Random Thoughts From Childhood Series-System Malfunction
July 31, 2009
SYSTEM MALFUNCTION
Mat's Memories From Childhood
When I entered Ivy House I felt guilt, fear, anger, loneliness, and emptiness. Not only did I feel abandoned, but I acquired distrust for adults. As a young child viewing everything as very black and white, it was always adults that caused me pain during this time of my life. It was adults that got divorced (my parents), an adult that abused me (mom’s boyfriend), adults removed me from my family, adults placed me in Ivy House, and adults sent me to school which was run by more adults.
To compensate in dealing with these new flush of emotions, my body would react in two distinct ways. These responses were completely involuntary. With my body already saturated with multiple emotions, ( some I had never experienced before), any additional inflow would result in a complete crash. When I had an outburst, it worked something like this. More emotions would flood an already saturated body creating a caustic cocktail. My fail safe, I’ll call it my internal circuit breaker, was to trip which would keep my emotions from overwhelming me. It would instead malfunction and not trip. This would cause my emotions to overwhelm my system resulting in one of my uncontrolled outbursts. However, when dealing with adults something a little different happened. When confronted by an adult or meeting with an adult about my behavior, my emotions would come to a trickle and my circuit breaker would trip, which put my body in a kind of lock down mode. My vocabulary would plummet to about six words; no, yes, I don’t know, and ‘cause. On top of that, a protective barrier would encase me. This turned me into Fort Knox! No adult could touch me! I’ll dub this the “Terminator Syndrome.” With no emotions, how could I get hurt? I usually sat in silence and used a combination of my six words and a shrug to respond to adult questions.
These involuntary responses made me appear crazy and out of control to the outside world. They were not the responses I wanted to project, basically an uncontrollable melt down kept taking over my body. I was screaming inside to get out, but was paralyzed by my body’s response to a perceived danger of the outside world. That in turn, made me at times unable to control my emotions and/or actions. While the outside world was trying to help me and banging to get in, I was inside banging to get out! Only time and persistence from me and the outside world was going to crack this safe…..
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Random Thoughts From Childhood Series-Changes
July 27, 2009
CHANGES
I sit and contemplate my punishment while I finish my lollipop. Maybe yelling at me or throw in some belt whipping, open hand hits, punching, and finish off with throwing me against a wall. Heck, this is what would happen to me before Ivy House, so these are the ones that come to mind. The room door opens up and two adults walk in. One is male and the other female. The lady was holding a file. I recognize the man, but have not seen the lady before. The man takes a seat on the other side of the room and the lady pulls up a chair and sits down while opening the file she is holding. She begins by politely introducing herself and says she is here to help me. The man sits quietly and never says anything, he just observes. The lady starts by asking me “Why did you try to run away?” She had follow up questions like, “Why do you feel that way?” “How does that make you feel?” “What is it that you do not like about school?” and “What can we do to make things easier?” Other than telling her “I did not like school” and in no particular order, my response with any of the questions she asked was “I don’t know,” “Because” and my personal favorite, shrugging of the shoulders. She seemed to take my responses well. She never raised her voice and seemed to be very sincere. Both adults got up and stepped outside the room. I could hear whispering, but could not make out what was being said. The man re-entered the room and asked me to return to my cottage.
Mat's Memories From Childhood
Ivy house was somewhat structured. What I mean by somewhat, is that Ivy House was not a free for all nor was it run with an iron fist. All of the kids were given some type of responsibility. Each of us had to make our beds in morning, keep our rooms picked up, and had to rotate setting and clearing the dining room table for each meal. Providing we did all our chores, every Saturday we would receive a 50 cent allowance. Additionally, on Sunday’s all of Ivy House would load up in vans and go to church as a group. Then after church we would go back to Ivy House and eat as one large group in the office cafeteria. Furthermore, we were allowed to leave the house grounds to go to local parks and corner stores without chaperons. There were also group activities like flag football where we would play the other orphanages. Whenever there was a parade in Philadelphia or a circus came to town we got to go. There was even a time when Coney Island was opened all day for disadvantaged kids and we got to go and spend the day. Everything from food to rides was free. I guess what I’m saying is Ivy House was as family oriented as you could be for us kids that lived there.
So it should’ve not surprised me that they went to the lengths they did to try and help me. After my whole running away fiasco, I finished out that year in public school. I did not know at the time, but that was going to my final year in public school while I was in Ivy House. The start of the second grade I was place into a private catholic school. While everyone else at Ivy House boarded the school bus each morning, an adult had to drive me and pick me up each school day from my new school. Additionally, to help me with my speech impediment, Ivy House sent me to a speech therapist several times a month, which required someone to have to take me and pick me up. Finally, Ivy House brought in a psychologist that I would meet at the office twice a month. Though all these things Ivy House were doing for me did not have an immediate effect, it showed me that they cared!
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Random Thoughts From Childhood Series-I Hate Stupid Questions
July 20, 2009
I Hate Stupid Questions
I am not a fan of the Voltswagon Beetle cars, (stems from foster care) the social workers all seemed to drive this model type car. I feel like it should be referred to as the foster care transport vehicle. Even now as an adult, one sighting can send my thoughts wondering back to memories of my time in foster care. As a child, seeing one at the circus with 10 clowns climbing out of it caused distress and panic.
I think I was 5 years old when I came to understand a very important clue regarding this car showing up at my foster home. It always represented a visit from the social worker. Mine was nice enough, he was a professor looking type man with balding hair, graying mustache and beard and he wore glasses. His visit meant that a sit down with the foster family, me and my little brother would be taking place. I always dreaded these living room sessions. What would follow would be a lot of really silly and unanswerable questions. I call them stupid questions. Below I listed some examples of the type of questions I remember being asked.
As you read the questions, consider the mind of a 4 or 5 year old child. Can you remember being 5 and having the ability to articulate your true feelings? If so, yea for you, as for me, from my 5 year old point of view, I heard; “blah….blah….blah, blah…..blah”.
how do you feel?
“huh? how do I know…what is feel?”
How are things?
“What things? huh, what?”
Are you happy here in this home
“um gulp, eyes darting back and forth, sweating because the parents are staring at me?”
Do you feel that the (let’s call the parents “the Foster’s)” care about you?
“blank stare?”
Do you feel you can come to the Fosters and tell them how you are feeling?
“Again…parents glaring at me”
Would you be happy staying here with the Fosters?”
“I never get to stay, why are you asking stupid question?”
Memories from Jenny's childhood
Back to the Clue
When the social worker would pull up in front of the house with another social worker with him in the car, I knew this meant a home change was taking place. Any other time, during normal visits, he would come alone. Two visitors getting out of that car…this meant that I had about 15 minutes to prepare myself to move to another home. Looking out the window, after seeing the two social workers exit the Beetle, I would immediately pack up my stuff, putting my few belongings in the same bag I had arrived with, and sit with it on the bed and wait. The foster parents seemed to take as long as possible with the social workers in order to avoid the goodbye scene which was usually a dramatic emotional display filled with lots of tears. I would patiently wait in silence for them to make it to my room. I always knew when they were close because I would hear my little brother start to cry, which meant I was next to hear the news. Next my door opens and I see the faces of the foster parents are sad, eyes filled up with tears. I do not shed tears, I feel an odd sense of power, having figured out this clue. It is the only sort of control I can recall having in my life then. The chance to pack by myself and decide how and where I would wait for what was to come was a small but appreciated little moment for me. Quickly, the look on the adult faces changes to one of confusion or shock. I look at them, careful to avoid eye contact, clutch my bag under my arm and rise off the bed. I stand very tall and I keep my eyes focused on the door, I am all about the exit now. I am into the hallway, down the stairs, out the front door and into the Beetle, all while silently reviewing my next move in my head.
The parents are now outside the house and it seems the social workers are trying to console them. I continue to avoid eye contact, I know they are upset and I feel it is my fault so I stare at my feet and fidget in the front seat. The social workers get in the car, the woman social worker puts me on her lap, my brother is crying in the back seat. Now comes the part I dreaded the most. This is the part when the second social worker (the one I didn’t really know ) tries to console me by asking some more stupid questions. She is trying to get me to make eye contact with her, I am not having it! She is saying; “do you feel like it is wrong to cry? You know it is healthy to let it out and cry don’t you? I cross my arms and legs while I continue to look at her with the death stare!
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July 13, 2009
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Random Thoughts From Childhood Series-Running
July 12, 2009
Mat's Memories From Childhood
RUNNING
More school issues: I had a bad habit in class of eating my pencil like a piece of corn on the cob. I really never knew I was doing this until a kid in the class would make fun of me by calling me “Beaver”. I only had this habit while in school. I was razzed for not being able to keep still in my chair. I would rock in my chair and not even know that I was doing this until the other kids would start laughing and pointing at me. It’s obvious that I did not help my cause by bringing this type of attention to myself! Finally, when the report cards were sent home, I was called to the kitchen area in cottage one to discuss my grades. I was told that I had straight “E’s” and that they were very proud of me and started patting me on the back and saying “Way to go!” A brief moment went by and the screaming began. After carefully reading the fine print the house parent realized that “E” did not stand for EXCELLENT, but stood for failing! I hate school……
I started to skip school on a regular basis. As you face the front of the school, there is an open grass area with a pathway that leads to the center with a set of steps that lead you up into the main school building. On each side there is a long wall with thick hedges planted on each side of steps running the length of the building. For almost a week, each day I would get off the bus and skip school by hiding behind these hedge rows. I would enter from the side of the hedge and crawl my way to the center of the row. I would lie against the wall and peer through the branches to see what was going on each day. The days were very long, especially when the temperature was sitting at 35 degrees plus I went without anything to eat. I would use the leaves and cover my feet and legs to get extra warmth. I was finally caught on Friday and simply did not care what would happen to me. I was determined not to return to school……
I woke up early the next morning and put on my cloths and my fastest pair of sneakers. Yeah, that would be my red high top converse “chucks.” I was starting to get nervous about running away and went and talked to a boy down the hall that was the serial runaway. I slipped into his room and shook him lightly to wake him up. He looked up at me and asked “What do you want?” I explained that I was going to run this morning and asked for him to give me tips. He sat up in bed and said “I will do better than that, I’ll go with you.” That was great news! I thanked him and headed to the kitchen to eat my breakfast. All my problems would soon just disappear! After a moment, my partner in crime takes a seat next me and inhales his breakfast. He tells me that we will wait until the other kids head to the bus stop at the front of the office and we would slip out the back door and head for the gate at the back of Ivy House. We finished breakfast and headed to our rooms to get jackets and anything else we might want to take. I decided to take nothing with me, but the cloths on my back. The other kids start to leave for the bus stop and we hang back. I start to get butterflies in my stomach and have a flood of fear come over me. I tell my partner and he says “Stay calm, I’ll get you out of here.” I state that is not what I mean! I’m over come with guilt because we are getting ready to runaway and it suddenly does not feel right to go through with the plan. He assures me everything will be fine. I settle down and prepare myself for the run.
We head out the back door of cottage one and run to get to the back gate. My heart is pounding and my head is racing! We hit the back gate; He goes through first and as I exit the gate, I look back and see a house parent bursting out the door of cottage three! He yells “STOP.” I think “Oh *hit.” We both hang a right out the gate and run along the busy street. I kept peeking back to see were the adult was and he was closing fast. My partner is running much faster than me and suddenly cuts across the busy street. I hear screeching tires and horns blaring. Oh god, I’ve lost sight of him after he crosses the street. My head is racing and I’m scared to death if I get caught, so I run like I’ve never run before. I approach the corner up ahead and see a group of people waiting to catch a bus. I glance back and suddenly someone grabs my arm and says “What is your rush?” Some guy waiting for the bus was the one who grabbed me and held tight as I wrenched to get away. The adult chasing me catches up and grabs my arm and thanks the gentleman for stopping me. My heart was racing and my body is flooded with emotions. Man, I’m going to get the biggest butt kicking of all time, I think to myself. We wait for a moment for the man to catch his breath and as he does this, I notice the expression of fear on his face. Not anger, but fear! What would he be afraid of?
I can tell on are walk back that look of fear turned to a look of relief. He asks me “Why did you try to runaway?” For the first time I actually responded to a question given by an adult and say “I was trying to get away from school.” There is a little more chit chat, but I walk in silence fully expecting a beat down. He takes me to the office and places me in a room to wait. As he leaves, he reaches behind a desk in the room and pulls out a lollipop and hands it to me. I say thank you and try to figure out if this is an act of kindness or is a cruel trap for the next person to come in and take it from me! As I sit and wait, I contemplate the big mistake that I just tried and realized this is one mistake I will never make again. I sit silently sucking my lollipop and thinking of all the terrible things that are probably going to happen to me for being stupid……….
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July Face of a Foster Care Graduate Feature-Thomas Leon Watson
July 6, 2009
Our July feature comes to us from Lithia Springs, Georgia. He is inspirational in many ways, one of which is that he continues to stay in touch with the organization that helped him turn his life around. He speaks openly at charity functions, sharing his story with children who are at risk or already in the system. A child in the system can encounter Foster Care homes, Institutions, and Orphanages. Some children who enter the system will spend time in each and others only one. Thomas did not end up in foster care, his area of the system was an institution, however he is still a graduate of the system and we are honored to share our platform with him. Regardless of which area a child spends time in, the likely emotional traumas and risk for abuse are similar. Please welcome Thomas Leon…….
Name: Thomas Leon Watson
State: Georgia
Occupation: Financial Industry Professional
Marital Status: Married
Favorite source of inspiration: Sharing his story and volunteering his time with charitable organizations
Favorite inspirational book: The Bible-New International Version
Thomas started out like most children-innocent, trusting and full of love
The power of overcoming:
I remember at the age of four years old, my mother decided to move from Virginia to Georgia. My father helped load the truck and my brother, myself and mom got in the truck and left. I remember asking my mother why my father is not coming with us. I started to cry because I did not understand why my father was not going with us. This was the first of many times that I felt abandoned. But as kids do, I went with the flow. I wanted my father to be there to throw the football, shoot the basketball, and hit the baseball with me. The neighborhood that I grew up in there had only one family that had a father figure around and that was my best friend’s father. Nobody else in the projects where I grew up at had a father in their household. I remember the first boyfriend that my mom had. I thought he’s going to become my father, he will teach me football, basketball, baseball and teach me how to be a man… Then I remember that day. Let’s say his name was Mr. J, he picked me up, sat me on the countertop and said that he’s leaving, that he will no longer be around. My eye’s teared up and tears ran down my face. I remember thinking what did I do? Why are you leaving…? Then, he turned his back and left never to return again. As a kid, this did hurt, but I returned back to playing and being a kid. But the scars were there. The same scenario repeated itself at least ten more times. After the fifth boyfriend or so the hurt and disappointment turned into anger, resentment and hatred toward any man that came into our lives. I decided that I would not TRUST anyone. I put a protective shield around my heart and said nobody will ever hurt me again.
This anger and resentment turned into rage and at the age of twelve years old I plotted to murder my mother’s boyfriend, he was emotionally and physically abusive to her. I told my brother to get his attention and I would come from the back of MR B (boyfriend) and stab him from the back thru his heart. As soon as I was about to carry out this act I heard a gunshot in the air and MR B ran off, he got away. The man that shot the gun into the air saw what I was about to do and he messed my plan up… This made me mad. Later I realized that what that neighbor did saved me from life as a criminal and life in jail. The anger, resentment, bitterness, hatred that I had filled up in my heart lead me to be institutionalized at the age of fourteen. Yes, I was placed in a mental hospital and had to take medication. This I did not understand. Why am I here? Why do I have to take medication? I’m an athlete- Why me? I was hospitalized each year as a teenager from 14-18 years old (staying at least 3 months at a time). After being discharged I would have to return to the hospital to get stabilized on medication because I would stop taking it. I stopped taking it because I did not think it was normal. None of my other friends or classmates had to take any kind of medication. Plus, I was an athlete and felt like I could not function taking that medication. It was a challenge going to school every day, to study, focus, concentrate and to just be a normal kid. People around me did not understand what I was going through, especially my closest friends and family. During these years between high school and mental hospital I experienced a lot of rejection, loss friends and broken relationships.
Then in 1987, a young lady met me in the hospital and she connected me with an organization called Chris Kids. This organization has group homes for ages 6-17 and Independent Living Program for ages 17-21(to transitions teenagers and young adults from foster care, treatment facilities or detention into self-sufficient adults). After graduating high school I went to Chris Kids Independent Living Program. This was one of the changes that helped turn my life around. I arrived at Chris Kids at the age of 17 and scared to death. I took an Amtrak train ride from my hometown to Atlanta, Georgia by myself. All I had was a suitcase full of clothes and I remember thinking, “what am I doing leaving the projects where I grew up, my mother, brother and friends?” Then, I remembered that this decision for me to go to Chris Kids was made by my mother, therapist and doctors. My first day at Chris Kids I met my Therapist; she picked me up from the train station. Then took me to the place where I was going to be staying. We drove into an apartment complex and she introduced me to my residential counselor. Then I was taken to the apartment where I would be living. Honestly, it was a nice apartment, fully furnished. Then I was introduced to my roommate and to the other kids that were in the program. Then came the rules: curfews, cleaning, must work 20- 40 hrs week or be in school (college), had to buy my own food and cook for myself. I said this is no group home. This is living on my own. With a lot of rules and supervision. To a 17 year old transitioning from a mental hospital I thought this was a bit too much. But I adjusted. We had group sessions about looking for a job, interviewing, etc. I went on to get a job at Old Country Buffet, and then I started working two jobs at Long John Silver’s and Captain D’s. But I soon would lose job after job because I still carried around the anger, resentment, hatred, and I did not trust people. I would get into fights on the job. Meanwhile, I’m going to therapy, I had to attend sessions if I was going to stay in Chris Kids. This is where the layer of onions began to peel. I began to talk about my childhood and all the feeling that I had. Someone, after all these visits to the mental hospital really took an interest in me and listened. It took years of counseling to work on me. Chris kid’s motto is healing children, strengthening families, and building community. I’m a walking testimony that a child can be healed, and move on to become a productive citizen in society. My relationship with my family was strengthened and I’m now helping to build a community that gives to this great organization that helped save my life.
Before leaving Chris Kids I was introduced to God by a member of the Atlanta Church of Christ (now known as Atlanta Metropolitan Christian Church). Reading the bible and seeing that Jesus died for me and that all the inner pain that I had carried for years: the anger, bitterness, resentment, hatred, and abandonment he carried on the cross and he died for me. Too see that he also died for all those that may have caused me pain whether they knew it or not. This helped me to forgive, heal and move on. Today, I thank God for every part of my life. The good, bad, ugly and sad. I would not be the Man I am today without this or him. I thank God for every person that he put in my life that helped me through these difficult times and you know who you are. I hope and pray that my story can touch and give hope to any person that’s in need of inspiration.
A Transformed man with large and loving heart
I’m proud to say I’m 39 years old and married to an awesome lady named Juliana Watson. I’ve had the opportunity to work for Bellsouth Mobility, AT&T, Prudential Bank, Verizon and presently I work at Hyundai Motor America in their finance department. The major highlight in my life is volunteering at Chris Kids and Hope worldwide. It’s been a blessing to have been given a chance to speak with the kids at Chris kids, corporate donors and volunteers and to share my story. I am not ashamed of my story and where I came from and will tell it to a rock if it will listen. Sharing my story allows me to connect with my passion which brings me great joy. Thank you for listening, please comment and pass our website links to everyone on your e-mail list. You never know who may need inspired.
What is CHRIS kids?
“Our mission is to heal children, strengthen families, and build community. Our core values are Creativity, Honor, Respect, Integrity and Safety: CHRIS.”
“Since 1981, we have delivered a broad continuum of critical services to children, youth and families allowing them to reach their natural potential for happiness, health and success. We offer free residential and summer programs to homeless children and youth and affordable mental health and substance abuse counseling to local families.We believe kids are assets to be developed, not problems to be solved. Our goal is to save kids from slipping through the cracks and help them grow up to be productive citizens.”
To learn more about this amazing organization, please visit www.chriskids.org
What is Hope World Wide?
“HOPE worldwide is an international charity that changes lives by harnessing the compassion and commitment of dedicated staff and volunteers to deliver sustainable, high-impact, community-based services to the poor and needy.”
Hope worldwide: www.hopeww.org
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Random Thoughts From Childhood Series-School of Pain
July 1, 2009
Mat's Memories From Childhood
SCHOOL OF PAIN
Time was not healing my pain or loneliness. I felt like I was stuck in a whirl pool being pulled down with no way of getting out and could not figure out how to communicate to anyone on how I was feeling.
School became my nemesis! I had great difficulty relating to the other kids at school and struggled with class time and assignments. As the school year progressed, the pressure in me kept building and I became a volcano waiting to erupt. I caught the school bus on a cold winter morning, grabbed my seat like I had done a hundred times before. I stare blankly out the bus window as the bus arrived at school. I walked to class and take my seat. As the class begins, the teacher takes out a stack of cards that have pictures on them and we are to tell her what is on the picture. My head is racing and I’m praying that I will get a card that I can pronounce correctly without looking really dumb and embarrassing myself. Each student pronounces his or her word. Sail boat, Airplane, Car, Building….. Then it’s my turn and my chest feels very tight. The teacher pulls a card and asks me to tell her what I see on the card. I freeze, I’m completely griped with fear and my chest becomes even tighter. Out of all the possible cards, I get one of the words that I cannot pronounce. The picture is of a TRUCK. I can’t pronounce the TR and always replace it with an F. The teacher calls me to the front of the class and asks again for me to tell the class what I see. I state that “I cannot because it’s a bad word.” The teacher pushes me further until I blurt out *UCK! The class first gasps then laughs at me. The teacher has fire in her eyes and sends me to the principal’s office.
The principal calls Ivy House and talks to an adult. The conversation lasts about five minutes. The principal hangs up the phone and asks me to come into his office. I take a seat in front of his desk and I’m asked to explain myself. Like I’ve done countless times before, I shrug my shoulders while looking at the ground. I’m told that I will not be riding the bus home, but instead was being picked up by someone from Ivy House. I’m picked up and sit in silence as we drive back to Ivy House. Once again, I’m lectured on my behavior, but the sound I hear is simply like listening to the Charlie Brown phone. I go to bed that evening vowing to never go to school again.
That night I’m very restless and keep going over the events in school in my head. Then my mind drifts off to my mom. What if I did not try to help her at the top of the stairs! Would all of this be happening? Is she alive? Is she looking for us? Will my brother and I ever get to go home? My mind drifts back to dealing with school. I’m simply a drop of blood in a sea of sharks at school and I’m determined to put an end to this problem. I think of solutions to my problem and just keep coming back to my only way out. That’s it; I’m going to RUN and get as far away as possible from this pain and suffering! I just know this will fix everything, it has too! I rest in my cleverness and fall off to sleep…….
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