The day we finally got taken from our parents, how it all happened

August 22, 2012 at 5:51 am Leave a comment

The social workers came. We didnt know who they were. We thought they were friends of our parents. I let them in. I talked to strangers, I broke the rules. The rules were no talking to anyone I didnt know, and I broke them. I was bad. When our mom returned the social worker asked her some questions. Where was she, what was she doing, and why did she leave us home alone? She lied, all lies when she answered. I prepared for the trouble that would come when the social worker left. But she never left. Instead she got on her phone. All of a sudden the house was full of people, police, more social workers, just full. They all just arrived. Our mom made a huge scene. “You cant take my babies”, she kept saying, “Please dont take my beautiful kids”. Those words ripped through me, she hated us, why was she saying these things? Why, when she didnt love us? The social workers told us me and my siblings to go outside and get in the car. All my siblings were screaming, but I wasnt. I went down the steps and I never looked back. I just kept walking. While everyone else cried, begged not to leave, clung to our mom. But we had to leave. We all got into the cars, my five other siblings and I. We went to the hospital and we were all examined. I spent a few days there. Then we were all split up. All sent to separate foster homes. The two youngest stayed together. . I remember seeing all of my siblings leave for their new homes, seeing them and wondering, but I was so locked within myself, that I didn’t react to their presence. Just standing there, maybe I said “Hi”, I don’t know. I had to sever the connection to them, because they were my siblings, and I loved them, but I also knew I’d failed them. I didnt do what I was supposed to do, keep the silence. . I severed the connection to all my siblings. I existed with them, I didn’t live with them. I just stopped living altogether.

It sounds cold, heartless, selfish, I know. I wish I had been stronger, but I am just a kid too . I was the oldest of us all, and they looked up to me for strength, but I was so dead inside. Oddly enough, they still look to me when something different happens, something good, something bad, anything. They all look to me for…what? I don’t know. Perhaps they see my detachment as strength, but it isnt. It is merely survival.



Entry filed under: Abuse, Bio family, Biological family, Family, Flashbacks, Foster care, Foster child, Foster family, Foster mom, Foster parents, Fostering, Host, Host post, Memories, Parental abuse, Trauma. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , .

I’m wide awake Finally got some sleep

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