Too long in the system

A. Freeman

Sometimes it seems like I’ve been involved in the system all my life but, like my therapist was telling me the other day, it hasn’t even been half of it. But, you know, sometimes what’s real, and what reality feels like, aren’t always the same. I tried to point that out to her but she just laughed and said I’m just trying to rationalize my “victim stance" and that I should look at reality the way other people do. All I could say was, “Maybe. Maybe not." I hate it when she talks like that. It makes me feel like I’m a little kid again–except I wouldn’t have known what she meant then.

Lately I’ve been thinking about when I first came to the group home. That’s why we were talking about it. God, my life was a mess!

I hadn’t finished school; I’d been arrested and locked up; all the “significant others" in my life had given up on me and I pretended that I didn’t care. I was doing drugs with what some people considered alarming frequency. What can I tell you? For them “alarming frequency" was anything more than once. Me, I figured I was doing barely enough. After all, if you’d lived the life I did, you’d consider what I was doing barely enough too.

How about this: kicked out of school with the message you couldn’t return until a psychiatrist certified you safe“Or at least rational; raised by an alcoholic father whose idea of expressing his feelings was to give his kids a kick in the ass when they did something he didn’t like; a brother whose idea of a good time was seeing how close he could come to killing himself without actually succeeding; and a teacher who got his thrills from taking you into the back room and stroking your thighs while he lashed down on your hands with a razor strap. Who was the jackass punishing, anyway? And everyone wondered why I thought school sucked. No wonder I was a mess. That’s the kind of stuff that stays with you forever.

I remember the first few months in the program. I didn’t have a clue what was going on. I basically did what I was told to do, within reason. I mean, some of the things people thought I should do were just plain stupid. Only a lunatic would have followed their advice and, fortunately, I wasn’t quite ready for the loony-bin at that point–although I’m sure that there are some other people who would have a different opinion. As a matter of fact, I remember how they tried to have me placed in a nut house once, but that’s another story. But, really, it was just all part of the bullshit.

After a while I sort of settled in; basically behaving the same as everyone else did as long as it didn’t mean compromising something of importance to me (God! I’ve sure learned to talk better since I got involved in the system). I mean, we all have certain things that are important to us and there’s no way we’re going to give them up. Right? Like, I remember when some of the staff suggested that I should start to dress differently (read, more conventionally) so that people wouldn’t be put off by my appearance. Give me a break! If people are so hung up on appearance that they get turned off by how you’re dressed they should go visit a therapist themselves. And this was during a time when I was doing okay. I mean, things were starting to go okay for me. I figure that they just couldn’t handle it that I was doing alright and they needed something to pick on. That’s what I think, anyway.

Sometimes people are like that, you know. They get used to you messing up and they like it that way. As long as you’re messing up they got someone to pick on and that way nobody looks at them and what they’re doing. Then when you start doing better, they get worried because if you’re doing okay, people might start to wonder about them and what they’re doing. So they try to keep you down. Or maybe they just get so used to picking on you that even when you start to do good they can’t see it. It’s like they’re blind to your improvements. I guess you can’t blame them but you don’t have to like it.

So, like I was saying, when I first started out here, my life was really a mess. But, over time, things improved. Like I finished school. Okay, so maybe it’s not a big deal to you; but for me it was. After all, I grew up in a family where nobody finished school. “Go as far as you can and then get a job in a warehouse." That was my family motto. My old man never finished school. Neither had anyone else. Get a job. Get married. Have kids. Buy a house. Die young, etc., etc. That’s just the way it was supposed to be. So when I set out to finish school and everyone was saying “that’s a good idea" like it was a normal thing, they had no idea. But I did it anyway. Not because of them, but because I decided it was something I wanted to do. So now I don’t have to work in a warehouse–but I can if I want to. That’s the difference. And it’s a big one.

That’s something I learned from my mother, and nobody ever gave her enough credit for it. “Improve yourself" was something she always tried to teach us kids and for some reason, years after I first got involved with the system, I learned that she had some good advice. And, I didn’t learn it because anyone said to me to listen to my mother either. I learned it because I realized that the people who were telling me what to do with my life weren’t any more successful than she was. So I figured that I may as well listen to her as to strangers. After all, family knows you better, I figure. My therapist tells me that’s just wishful thinking, but what does she know? She probably grew up with summers off. Hell, she probably still lives at home.

Anyway, after a few years. I finally realized that if my life was going to be any better than it had been for my parents, it was really up to me. I mean, nobody was going to hand me a fortune on a silver platter (unless it was stolen silver, that is). So I figure I may as well take advantage of the opportunities around me and make it better myself. So I did.

Like I said, I finished school, gave up being so angry, started to keep out of trouble and fixed things up with my family. Well, not completely. I mean it’s not like I’m ever going to have a normal family life, or anything. And it wasn’t easy, believe me. At first I thought everything was somebody else’s fault, like my parents. For a long time I just blamed them for everything that was wrong in my life. Then, one time, a child care worker pointed out to me that it’s never just the parents” fault; that everyone has a part in it. So I started to look at that and I realized she was right. After a while I started to talk to my parents, and then to the whole family and it sort of got better. I’m probably never going to forgive them completely for everything they did but at least I understand it better now. And, after all, they are my family and that makes a difference too, you know.

As for not getting angry so much, well, that just kind of went along with everything else. Like, I learned to walk away when people made me mad and I found other ways to deal with things that didn’t involve screaming my head off or trying to pulverize somebody else–s.

And now I figure it’s time for me to move on. I mean, you can only get so much out of one place, can’t you? And then it’s time to move on to something else.

I know everything isn’t perfect. But, I’ve got some education now, and a wealth of experience, if I can just figure out how to put it to good use. And I’ve made some good friends. I mean, there are kids and staff I’ve gotten to know who will be friends for a long time–maybe even for the rest of my life. So, it’s time to move on. Out there, into the real world; where life is what you make it. Instead of in here where life is actually pretty easy.

But before I go I want to thank all the people who have been there for me over the years and who have hung in with me while I was trying to find out just who I was and what I wanted to do. I know I haven’t always been easy to be with and I realize now that it’s been good and people have really helped me a lot. But, for me, I’ve been in the system too long and it’s time to move on.

After all, I’ve been working as a child care worker now for 10 years and I figure it’s time to try something else. And, besides, my last evaluation said I should look for something else.

But, then, what do they know, anyway?

This feature: Journal of Child and Youth Care, Vol.7 No.3, pp. 67-70