Repost Digging up bones

Monday, January 04, 2010

Digging up bones.



I had my foster parent’s send me a friend request on facebook.

I am floored.

I never expected that.

Mr. & Mrs. Vaughn. I don't think I ever called them anything else. Mr. Vaughn was one of the directors of the Children's home that I grew up in. They were good people and gave me a glimpse of what a real family should be like.

I think I was in 7th grade, so 12 or 13 yrs old. I was best friends with their daughter Lesli. She was so pretty and so smart! We ended up competing in everything we did. That is why I ended up going back to the Home. It just didn’t work out. I can’t remember how long I stayed with them? They did end up adopting 3 boys from the home. Just really good people.

It is hard to look back. I see so many missed opportunities and chances. I can "if only" myself to DEATH! I try to sort things out. It would help if I could remember correctly! My coping skill as a kid was to forget things, as fast as I could. Literally forget them. I was assaulted as a child and forgot that until I was reminded by a well meaning family member. The bad thing about the ‘forgetting strategy" is that all of the hurt is still there and affects you, you just don’t know why you are afraid. (I missed out on lots of things because I was afraid!)

So now I am ruthless about digging into any hurt or imagined hurt and try to pull it all apart. This can be a slow process. It took me years to remember most of the childhood assault. I would get bits and pieces at a time. How I was tricked in to going inside.... The dirty dishes on the table..... The alcohol that was spilled in the plate...... I remember some of the things done to me, but I don’t think I remember it all. I remember having to testify in court and how terrified I was!! (Funny how I took a job that would require me to testify in court. Hmmm?)

I look back at what I can remember now as an adult. I struggle with the feelings and expectations I had as a child. I understand when the hurt comes from a childish longing and can put it aside. I do mourn a little for the child’s hurt. But a few tears usually take care of it. Wash it out and leave room for nicer things!

I was a young teenager when that "well meaning" family member reminded me. The best way I can describe it is that it felt like a very large person picked me up and slammed me into a wall! I remember having problems catching my breath. The look on my face must have told them that I was shocked.

As an adult I try to keep in mind that anything that I say can cause hurt.

Even if that is not the intention.

I should explain that while I was a Ward of the State, and lived in a Children’s Home, my Grandmother would pick up my brother, sister and myself on some weekends. We would stay Fri and Sat night then go back Sun afternoon. That is how the "well meaning" family members were able to bless us with their wisdom.

See how a simple friend request got my brain working. It happens to me a lot. I do believe that I over think things......

Putting my feelings, any of them, down on "paper" used to be painful. Now I find it helps me sort them out. It started when I tried to write down some of my experiences from the Home. At first I thought I would give it to a lady that was writing a book about the Home.

It was bad at the Home but it could have been worse if I had not gone there. I know that for sure!

Not everyone that worked at the Home was good. But some where very good. When I talked to the book lady a bit more through emails I noticed that she was only interested in the negative stuff. I decided that I did not want to be a part of something that would paint everything at the Home as bad.

I did get something good from the book lady. She had a register on her web page and I was able to reconnect with a few of the kids that were at the home with me. It is amazing to talk to them. I haven’t had the courage to call all of them yet but I do talk to them online some. Some have done better than others. I love hearing them talk about what they have done with their lives. Most of us kids that were at the Home where there because our Parents screwed up.

Not us, our parents!

So now I am trying to dig up the good bones from Mr. & Mrs. Vaughn. I do remember Mrs. Vaughn fed me frozen corn for the 1st time. I still love it! I won’t bore you with my nice list. But I am finding that the nice memories can make me shed a few tears too. Poke, poke poke at them bones........