- Journal Therapy... Volume I (Foster Care, My View)
- Journal Therapy... Volume II (The "R" word)
- Journal Therapy... Volume III (Am I Gay "Because")
- Journal Therapy... Volume IV (Cart before the horse...)
- Journal Therapy... Volume V (Depression, It's not just the blues...)
How I Got Here
It has been said you cannot know where you are going, until you know where you've been... I was four when Mom came to the Miami area to start her life over (I assume). The next year I started kindergarten and she decided to start over again, this time without me. A few weeks after school started we celebrated by going to Disney, We stayed at the resort Saturday night I had two days of fun before coming home Sunday night.
Monday morning mom made me pancakes, she stared at me as I ate them. I didn't try to guess why she was staring until years later. I assume she knew she was leaving and wanted to burn the image into her brain. After breakfast, she walked me to the school bus.
After school I came home on the bus and waited on the steps. She never showed. The nice thing about hitting rock bottom at five, there is no way to go but up. The landlord showed up and let me in the house. He found a note on the table and called the cops.
I got a lot of junk food that night from the officers at the Miami-Dade Police Department, as they gently interviewed me. I know it isn't fashionable but I tend to put a halo over the head of most police officers. Cops have always been good to me, even when I frustrated the hell out of them.
It turned out I knew more about Brandy & Mr. Whiskers then I did about my mom. "Okay son, what is your mother's name?"His partner laughed as I replied, "Mommy." The only thing I remember was how afraid mom was, and that we moved around a lot.
One of the dispatchers was an emergency care-giver. DCF gave her permission to take me home that night. I think her name was Natalie. She tried to make me happy by giving me a stuffed mickey mouse. I wet myself and cried, I hate theme parks and Disney most of all.
I stayed with Natalie's family for a week while the police looked for mom. We found out I wasn't who mother said I was and I couldn't remember our real names.
Then I began my 13 year journey in the foster care system. Some good homes, some average, and quite a few bad. The shortest "homing" was five days (that one was one of the bad ones.) A long stay averaged ten months, then it was on to a new family. I started on-line school in the seventh grade. It was easier than jumping in and out of a new school every year.
That cycle ended when I was 14 and I landed in my LAST foster home. I met Zahir at the end of my sophomore year. His company had transferred him to Miami to watch over their holdings. One of the things they invested in was the ranch my last foster family ran.
In time he was impressed with me. I carried a full HS course load and did the ranch's spreadsheets for foster "Mom" and "Dad." I am a wiz with excel and access, yes I am a math geek.
There was a problem with he and I, the math wasn't right... Z was 26, I was just barely 15. He became the best friend I could ever ask for. I normally kept people at a distance, that way I couldn't be hurt when others would cut ties. He cut right through my barriers, not with money, but with his time.
He coached me through calculus. I thought my brains were going to leak out through my ears. He paid for an accountant to take over the foster fam's books so I could take a few college courses on top of my studies. I didn't realize he was grooming me to look beyond my past and the walls that the past and I built to keep people away.
I finished HS and my first year of college just before I turned 17. Then what I thought was a tragedy at the time occurred. Z was called back to his firms home office in Jordan. I became depressed to the point he asked the foster parents to allow me to go with him. You would be amazed at how easy it is to get a minor OUT of the U.S. without a legal caregiver. We would return occasionally for DCF field visits.
Z gave me what I needed MOST, his time. He gave me my own room to study and sleep in. In addition to my coursework, he gave me household chores. I am not an idiot I knew he wanted a physical relationship, hell I wanted it to. I was just afraid, if I gave him what we wanted he would send me away. Okay, maybe I am a little stupid.
He was so patient, he was my 18th birthday gift. I started interning for him. I am on track to complete my bachelor's degree a year and a half early.
I am looking at my past with new eyes these days. In Arabic, the name Nadir means precious and rare. By cutting me loose at five, my mother opened the world to me. What a gift, thanks mom.
My life is good, my mathematical nadir is far behind me and I am reaching for my zenith.
This year revealed some more bad stuff from my past. I learned I am not just an abandon kid, I am an orphan. Mom saved my life by leaving me behind. Oh, I am back in therapy, but I am coping.
Chase
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