That is how foster care feels…

It started like a normal day.

I was at the babysitter’s house with my little sister and a knock on the door would change our entire lives.

On the other side of the door the police escorted two case workers, and they were there to take us away.

In the back of their car I cried, and I held my baby sister’s hand so tightly my fingers left indents on her hand. To say I was scared would not do the feeling justice, I was terrified. At three years old I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders, I had no idea where they were taking us, no idea where our other siblings were, or our parents. I only knew one thing in the pit of my stomach. I was in trouble, my family was in trouble, and I didn’t know why.

The lady in the front seat turned around with a plastered-on smile and said, “My name is Vicki, same as yours.” Because she said we had the same name, my three-year-old brain computed that this was all my fault. Ever since when people call me Vicki, that same feeling of guilt burns in my gut.

That is how foster care feels. It feels scary, it feels like the vast unknown and it feels like we are in trouble and foster care is part of our punishment, but what did we do?

I saw my mother once more, at three years old. Then she abandoned us completely. Our older half siblings were eventually placed with their paternal family, and we were placed with our paternal great grandmother. They closed our case with our dad having retained his parental rights, but he also retained his mental health challenges and his substance use disorder.

For the next 13 years we ran from foster care with our dad. Every time someone came to talk to us at school, or left a business card on our door, that deep guttural feeling of fear and shame would flare up and we would skip town, fearful that foster care would take our dad from us and separate the three of us. We knew this was real, since the first time we had lost our mom, our sister and our brother, we never heard from them again. The threat of foster care was real, it was persistent.

We moved 36 times, running from foster care and running from the constant challenges that come with a parent living on the edge of reality and struggling with every kind of scarcity and poverty. We were homeless at times, often hungry for days. I did my best holding my sisters through those years, shielding them from the physical parts as best I could. We were grateful that the three of us girls being less than three years apart meant that our very limited clothing could be shared between us and that the sporadic kindness of strangers showed up when there was no light in the darkness of our situation.

When I was 16 foster care caught up with us, and we could run no more. The terrified feeling was the same, but I was a much older and wiser child who knew this might be a better outcome than the ones we faced the day before. At least we wouldn’t be homeless anymore, and everyday survival felt more realistic. I was terrified I would be separated from my sisters, and a few weeks in, I was. That was the hardest day of my life. I would have rather sacrificed both my legs and my arms, than to have to watch my sisters get into the social workers car and be taken away to where… I had no idea.

Our dad also was incarcerated so we lost the ability to contact him, and for the first time in my life I was completely alone, with no one to care for except myself. My self-esteem was so battered by that point I really didn’t care about taking care of myself. I only cared about being there for my sisters. Our Court appointed special advocate, a guardian ad litem volunteer, made sure we got to see each other for birthdays and holidays and fun visits every time she could.

At that point being in foster care felt like holding Hope and Fear in one hand while they had a painful chemical reaction. But I couldn’t show pain or fear – that was not safe – so I became disassociated from the real emotional depth of the situation I was drowning in.

Foster care feels like you need to scream, but you can’t breathe, so you can’t scream, you just drown in your feelings and internalize all the bad in the situation.

On my 18^th birthday they kicked me out – they called it emancipation; I called it my impending doom. I would turn 18 in October of my senior year. I was too afraid to ask my foster parents what that meant. Stringing together the words, “Can I stay?” was too heavy, too painful. And I had already assumed they would say no, and my assumptions were usually right. So I planned to drop out of school so I could work enough to rent a room and when I could, I would try to get my GED. I had been accepted to my dream college but I was sure that dream was about to be snatched away on my birthday, my emancipation day.

I was armed with a plan I didn’t need; my foster parents did let me stay, even after there was no check to cash and no caseworker to call for help. I stayed with them until the day I went to college. They moved my stuff from my foster home to my dorm room.  In March we will celebrate 20 years being family.

Eight years ago, I learned about Fostering Great Ideas. I was drawn in by the Sib-Link program, as separated siblings have always touched my parentified child soul. Once I learned more I decided I wanted to work for this organization because they could have just stopped at one great idea, but when you really SEE the children you know that one program or one service isn’t going to do all that they need. What kids in foster care really need are relationships they can count on in front of the programming and resources they need to access.

Tutoring can help a child pass their class, but a relationship with a tutor who encourages you and shows you that you are smart and capable will stay with that child for their entire life.

A mentor who picks you up from the group home so you can get out of there for a little while for ice cream or coffee is really nice, but what is great is when our mentors stick with their teens long term and one day clap at their graduation, cry at their wedding and hold their babies.

If I had a program like Aspire with a life coach who also has been in foster care I would have had someone to help me have that hard conversation with my foster parents, saving my weeks of agonizing anxiety. In fact, just knowing someone older than me who was also in foster care would have been so invigorating for me. I didn’t meet an adult who talked about being in foster care until I was in my 20s.

Every one of our great ideas is something I recognized would have helped me and my sisters.

As the Director of Advocacy, I have my dream job helping people Speak Up and share their foster care experience in powerful ways, harnessed by advocacy and supported by a network of lived experts who are vulnerable with their stories and know that when we open ourselves up and share our stories it does not go back and make our story better, but it hopefully improves the story of a child walking in our footsteps.

Tonight, we are surrounded by caring people, advocates who are here to speak up for my people, children in foster care, families navigating the system. We are here because the children in this community and in South Carolina need our love and our support. To see 350 caring individuals tonight warms my heart. Tonight, you are shining your light so that Fostering Great Ideas can Shine On. That means the world to me and the rest of our Fostering Great Ideas family – thank you!

Tori Shuler is Director of Advocacy for Fostering Great Ideas.