Inward Inventory

I've taken a wee break as I had a rough month in March, and then I was able to travel to visit family this month. 

It seems that the death of anyone you know, whether a family member, a co-worker, a friend, even people you only knew in passing...death in and of itself makes you pause and think.   I've been doing a lot of thinking and inward inventory.  I want so much to better my life, be a better person, teach my children compassion and humility.  I want so much to be the mother that I always yearned for and put a smile on my boys' faces whenever they think of me.

Most of all, I want so badly to be sure that when the day comes that I let out my last breath, I want to have lived a full life.  I want to have a family who is proud of me, and sons that have their hearts filled with loving memories of me.  I want my life not to go unnoticed.  I want to have made a difference and be remembered as someone who touched hearts.

The deepest reason for my pause is because I know death will happen for me one day.   Knowing that I have no way of choosing how or when, is a sobering thought.  Especially when someone I once loved as a mother passes away at a young age.  Even more so when that person died in a way that she never wanted to, leaving behind a son and a daughter who are wrestling with so much sadness.  It makes me pray that I never lose grasp of my blessings.  I pray hard that even though depression and addiction run so strongly in my family, that I will not succumb to either of those afflictions.  It is scary as I am left wondering, how did she get there, and could that happen to me?

Right now the answer to the first question will always be a mystery, but the answer to the second is it could, but it won't.  I won't let it.  I am fortunate enough to have my eyes wide open to the issues in our family and I am not afraid to seek help when I feel down or talk about my problems.  I have been lucky enough to escape any form of addiction.  I think my time in foster care has helped me to adapt to hardships in life as an adult, perhaps a little easier than someone who hasn't been faced with such hardships.  I tend to keep my glass half full as I know being pessimistic will only bring me down, hard.  I am well aware of my blessings, no matter how hard things may become, and my blessings are what keep me going each day. 

I've had a lot of loss over the past 8 years and I've learned that I have to let myself draw inward to grieve, to grasp and to be grateful. 

On another note, I am hoping to get my tabs up and running.  If you haven't noticed, you can click the pillows in the header and be taken to each page.  I am working on those pages (and on getting them not to open in a new window...grrr) and I've uploaded some photos on my photography page.  Next I'll be working on my "About" page.  Small changes to make my blog a bit more user friendly, so please pardon the dust around here! 

I'm praying the phrase "April showers brings May flowers..." rings true because it's still cold and wet and dreary here in Wisconsin.  Hoping to finally get some sunshine in the coming days!

Easter Lily

Easter Lily

Bursting through it's pod, a blossom is born. 

Her vibrance cannot be ignored.

She brings happiness, comfort and peace.

Her fragrance is alluring.

She brightens up the darkest of rooms.

She breathes new life into the coldest of spaces.

Time is her cruelest enemy.

The delicate blossom withers under the heavy weight of moments passed.

She longs to shine, but her radiance is a distant memory.

She curls around her center, enfolding her precious cargo as her world goes dark.

Her petals crumble to pieces as the breeze scatters her into the earth.

Time, though a cruel enemy, he is also a great teacher.

Those who listen to his lessons know not to take him for granted.

With time, all things heal. All things renew.

Time gives, but some forget that time also takes.

It is when time takes, that the heart is most receptive to how precious time is.

Bursting through it's pod, a blossom is born...

-Tamara Dawn

 

*The above photo and poem are my property and cannot be republished without my permission.*

Vegas, Baby.

It has been a while since I posted.  My heart has been with my cousins who lost their mother, my only maternal Aunt.  It is a difficult death as she died too young, and this was a result of alcoholism, which is a devastating addiction.   


I had already had plans in place to visit my cousins, in Las Vegas as one is getting married this weekend.  So even though it is a difficult time, it is also a time to heal and a time to celebrate.  When you have such a loss, you are reminded of how precious and fragile life is.  It is a time to be thankful for each blessed breath.


I have so much to say.  I hope you stick around to hear more.  Until then, I'll be in Vegas betting on red, because everyone bets on black and I like going against the flow.

Hindsight

This is the parking lot where it all began, and where it ended. The day I left Hillcrest for the last time. Pictured in the photo is my friend, Jana, a staff member there.

I know I am sharing bits and pieces with you and they are not necessarily in order. I'm not a very organized person, and when I write, I share what is on my heart at the moment.

The name Seventeen Pillows symbolizes my placements while in foster care. As I get older I tend to lose grasp on exact moments in time and a couple of days ago I was in the shower (it's where I do my best thinking) and I tried to recall the exact 17 placements I had. I ran down the list from the depths of my memory and I couldn't recall a few of my placements, or the order of some. This bothered me enough to dig out my big stack of records and meticulously comb through them so I could correctly document the timeline I posted previously.

I have read through my files over a handful of times in the past and each time I read them, I take away something new.

As my eyes soaked in page after page, something became painfully obvious. I had people in my corner all along. People that were very much a part of my life, who fought desperately to save me from being institutionalized.

I had no idea how close I came to being placed in a 24 hour residential treatment facility...permanently. I was deemed "unadoptable" after the age of 8 due to "behavior problems" and severe mental and physical issues like "schizophrenia" and "soft brain damage." I screamed a lot, especially at night. It freaked people out. What they didn't do was try and investigate why I screamed. Maybe if they did that, they would see why I was so paranoid, scared, and angry.

As a last resort, the courts placed me in a long term foster home. This was Agnese's home. We had our ups and downs, but Agnese was a tough cookie and the things I dealt her she had seen before, so she managed to live under the same roof with me longer than others before her. I will dedicate much more time to Agnese, as she is someone who I feared, mocked, and regularly disobeyed. She was also someone I loved. I didn't know it at the time, but Agnese's home became my childhood home. It is the home I recall growing up in. She is the woman I recall teaching me and raising me as best as she could. When no one else wanted me, she would always open her arms and her home to me no matter how bad things were when I left her home previously.

Through my young, ignorant perspective, Agnese was one of them. Those people who were out to get me. She only took me back because she wanted the money. She only wanted me in her home so she could scream at me and make me do chores. She was a mean old bag and I only went there because I knew I could. She used to tell me all the time I needed to shape up or I'd end up in a mental hospital. I thought she was full of it...turns out she was telling me the truth.

What I didn't know at the time was how much I trusted her. How safe I felt being in her care. Her home was my home. I loved her cooking. I loved having dinner, all of us at the table together. Agnese provided me a sense of security I had never had before. By allowing me into her home, through the thick and the thin, she gave me something I wish I had treasured more at the time, she gave me a family.

In the court documents, I see the ups and downs we had. Some reports say I was doing very well, and others say that I am out of control. We had a tumultuous relationship. I was the main offender. I used to think she exaggerated how difficult I was because I never perceived myself that way. I had always felt I had a pretty damn good excuse for my behavior. Now that I am raising a teenage son, I have to say that I completely understand Agnese's pain and suffering. I am being gifted my awful behavior tenfold through my son, and he has had a life filled with love, and family and a solid foundation. I can't help but think that the late Agnese is up in Heaven laughing hysterically at me as I plead with God to please help me get through to my teen once and for all...

One thing about Agnese is crystal clear in these documents. Without her, I would not be where I am at today. She opened her home to me, even though I was not exactly fun to live with, because she knew that if she didn't, my life would have been destroyed. She saw something in me, enough to believe that I didn't belong in those places. She saved me.

Agnese wasn't the only one advocating for me. My social worker really struggled and fought with the courts to keep me out of residential care. With each placement she made sure to bring up the good points even in bad situations. My grades were better than they were in a long time, my therapist has seen some improvements, placing me in institutionalized care would only cause me to spiral out of control. She frantically scraped the barrel to make sure I had an alternative placement before heading to court so they wouldn't lock me up and throw away the key.

I recall on numerous occasions, how my social worker, Diane, would plead with me to please try and get along with my foster family. I remember looking into her eyes and seeing such emotion in them. I was so stupid back then. I looked at everyone, including my social worker as people who didn't care about me. I simply felt she was doing her job. The couple of visits I had each year with her were part of her job. Otherwise she only came when I was in trouble. She was the person who had to fix it for me. I knew she was very busy and had a lot of other kids like me to work with. It really didn't dawn on me, how much she cared about me. One constant on each court document can't be denied. My social worker played a crucial role in protecting me and ensuring my future.

Shortly after I reunited with my family, I started to write my autobiography. I had a considerable amount completed, when something told me to put the brakes on my project. When my grandpa asked me about my book, I told him that 18 was too young to write a book (do you hear that, Justin Bieber?) and I wanted to wait until I was an adult, maybe after I had kids of my own. That was a very smart move, if I say so myself.

Back then, I looked upon Agnese with distaste. I didn't treasure her for the amazingly unique and generous person she was. I would not have honored her in the way she deserved.

Long ago, I decided to stop looking at myself as a victim. This was a huge step for me because all my life I had been a victim. Somewhere along the way I came across something that said that victims tend to be victimized repeatedly throughout their lives because people who victimize others prefer victims because they are weak. They know the signs to look for and they seek out victims by identifying these signs. I recall the paper said something about not looking people in the eye, and walking with your head down. There were physical signs, but a section focused on emotional ones as well. The main thing was to stop calling yourself a victim. I worked very hard on erasing the victim from within myself. I never ever wanted to be someones victim again, so this meant a lot to me. I thought I did a pretty good job until just the other day...

I realize that even though I had successfully erased being a victim outwardly, and healed the victim inwardly, I forgot to look at the people in my past with a victim free perspective. I still perceived Agnese and Diane through a victim's eyes.

Looks like I have a little more work to do internally.

In the meantime I want to say a huge heartfelt thanks to all the hard working, dedicated social workers and foster parents out there. I know most times you feel under appreciated, and I want you to know that you are touching these lives in ways that you may never understand, but in doing so, you are changing lives for the better. Thank you for all you do. I appreciate you.

Timeline

Timeline:

1-23-1979 - Found walking alone on a sidewalk. Taken to Hillcrest Receiving Home by police. Eventually released back to my mother.

7-19-1979 - Mother incarcerated, taken back to Hillcrest Receiving Home. Released back to mother.

10-17-1979 - Mother abandoned me in Hillcrest parking lot. I was 3 years old. Pillow 1

Exact date TBD - Entered my first foster home placement (Janet) Pillow 2

9-4-1981 - Adopted Pillow 3

10-7-1983 - Adoption relinquished due to poor bonding and behavior issues

Date TBD - Assessed at County Mental Health for 30+ days Pillow 4

Date TBD - Entered New Alternatives Rainbow House (Group Home) Pillow 5

11-28-1984 - Placed in foster home (Agnese) Pillow 6

2-11-1988 - Placed in foster home (Elaine) Pillow 7

9-1-1988 - Back to Hillcrest Pillow 8

Date TBD - Emergency foster care placement Pillow 9

10-13-1988 - Foster home (Agnese) takes me back Pillow 10

2-2-1990 - Placed in Casa de Amparo a juvenile facility Pillow 11

5-10-1990 - Placed in foster home (Maria) Pillow 12

11-13-1990 - Placed in foster home (Joan) Pillow 13

Fall 1992 - Placed in foster home (Sherry) Pillow 14

Date TBD - Back to Hillcrest Pillow 15

Found my family via letter to adoption reunion in April 1993.

5-1993 - Foster home (Agnese) takes me back Pillow 16

July 1993 - Maternal Grandfather files for legal guardianship of me and becomes my legal guardian. I am 17 years old. Pillow 17 - Home at last.

* Some placements were not included in this timeline such as temporary foster placements (less than a week) and the brief times I spent in a foster home before my mother abandoned me.