it was a blanket, sometimes just a sheet, sometimes a tee-shirt, and sometimes nothing at all.  They did not care and I never mattered enough to be kept warm and comfortable.

.

In foster care, I used what was laying around, too.  I used what lots of other kids used.  I used the colors or pictures that someone else picked out.  I used ones that had stains, frayed ends, or were tattered.  I used ones that other kids cried on.  I used ones that other kids drooled on.  I used ones that other kids peed or pooped or puked on.  I used ones that …. whatever other kids did on them.  Each of those kids left their story on those comforters… and many times the comforters looked like wars had been fought as children slept or screamed the night away.

“Comforters” that were never mine, but a true reflection of how I felt…  old, used, ugly, dirty, not special, not worth the $20 to give me a clean start.

Once on the streets I used a “comforter” that I found under a bridge.  It was so disgusting … but I was freezing.  I drank a bottle of nighttrane so that the dirt and stains and smell drifted away, as I wrapped myself up with another street kid.  “Comforter” that wasn’t mine, but yet another reflection of how I felt …  dirty, used, smelly, disgusting, thrown away…

Yesterday, I stood in <store name> feeling so excited as I looked at all the comforters that lined the shelves.  Holy shit!  Tons of comforters…. for all ages.  Holy shit!  Tons of comforters… all colors.  Holy shit!  Tons of comforters…. superheros and spongebob and animals and peace signs and flowers and “mature” ones and… and….

Holy shit!  How do I choose?

I am sure people watched as I focused myself on comforters that … weren’t mature, weren’t adult, and weren’t what people my age would pick.  It wasn’t girly, it didn’t match anything I owned, and well…. it probably belongs in a 9-year old’s world….

BUT……..

I got a BRAND NEW comforter… for the first time in my life ….

It has no battle scars and it has survived no wars… it’s just a comforter…

…and it’s MINE.

ok… well…. OURS!

December 20, 2011 at 11:31 pm 33 comments

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