Why does God hate kids? Why me? Who are my parents? Do they love me?
Imagine a child asking those questions. Many foster kids in our society ask these questions. I asked some of these questions. And as I write this, I can see the tears that are dropping on my keyboard. It was never an easy battle, but it was something I would have to live with.
My first memory is of me leaving the Rutledge foster home.This family was the second house I had lived in, but the first family that I actually felt was my family. I ate dinner with them, and I went to “FAMILY” reunions. I was at this house for a good portion of my life, and then I left. That was the first time I asked myself: “Why does God hate me? Why is he taking me away from the people I love? Why can’t I belong somewhere?”
Many of the people who know me will describe me as sociable. But after my kindergarten year, I actually shut people out of my life. I stopped trying to make friends. So for all of my elementary years, I didn’t really talk to people my age because it was always so painful to leave them. I realized that I could not be hurt or cry over what I could never be a part of.
The education of a foster child is so hard to deal with by itself. Foster care has been one of the few things that has made my achievement in school difficult. I remember a time when I went from learning how many days there are in a month to having to teach myself how to multiply fractions. You may think that’s nothing, but I didn’t even know what fractions were or even how to add them. This was a huge struggle to live with throughout my life having to teach myself.
All my life I looked for love. I remember so clearly the feeling I had when I felt like a family loved me. The feeling I got when I thought that this house could be my home. I remember the tears I cried, and the pain I had in my heart when getting ready to leave a home. This is something one could never forget. Something that will be a part of me forever.
Just imagine a sumo wrestler sitting on your heart; that’s how it felt. I say this because I felt as if my world had just ended. I would think of songs and motivational quotes to keep me going. I thank the students at USF St. Petersburg for giving me the chance to share my story and to add on to it, even though this makes me stagger to type each letter with the thought that I failed to satisfy so many families. All of my emotions are flowing back as I relive the memories of being unwanted and neglected. All of the effort I put into becoming part of a family, only to be let down again and again. That was the cycle that I was stuck in.
When I left each house I asked myself, “Was it my fault? What could I have done differently? How can I be better at the next house? How can I be the child that these foster parents, and potentially my future parents, want me to be?”
At the time I really felt like it was my fault, but now I realize that none of these places were where God wanted me to be. And leaving all of those houses gave me a time to think. It gave me time to analyze and become a better person. I thought about what my life might have been at the West’s, the Jones’, the Rutledge’s, the Parker’s and the Upton’s houses. The unsigned documents that would have given me a family all made me wonder how different my life would have been if I were given the chance at a real family. Who would have influenced me? Or who would I have influenced? Some people do not understand that one event can change your whole life and determine how you became the person you are today. I am happy for that one event.
In 1996, after getting into an argument with each other, my father tried to murder my mother. My mother went to a mental hospital, and my father went to prison. I found out later that my mother gave me up to help me.
At 13, my foster parents told me that I was going to be adopted. This turned out to be a lie, another false hope, but it helped me learn about the importance of honesty from the hurt I felt.
Once I lived with a very nice lady who wanted me to stay, but her family didn’t like me because I was black, and told her that it was either them or me. She didn’t feel the same way, but was left with an impossible choice. It was in this house that I learned to love reading, because it became an escape for me.
It was there that I also began to value knowledge and self-worth. Despite what happened, I didn’t think less of myself, in fact this motivated me to become something more than a negative statistic.
I am sociable and optimistic, not because I am faking it, but because I genuinely feel like there is nothing better in life than being a part of a family. I have become this way by living in circumstances that weren’t the happiest, but circumstances that made me better. Also, I have a family now. They are wonderful people, and they are good to me.
I have met many people who have influenced me to be the best that I can be. Some of those people include teachers, my parents, and my mentors. I understand the importance of my actions and how they can impact others. I want to be a force for good.
I finally received my ohana. As they say in Disney’s “Lilo and Stitch”: “Ohana means family and family means nobody gets left behind. Or forgotten.” I can now say that I am not left behind. Every morning I wake up and I know that my last name is Sims, and that they are my family.
