The Story of Me

Well, as of late, I have been seeing posts of people’s life stories, whether it’s their whole life or snippets. So, I suppose it’s time for me to toss my experiences into the ring, so be prepared.

While I had some time before this, I guess my story truly begins when I was put into foster care at the age of 4 after my younger sister passed. I don’t remember a lot of the start, only fragments.

It was tough and possibly traumatizing for my kid self being yanked from my home to a temporary place, since the woman who picked me was on vacation at the time.

I remember bits of that place, mainly the kitchen and watching Thomas the Train with the other kids. Although fuzzy, those memories feel happy, or at least calm.

It didn’t last long, as I was quickly brought to the foster home I’d live at for the next 4 years.

I’d like to say it got better, but I never fit in with the other members of my foster family. They were either normal or have moderate to severe special needs, whereas I hung in a weird middle area, which nobody really tried to understand.

I was forced into being things I wasn’t, like a girly girl. They had my hair grow out from the bob, dressed me in pink, skirts, and dresses. Even had to do take ballet, which for my unmedicated attention deficient self, was the most boring thing in…