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Foster Kid
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As I detailed in a previous post, my earliest memory is watching my father drag my mother down the street by her hair. It was home filled with fear and anxiety. I remember the sounds of my dad banging on the locked doors and windows of our home while drunk, screaming for my mom to let him in. These nights (which to me seemed to happen every night) usually ended with the police being called. My earliest memories were not of myself being abused, but rather of the abuse my mother sustained. I also remember going in and out of women’s shelters with her and my siblings. Unfortunately, the abuse didn’t end with my mom. My siblings and I also experienced abuse. Although we each had our own bed, my siblings and I chose to share the same bed every night because during the night, my mom would come into the room and beat us with a large stick (one of those wooden rods used to secure a sliding door from opening). By sleeping in the same bed, we could rotate which one of us was on the outside and would receive the swats. Even though my brother would wet the bed every night and I would get soaked in his urine, it was worth it not to take as many lashings. My mom would use the same stick and back me into a corner and hit me whenever I would come in from outside. On weekends she wouldn’t want to deal with us and would lock us outside, even in the very cold Washington-state winter only dressed in our underwear. I also remember never getting any sleep because my mom would blast music throughout the house, singing and dancing all night long. The noise would keep me awake (I will talk more about this in a future post). Nights were challenging, but so too was bath time. During bath time, I recall my mother bathing all three of us at once. She would use scalding hot water that burned our skin. We would stand gripping the side of the tub waiting to be soaped up. Mealtime wasn’t much better. Meals consisted of government cheese, bread, peanut butter, etc. that my mom would get once a month. She would come home with the supplies and make grilled cheese sandwiches and freeze them to use all month long. Every morning we would eat the (still frozen) sandwiches for breakfast. For dinner we ate whatever she decided to piece together (she would fondly refer to these meals as her “concoctions”). We weren’t allowed to leave the table until we ate everything given to us. I would put the food in my pockets and throw them outside into the bushes. I always lived in fear that she would catch and punish me. These are just some of my earliest childhood memories prior to entering foster care at age 9. I have many complicated feelings about being raised by a mother who was abused herself and battled with mental illness. But I do not judge my mother from the treatment I sustained in my childhood. Instead, I choose to look at her with compassion. I have no doubt my mom loved me. But I know she did what she could to survive and with the resources and awareness she had at the time. I hope if you’re reading this you too choose not to judge my mother–or anyone else who may be in a similar position. But rather I invite you to offer an ear or a hand. Judging my mom wouldn’t have helped me or my siblings, but someone reaching out and offering help, support, or guidance could have. "Compassion. It's not just a word. It’s a way of being. It’s not just a concept. Its love in action." -Jeff Brown Until next Monday… 
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My relationship with my father–growing up and into adulthood–was either complicated or non-existent (to put it in the simplest terms). In future posts I will go into greater detail, but in honor of Father’s Day, I wanted to share a particular story about my father. When my father received word that my siblings and I had been removed from our mother’s custody and placed into foster care, he was addicted to drugs and did not have a place of his own. He was told that he had an opportunity to obtain custody of us kids. My father made the choice to become sober, obtain a job, and secure housing. The decisions required commitment and hard work and were not easy to do. Since I work in CPS, I can appreciate too, how difficult the process was for a father in the 80’s to obtain custody of his children, which makes me appreciate his efforts all the more. By year’s end we were living with my father. I still recall believing that the day we got to leave foster care to move in with our dad was the best day of my childhood and that all our problems would be over. Unfortunately, reality was different than I had imagined it to be. My father was unable to maintain his sobriety for long. Though I have chosen to remember and find gratitude in this act this Father’s Day (and every Father’s Day). I could allow the bad memories and negative feelings consume me, but instead I choose to forgive. Mahatma Gandhi says, “The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.” Forgiveness is powerful and a gift we give ourselves and grace for others who are only human and flawed. Until Next Monday…  Steve and I didn’t have high hopes for this trip or marathon. I had been dealing with an ear infection and illness for two weeks and was still not feeling well (not to mention hot flashes and my hip tendonitis were back). And of course, the saying goes ‘when it rains, it pours,’ and there were storms filling the forecast during our time in South Dakota. But my goodness, am I pleasantly surprised to share that this trip and race were incredible! To use Steve’s words “This was the best marathon… EVER!” What a way to kick off our journey to 50 Marathons in 50 States (for the second time). We arrived in Rapid City on Friday. We enjoyed a day of sight-seeing to include Mount Rushmore. We checked into the historic Alex Johnson Hotel where we had drinks on the roof top and headed to our room for the night. We absolutely loved the hotel; however, we got little sleep since there was a wedding party celebrating all night long. The views were stunning, and the food was delicious on our second day exploring. We enjoyed buffalo burgers and time with my Uncle John, who was also running the marathon. We picked up our packets for the race and unfortunately had another night of no sleep since our room shared a wall with the hotel bar. I wasn’t feeling my best the morning of the marathon. I was exhausted and not feeling well; I had a persistent earache, chest congestion and hot flashes. I know how important outlook is to the experience we have, and so I was determined to embrace the day and focus on the views and the beautiful opportunity I had before me (and not focus on everything that was bothering me). The weather during the race was absolutely perfect. The views were stunning from beginning to finish (and the trails were immaculately kept). At mile 13 it started to rain, but everyone around me shouted with joy (clearly this wasn’t raining on our parade). The rain shower was brief, and the joy I shared with my fellow racers still brings a smile to my face. At mile 20, I was slowed by a downhill with mud, but I still enjoyed that leg of the race. I finished the marathon in 4:12. I was very proud (and surprised) knowing how terrible I felt. And bonus…. I took 1st place in my age group! After the race, I relaxed and cheered on the other runners as they crossed the finish line (including my Uncle John and hubby). We took a brisk walk back to the hotel and enjoyed a post-marathon party downtown with a fellow marathoner (who is 77 years old) and his wife. For our active recovery day, we explored Devils tower and the Badlands National Park. Steve and I thought this trip were going to be a bust due to being sick the week prior to going and the forecasted weekend of rainstorms however, it ended up being one of the best trips ever. I hope this motivates you to keep an open mind and take a chance. We cannot predict how an experience will go (even when we have some evidence that leaves us feeling pessimistic). Like John Legend said, “ You learn so much from taking chances, whether they work out or not.” So take the chance and hopefully it surprises you (in the best possible way) and if it doesn’t it certainly will teach you something. Until Next Monday...  Like me, you’ve probably found yourself in a situation where you feel stuck, unhappy, and unfulfilled. Maybe you are in this place right now, as you read this. I have had to start over again and again throughout my life, and the process never seems to get any easier. I am giving myself grace to try and error in the pursuit of making changes I believe will bring me long-term satisfaction. When I start over, I find certain actions helpful.
The first thing I focus on is my mindset and how I feel about taking steps to change. I listen and notice the thoughts running through my mind. Some questions might be: Am I afraid? Is the payoff worth it? What if I make things worse? Is this change REALLY necessary? I then focus on getting clarity around why I want to make this change in order to ground myself and determine what I need to do. I need to ask MYSELF questions like: Am I willing to do the work to break free from this existing situation? What am I fearing about this situation? Is my ego preventing me from making this shift? Perspective is everything. In order to break free, we must step back and look at the situation with fresh eyes. So instead of letting my passive mind do the talking, I control the mental dialogue and how I choose to see the situation. A small change in your perspective powerfully impacts how you experience your circumstances and improves your motivation, self-esteem, and confidence. You cannot control the world or what is happening around you, but you do have power over your mind. Once your mind is ready, you can begin identifying challenges that may arise. By understanding what obstacles may be in your way, you can prepare for how to overcome them. I write down each challenge and come up with at least three potential solutions. This helps quiet the mind’s internal critic and helps me see the steps to move forward. Each problem has an answer and knowing this helps us find comfort with change. I also try to identify hidden opportunities that come from change and focus my attention there. Finally, I create a plan to achieve the change I want to make. I set a long-term goal and work my way backwards to create smaller short-term goals. Not only does this allow me to feel successful by having many smaller points of celebration on my journey towards my larger goal, but it helps me stretch myself gradually over time and makes the accomplishment of that bigger goal possible with manageable chunks. I choose to invest my time and energy into creating this plan, but also seeing it through and making it a reality. So here I am, starting over again. I gave myself grace and space to determine my next steps forward. Running helps me sort through my problems, and I chose to use my Deadwood Michelson Trail Marathon this weekend in South Dakota to do exactly that. As I ran, the song "I'm Only Human" came on and I recounted all the things my body has been telling me lately: sickness, an ear infection, menopause, and inability to sleep to name a few. I realized that I am also only human, and I need to put a pin in my goal to run a 100-mile ultra-marathon (for now). Sometimes the right step forward is not the one we expected to take, but we must constantly assess where we find ourselves and while that can mean keeping the same path, sometimes it involves taking an unexpected turn. Regardless, we can enjoy the journey forward. I’ll leave you with the words of Eckhart Tolle: “Sometimes letting go is an act of far greater power than defending or hanging on.” If you find yourself craving change or improvement, I hope you too choose to begin again. Until Next Monday… |
AuthorPollyann Keller Archives
October 2024
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