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I have recently been uprooted from my home in Indiana. Three weeks ago my grandmother, whom at the time I was living with, decided to die. I was living with her because my mother ran off to join the Westboro Baptist Church, being the Christian Nazi that she is. I've never known my father and so couldn't turn to him, and my step-father, whom I was close with, has distanced himself greatly since my mom's departure.
I have four siblings, Alaska, who is my twin sister (we are 16), Suhky, who is 14, Juliet, who is 10 and Daisy, who is 4. They all stayed in Indiana when I got moved. Since mom left, things started to get nasty at school, I started getting bullied and cyber-bullied, my friends left me because I was making them look bad. What they didn't understand was that it wasn't me who left to join WBC, it was my mom. I was already ashamed with this fact, but the taunting made it increasingly worse.
I suffer with severe depression, I have previously attempted suicide, to no avail. Obviously. I ended up in a coma. Yup. I won't describe this to you, however I will say this: it was terrible. It really fucked my brain up - and by that I mean I have literal brain damage, it's minor, but noticeable. I think the suicidal thoughts come more frequently now, especially after the move to California. When my nan died social services intervened because none of my existing family members wanted us. So just like that, in the space of three days, I was torn away from my siblings and forced to endure an agonizing 32 hour car trip with the World's Most Boring Social Worker. Whom I later found out was also a bitch.
So anyway, we arrive at this small-for-a-care-home sized house. It's the middle of the night when we arrive - literally, I think it was 5/6am or something so everyone was asleep. It was a Friday and by the time everyone got up, I'd be asleep and they would go to school. I knew I couldn't avoid them forever, but I was willing to try. They showed me around the house, then let me 'settle in' in my room. If you can call it a room. It's more like a cupboard. Just call me Harry.
Anyway, Saturday morning eventually came and I thought this would be the best time to meet everyone. WRONG. I walked into the dining area and oh my god. Every face in that brightly-colored, sickeningly sanitized room looked up as I walked in. It was bad enough that this room looked like the child's wing at the local hospital, but to be confronted by eight children/teenagers and four 'adults' (one of them has literally just stepped out of college?), nightmare. Now maybe this is God punishing me for not joining the WBC with my mom, because I prayed and prayed and prayed that they would look away, not say anything, or for the ground to open up and swallow me, but no. Thankfully they spoke first, so that I didn't have to make the first move. "who are you?" "what's your name?" "how old are you?" "where are you from?" "why are you here?" "how long are you staying?" it makes you feel kind of famous. I knew I wasn't though, I don't deserve to be.
I answered all their questions as best I could "Alby, 16, Indiana, my grandma died, I don't know". This seemed to satisfy them for the time being and I was allowed to sit down and eat my breakfast in silence, listening to them talk over one another. It wasn't then that I decided I hated it here, it was a week later when my witch of a social worker first confronted me about 'not settling in'. I started going out during the night, and sleeping during the day - she made a note that this was because I was finding it difficult to settle in and get on with the other kids. The truth, though, is that I have online friends who are from Europe. My body is running on their time, so when it is nighttime in the UK, my body shuts down and goes to sleep too, however in California, it's the middle of the day. But who really cares? Emma, that's who. That's my social worker (*cough*bitch*cough*). It was her idea for me to start blogging. She said it would help me (how?) to start keeping an online diary of my life. Yay. So here we are.
Something amazing has happened to me though. Two of my online friends, Mason and Eva (18 and 19) have applied to foster me. That's truly amazing isn't it? They live in CA too, 45 minutes away. I met them recently, a few weeks back, they're lovely. They have been a couple for a while and they have their own house and stuff. Eva is currently in her first year at college and Mason is a full-time employee of Apple HQ. I know they're young, but I'm being so 'troublesome' and 'not settling in properly' that my social worker can't wait to get rid of me. Besides, Mason and Eva have made a very convincing case for why they want me.
That leads me to today. Monday 7th March 2016. Mason and Eva are coming today. It's half 8 in the morning. They have a meeting scheduled with my social worker at 2pm, and if that goes well, they'll come back and have another meeting on Thursday, with me there too.
I guess that's all.
I have four siblings, Alaska, who is my twin sister (we are 16), Suhky, who is 14, Juliet, who is 10 and Daisy, who is 4. They all stayed in Indiana when I got moved. Since mom left, things started to get nasty at school, I started getting bullied and cyber-bullied, my friends left me because I was making them look bad. What they didn't understand was that it wasn't me who left to join WBC, it was my mom. I was already ashamed with this fact, but the taunting made it increasingly worse.
I suffer with severe depression, I have previously attempted suicide, to no avail. Obviously. I ended up in a coma. Yup. I won't describe this to you, however I will say this: it was terrible. It really fucked my brain up - and by that I mean I have literal brain damage, it's minor, but noticeable. I think the suicidal thoughts come more frequently now, especially after the move to California. When my nan died social services intervened because none of my existing family members wanted us. So just like that, in the space of three days, I was torn away from my siblings and forced to endure an agonizing 32 hour car trip with the World's Most Boring Social Worker. Whom I later found out was also a bitch.
So anyway, we arrive at this small-for-a-care-home sized house. It's the middle of the night when we arrive - literally, I think it was 5/6am or something so everyone was asleep. It was a Friday and by the time everyone got up, I'd be asleep and they would go to school. I knew I couldn't avoid them forever, but I was willing to try. They showed me around the house, then let me 'settle in' in my room. If you can call it a room. It's more like a cupboard. Just call me Harry.
Anyway, Saturday morning eventually came and I thought this would be the best time to meet everyone. WRONG. I walked into the dining area and oh my god. Every face in that brightly-colored, sickeningly sanitized room looked up as I walked in. It was bad enough that this room looked like the child's wing at the local hospital, but to be confronted by eight children/teenagers and four 'adults' (one of them has literally just stepped out of college?), nightmare. Now maybe this is God punishing me for not joining the WBC with my mom, because I prayed and prayed and prayed that they would look away, not say anything, or for the ground to open up and swallow me, but no. Thankfully they spoke first, so that I didn't have to make the first move. "who are you?" "what's your name?" "how old are you?" "where are you from?" "why are you here?" "how long are you staying?" it makes you feel kind of famous. I knew I wasn't though, I don't deserve to be.
I answered all their questions as best I could "Alby, 16, Indiana, my grandma died, I don't know". This seemed to satisfy them for the time being and I was allowed to sit down and eat my breakfast in silence, listening to them talk over one another. It wasn't then that I decided I hated it here, it was a week later when my witch of a social worker first confronted me about 'not settling in'. I started going out during the night, and sleeping during the day - she made a note that this was because I was finding it difficult to settle in and get on with the other kids. The truth, though, is that I have online friends who are from Europe. My body is running on their time, so when it is nighttime in the UK, my body shuts down and goes to sleep too, however in California, it's the middle of the day. But who really cares? Emma, that's who. That's my social worker (*cough*bitch*cough*). It was her idea for me to start blogging. She said it would help me (how?) to start keeping an online diary of my life. Yay. So here we are.
Something amazing has happened to me though. Two of my online friends, Mason and Eva (18 and 19) have applied to foster me. That's truly amazing isn't it? They live in CA too, 45 minutes away. I met them recently, a few weeks back, they're lovely. They have been a couple for a while and they have their own house and stuff. Eva is currently in her first year at college and Mason is a full-time employee of Apple HQ. I know they're young, but I'm being so 'troublesome' and 'not settling in properly' that my social worker can't wait to get rid of me. Besides, Mason and Eva have made a very convincing case for why they want me.
That leads me to today. Monday 7th March 2016. Mason and Eva are coming today. It's half 8 in the morning. They have a meeting scheduled with my social worker at 2pm, and if that goes well, they'll come back and have another meeting on Thursday, with me there too.
I guess that's all.
