Current foster child just told me all policemen are pieces of $#!+. I started to interrupt to say, “that’s not true,” but then they both went on to tell me the reasons why they think that. I couldn’t argue. I listened for about 45 minutes as story after story poured out. It took everything for me to not cry. That was not what they needed. They told me stories about when their dad, who they fiercely love, gets drunk and what happens when the police come. This isn’t about their dad drinking. This isn’t about the police. This is about how these young children, through no fault of their own, view the world around them and the authority figures in it. I am heartbroken for them. One said, very matter-of-factly, “It’s not really fair. I mean, I didn’t do anything and I have to keep moving and I have no control.” No. You don’t. Then they said, “why can’t we stay here?” This is a very short-term placement, and they leave to go live with family out of state in a few days. I’ve only known them a week and they leave soon. This will be a hard goodbye.
Documenting my absurd journey into modern sobriety.