Hey Kid

Hey Kid:

It’s me, or rather you as an old person. After many years and many tears, I want to write this letter to that little, scared kid in there just wanting someone safe to take her hand. Maybe if I make that little girl understand the truth and she can heal maybe I will too. And the most important thing to say is that you were a KID! The things you went thru are cruel and twisted, attacking your body while your soul is eaten by shame.

When Mom died you felt lost, you were lost. Now the only one here is dad and he’s not an angel. You would rather do anything except be around him. Mom had been murdered and dad went thru being accused of murder. When the police arrived he was rocking mom like a baby with half her head gone from the bullet. The next thing you knew people and police were everywhere and you were being taken to an airport by complete strangers. Strangers to you, but not to your father. It was his sister who collected you with your little bag of belongings, like a waif in the cold.

Strangers picking you up continued for 2 years. It did a lot to your sense of security and confidence, always being the new one. Especially when the teachers separated you because you are smarter than your classmates. This totally pissed everyone off that you are the smarter one and you had special privileges.  

And after 2 years of going from place to place you were so ready to just have a home. That is when the final set of foster parents said they would take you. But the relief of a permanent loving family was short-lived. You were 9 when you “found a home.” A home with 3 kids 18, 16, and 14. Growing up with older kids was interesting. They enjoyed it. Feeding you alcohol and drugs and then doing what they do. You were so sick and scared and you couldn’t tell anyone because they would beat you up. One time you got beat up in an abandoned house. One of the “guys” who hung out and he did what he did when he had the chance.

The problem was his wife didn’t care that you were the victim and she and 2 other girls beat the living crap out of you and took your winter coat. I know that was one lonely, long walk home in the snow, no coat, bloody nose, and facing the parents was going to be bad.

Mom was gone and even though dad was alive he did not have custody. Then he decided it was a good time to get us back from the foster system, which, in the 1960s wasn’t much. No CPS, no protect the children. We lived in the “children should be seen briefly but not heard” time.

Your parent received a call that your dad wanted to see you. Your father got off of the plane and ran to hug you. You just stood there, blank face and empty eyes. At 11 years old you were really 100 in your soul. No return hugs.

After 2 weeks of visitation, he returned to California to go to jail. 3 days after his return he was found dead from a gunshot wound to the head. You didn’t know whether to cry with relief or should you have been sad? No, you were not sad. You were void of any emotion. Looking into your eyes was like looking into nothing, a dark circle, your eye, hiding so many secrets. So many emotions choking the life out of you.

After the funeral and the obligatory crap that comes with a funeral, you continued life as if nothing happened. Until the magic came. Your foster siblings were all older than you and were happy to give you drugs and alcohol and when you were wiped out you paid for it. This is what you did as a teen. Conversely, the 1st actual sign of emotion came, you not only graduated from high school, you gradated in your junior year, 11th in a class of 171. You graduated with honors, a full-time job, and a kid that was now a year old. You felt so good when you walked across the stage, walking on air. You really wanted to flip them off but nobody came.

Looking back at you and the life you were handed, not many people, much less kids, would have kept their heads much less accomplished the aforesaid feats. And when you were awarded a 2-year full scholarship you were walking on air. This was your way out of this mess of a life. But as punishment, your foster parents tore the paperwork up in your face. At that moment any sanity you had regained was splintered.

The way out, something you can do, where you thrive, all taken away by someone with a 3rd-grade education. Then you decided there was no hope for you and jumped headlong into the booze and drugs. That was relief from all of the horrors so you thought. When you got high the horrible voices shut up. But that just led to more horrors

 And now you’re 18 and out of the house. Unfortunately, you continued to make wrong choices and hurt other people. All of your life there was no consistency or support, there was drugs and alcohol.

My advice to you is things you have come to know in your older age. But know that the things you blame yourself for as a child were not your fault. You were the victim. Unfortunately, circumstances supported your bad habits and running away from the problems. So let that go and quit feeling guilty. Know that you are very resourceful and you will continue to not be held down. Believe in yourself thru your accomplishments; graduating 2 years early with honors, holding a full-time job, and raising a child alone. And if I’m not mistaken they don’t just give a 2-year scholarship to just anyone, You earned it.

Live your life with your true self and see where it takes you. Don’t hide behind the drugs and booze. You are a good person, big-hearted (which got you into some of your trouble), and loyal. Rise up and declare that your life is valuable and let all of the hell slide down your back and out of here. You proved them all wrong and the rewards are great. You are strong.

Update 2022: 39 years clean and sober, 2 degrees, 2 grown kids.