Part 2 of my story with a long way to go

I have always loved art, it always reminded me of my mom. After DCF removed us in 96′, i held on to any memory that was good about our family, about the rare occasions when we where a  family. Me and my mother where always close, she called me her best friend honestly my entire life. It didn’t matter what was going on and how many times they told us to stay in our room, i knew she let me stay out in area where the adults were, drinking a way like everyday was New Years Eve. She wasn’t a good Mother, but i know she loved us. She was selfish and a addict, she had a painful past and no relationship with God. Which created the ” self medicating”. No matter where DCF sent me from 11-16 years old they could not keep me from my mom. I would runaway, steal cars, scream through neighborhood hangouts, bars. one time i even asked the police and guess what they knew! Bob Pelagano, my DCF worker ( child protective services ) will tell you himself, i was the worst on his case load. It got so bad he completely took her visits away, i was 15 then. So she met me at a YMCA i was volunteering at so wasted, i didn’t want to go with her, at this point i could see things differently. How is it a child could find a parent anywhere in a state, wasted most of the time, but someone who loves me so much couldn’t even try to get me out of the hell hole i thought the group home was at the time. So she left to North Carolina.I stayed in Connecticut. I hated everyone and everything at that point in my life. I was consumed with a darkness that honest to God the Therapist i was seeing at that point deemed me incurable that there was no way to help someone like me so she fired me.

About two months later i ran away again,to be honest i don’t know why. The group home was beautiful, the man who owned it was also raised in DCF and built it and designed it for kids like us. Oh i can remember small details of the house. It was a very large almost Victorian style home when you walked in the foyer to your right with a beautiful stone fire place. With European style furniture. Right in front of the door were the stairs if you where to walk up them it would take you straight to our book nook or library and you could reach the bedrooms that way, similar i imagine to aboarding home only with the exact style of a real home. Which i am sure was the point. So why did i leave that cold march night, i don’t know, i am sure being a runner my entire life had something to do with the fact i had moved every 2 to 4 months since i was born. The Wolcotte police found me shivering on the side of the highway, trapped in the last blizzard of the season. They brought me into the station. They called The Becan House my group home, Ms. Nancy answered and iminetly said ” She has ran away too many times, she cannot come back here, and can you please send an officer here to get her medication if she doesn’t take it she  could have phycotic episode” I hated that bitch, and she hated me. My therapist had already said it was ok to stop that night time pill it made sleep walk and extremely tired all the time, my grades were really bad because of it. She knew that, The rage inside me built up as i began to scream not realizing now i just made her look right.  About 20 minutes later here comes the office to give me my pills

” Don’t make this get ugly” he says, as he hands me cup full of shit i didn’t want to take. I take it. Once i am calm the pull me out of the holding tank. I am dizzy, i hate these stupid pills. ” Jessica the blizzard is coming you cannot stay at the police station, i have been calling your DCF worker, The Social Services everything is shut down. We need to leave or we will get trapped in here too. Is there anywhere you have to go?” The officer looked at me with the look of worry.  Anywhere for me? Who do i have i burned all those bridges, no friends, no family. Then i reply ” You can call my Mom, well my foster mom, Maureen, i don’t know if she will come but she is the only person i know .” the look in that mans face, as an adult now i can’t imagine the heart ache he felt for that little unloved unknown fifteen year old child, I am sure today he thought Ms. bitch Nancy was just that. I fell asleep in the chair and woke up to the officer carrying me to mom’s car. She came, she always came, I know i didn’t show it then but i loved her so much. So dependable so kind. I wish i knew then what i know now and i could of truly given her the love i had for her in my heart, but i pushed inside and the only person who got to really see it was Tanya my older sister, she was about 5 or 7 months pregnant with her first child. She lived with mom still. I walked up the stairs to the bedrooms, the same framiar stairs i had walked up since age 6. I climbed in bed with my sister and put my arm around her the same way we use to sleep in our unheated houses as small children, God forbid we used any heat. She grabbed my hand knew it was me. “Are you ok ?”she said softly? ” ya i guess” i reply, ”   “i am moving in with Renato soon” Bob approved it, Renato was her boyfriend the only person in this world she loved as much as me.

My heart sink into my stomach, and in the pain the tears silently fell and i went to sleep.

Tooo be continued

Author: grace2fight

on the journey of healing

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