I was in the foster system so I thought I'd give you all a little insight into what really happens there. First off I'll give you my story... I was taken into the foster system by choice from my mother who was an abusive, possibly schitzophrenic alcoholic. The first place I arrived was Polinsky Children's Center. ( http://www.wic.org/orgs/polinsky.htm ) Its a high security group home. They bring you in, make you wait for a while, take a mugshot picture, (quite literally a mugshot) then take you to your cabin. When i first arrived, i was scared to death. I was placed in one of the houses at the group home for teen girls. There, the girls were extremely violent, some just plain psycho. If you yelled, were loud, or generally out of line, you were restrained, and sometimes forced medication. Luckily I kept quiet so this didn't happen to me. if you tried to run away (called AWOL in the foster system), you could also be restrained. This restraining was very violent and would result in bruises and cuts and injuries usually because one teenage girl would have five adults chocking her down to the ground if she refused her medication. At Polinsky they have an oh-so convient clinic on the grounds. There I was given various shots and a full cavity search, including an inventory of any markings, scars, noticable features on my body so they could identify me should I escape. Google Earth the place, and you'll see that the entire property is blocked off with 12-foot high walls and barbed wire. Visiting family or friends was a privledge. If you got in any trouble, no seeing your family. We were all required to carry around point cards where we were marked off if we misbehaved. While there I met various interesting individuals, both bad and good. For example, a 13 year old girl, 9 months pregant, convinced she would become mother of the year. One of the good people I met was someone ironically a meth/crack/ acid addict who was known to commonly AWOL. She was actually a very intelligent, bright, beautiful young girl named Star. We were walked to school (also on the grounds), to lunch, etc. in groups of three at a time, with a staff behind and in front, as if we were prisoners. That's what this place was; a prison. Kids were brought in and treated as if they were criminals. Two weeks later I moved to Casa De Amparo ( http://www.casadeamparo.org/ ), an all girls group home. Actually, it really was a hallway with some bedrooms and a kitchen. There, you couldn't be restrained, thank goodness, but that's when i realized that foster kids were guinea pigs for psychiatrists. Everyone was required to meet with doctors, psychiatrists, psychologists, etc. and if deemed appropriate, put on meds. This was never a choice. This place too, was a prison. You were allowed very little contact with the outside world, outside of contacts deemed appropriate by your social worker. If you wanted to see anybody; family, even friends, they had to go through a full background check and usually weeks of paperwork. And even then, if the psychiatrists and staff deemed that you weren't ready to see friends or family (like if you refused medication), you couldn't. On the rare occasions that we went on outings, we weren't allowed to talk to anybody. Not even cashiers, etc. I made the mistake one day of asking someone if they had change for a dollar, and I was quickly whisked away and punished for making contact with someone not approved. Later I was moved to San Pasqual Academy ( http://www.sanpasqualacademy.org/ ), a group home / high school. Relatively low security, lower than even Casa De Amparo, but still this place had its perils. once again, the care takers and doctors were very pill happy. By this time I was on various mind numbing "medications" for anxiety and PTSD, which left me tired, numb, and lifeless; what the staff noted as "obedient and well-behaved". Once again, if someone refused their meds, usually all other privledges were taken away as well. Though the place advertises freedom and independence, this was usually a facade and not the case at all. Rooms were often searched by drug dogs, and privacy was unheard of. I eventually moved up into a transitional living program ( http://www.sanpasqualacademy.org/alumni.htm ) which wasn't much better. it was advertised to us as "the only way" we could make it. Rent was cheap, but our income and spending was strictly monitored and controlled. Once again, we were strictly controlled by the pill doctors, only this time if we refused, we were subject to being kicked out of the program; kicked out on the street. Luckily, that was a few months ago, and since then I am doing a lot better. I ran away, escaped to another state, and I'm now living independently and happily. I'm free to do what i want, live how I want. I offer you all this story as a glimpse into the foster system, so that people may understand just what happens. I'm lucky I never went into a foster home with foster parents, for I've head much worse stories about those. I've always wanted to tell this story of my life, but I've never had the courage or the audience. Thank you for taking your time to read this.
good effort for getting thru it, im not sure that everyone would. make sure u make up for your lost time and party on in freedom!!!
no court hearing... they asked my mom for permission (the custody dispute of whether or not she would keep me was still going on), of course she didn't care. They basically took my picture, took down my information, gave me shots and various medications, and sent me on my way... The medications really screwed with my life; I couldn't focus in school (my grades were great; they plummeted with the meds), I couldn't paint, i had no creativity in me. I was a zombie. of course, all of this was observed by the staff as "progress".
damn thats sad and fucked up. i think id of had to of tried to kill one of the doctors or whoever restrained you. prison would probably be better then them shitholes. but its good to know your good after that experience.
That's horrible. I'm glad to hear that you made it through those shitholes though. I read a memoir called A Piece Of Cake about a lady named Cupcake (her actual name) and her life in foster/group homes and what a hell they were. She repeatedly ran away from them but somehow always ended back there and would get beat for running away. It chronicled her "childhood" in those homes to the later years in her life where her drug use escalated far out of control.
In the foster system, running away is officially called AWOL. Usually when you AWOL and they catch you, you're usually put in a sort of "solitary confinement".
I think it's amazing that you left with your sanity in tact. IF I were in one of those places and they treated me that way I'd probably snap eventually.
BNP, I had no idea that was your story. I'm actually writing a novel about a girl who escaped the foster system so it's good that I read that. What I can't understand is why they had you all on medications. You were in foster care, not a mental hospital. That's crazy! I'm glad you're out of that now.
i always took pride in that i never snapped... in the 4 + years I was there, I snapped maybe once or twice; since I was somewhat quiet, my version of "snapping" was just getting pissed off and ranting at everyone
