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My life inside a foster home and Boy's home

Wylted
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2/28/2016 5:33:42 AM
Posted: 9 months ago
I want to give a history of myself here. I presented the first part of this history a while ago, when discussing some of the racism I"ve personally experienced. I"m not looking for sympathy, or anything like that. I merely want to document the parts of my life that can give some individuals insight into what it is like to be in those situations. About 90% of you aspire to be politicians, so there is the off chance I can influence you guys to push for changes, which could make the lives of children easier at some point.

How I got into the "system"

Maybe I"ll get deeper into the how at some point, but you"ll just get a brief overview here. My dad was a bit of a jerk. He would get drunk every night. I did get hit with a belt on several occasions, but I don"t consider my father abusive. He never hit my siblings. I took the blame for everything to protect them. My parents were separated. My mom was in North Carolina in jail, and my father had us in a campground in Florida. Blade of Truth is probably familiar with the campground, way out in Jupiter Farms.

I did digress a bit, but only so you can understand the story better. My dad would frequently deprive me and my siblings of sleep. He"d give us drunken lectures until 4am, almost every day, when we had to be up for school at about 5:30 AM. It"s the type of thing that can literally drive a person insane. Maybe that"s part of the reason, I sought religion at that age. My dad would repeat the same 5 or 6 sentences over and over until he passed out drunk. The theme was always the same. "Your Mom doesn"t love you", "Jesus isn"t real" and "Please stop listening to Nigger music in my house".
I had to escape from this before I lost it completely. I had to free my little brother and little sister from this situation. I was probably about 14, my sister was 12 and my brother was about 10. I developed this plan to run away. Anyway this part can get pretty interesting, I did the typical run away stuff. I advised them on what to take and when and what we would do. Anyway needless to say, this set off a chain of events where the department of children and families (DCF, but has different names depending on the region of the United States you occupy) took custody of us. They didn"t tell us what was going on. In fact they lied to us. The lady with the DCF said she was going to drive us to our mother, so we"d get in the car.

The System

It wasn"t until we were in the back of this car that the truth was told to us. We were headed to some group homes for children. My sister was headed to a girl group home, and us a boys group home. After this disgusting woman told us that, she told us not to attempt to jump out. The window locks and the child safety locks were on. We were headed to a new scary place, and this representative of the government had made sure to shock us about it in the worst possible way

You guys probably have very little ideal what happens to children who are taken out of abusive homes. This may come as a shock to you, but here is what usually happens. DCF takes you out of an abusive home and puts you in a group home with children that are up to 17 years old, and are no longer wanted by their family. Some of them got they"re the same way as us, but most of them are just leaving a juvenile detention facility. After a few months of being there, me and my brother were roomed with a very large and muscular 17 year old white kid who was just released for armed robbery. I know what a lot of people are thinking, but he was a really cool guy. I don"t know what the hell lead him to hold up a convenience store, but he was an alright guy. Best roommate ever.

Back to explaining what happens to people that enter the system. After the children are in a group home for up to a year or more, they get moved to a foster home. Most of these foster homes are worse than the group homes. My sister ended up in a foster home with a black family who treated her like crap and called her racial slurs constantly. My sister got out of that situation by going crazy and acting suicidal when her social worker came to check on her. She had to spend some time in a mental health facility, before going into what is known as a "therapeutic foster home". The therapeutic foster homes are actually really nice, these are the absolute best families, and it would be nice if every kid taken out of abusive or bad situations went to one.

Some shenanigans at the boys home

There were some shenanigans with my sister in the girls home, such as a knife fight she got into, but that"s her story not mine. I have this thing about me, a type of charm. People just like to do what I say, or react the way I want to. That is important to keep in mind. Another thing to keep in mind, is that "the counselors" The counselors at these places are mostly extremely large guys, and muscular. These guys were put in place to keep the peace. They"d routinely break stuff up, by body slamming a 13 year old kid to the ground. (Their favorite move). I was very protective of my brother in this facility. He would get me in so many fights, and he didn"t even realize it, nor could he help it. This black kid had insulted my brother, and it made me mad. The counselors immediately sensed something was up and stepped into a door frame, shielding me and him from each other. I couldn"t get through. I did however notice an odd divide. On the other side of that frame, all the black kids were grouped together. On my side of the frame, were all the white kids. I gathered up the whites an explained that I overheard the black kids planning to attack the whites while we slept, and now the counselor was standing in the way preventing me from trying to address the issue, with the brothers. I did not need to say any more. My roommate (the strong armed robber from earlier), took on the counselor. The white kids and black kid were all tearing each other up, and I was able to make it to the kid who insulted my brother, to fvck him up. Needless to say, racial tensions were running high after this.

All types of interesting things happened there. Too many to get into. I just wanted you to get a sample. Another interesting note about that time. I had hidden my own bathroom supplies, and the staff thought I was not bathing, because I was never on the chart signing anything out. I got the nickname of "Old Dirty Kevin". My last day in the home, I could not watch "Rumble in the Bronx", something I was really looking forward to, because of the points I lost for not showering.
Wylted
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2/28/2016 5:38:53 AM
Posted: 9 months ago
Action Plan

While I was in the system, my mom had gotten out of it. She took her mother and brothers to Florida to help her get on her feet, and to save me and my siblings from having to be in the system. When families get their children in the system, they are given 6 month action plans, that if followed will get them their children back. My mother was starting to follow hers. She obtained a steady job, got a place to live, stopped getting arrested for committing check fraud. She was able to visit us about once a month. My dad received an action plan as well but ignored it, and kept showing up to court drunk.

I was starting to feel lucky around this time. I saw kids that had it worse than me, and in a weird way, it made me feel good. One kid was in there because he tried to protect his sister from abuse worse than what I received, and his mom no longer wanted him. But, I was lucky in another way. Boystown (a charitable organization) stepped into help me and my family. My siblings, and I shared a boystown member who stopped by to visit us often. He was a way better advocate for us than our DCF worker. We had a new DCF worker by now, so she wasn"t as bad. Just ineffective. How could somebody working within the government, make less progress than the Boystown member?

I want to make a bit of a detour. I perhaps may have been too hard on this DCF worker. After my life normalized a bit, I ran into her. She had become a 9-11 operator. I asked her why she was no longer a social worker. She stated that on our particular case, she felt like we were getting the short end of the stick, and she was unable to do any good for us. The day me and my siblings left the system, is the same day she left it. I think she is still answering calls at a 9-11 call center. She is actually saving people now. I hope anyway, because if she is as ineffective at that, as she was as a social worker, she has problems.

It was perhaps her who got us out of that group home. She got my sister into the hellhole, she started out in with the foster care system. I can imagine her frustration leading to her resignation, taking my sister into a worse situation. My frustration was a bit worse than hers though. When she found out the situation we were in, it may have been the straw that broke the camel"s back.

The Foster Home

I moved into a foster home, that was a farm. I helped this Italian family with their horses and pigs. The father was a jerk, but nothing overly bad. The house was however covered in dog shitt all the time. He was the one who never took the dogs outside to poop, but me and the other foster kids were the ones to clean it up. His cooking was also terrible. I thought it as a dream come true. An Italian, cooking me Italian food in this big nice house, in the country. That was until I tasted his food anyway. I don"t know if actual Italian food is bad, or if this guy was just a horrible cook, but I have refused to step in an authentic Italian place since.

In the upstairs portion of the house, me and my brother shared the same room with another set up brothers. The one brother was the type of person who never shut up, it annoyed the hell out of me. His older brother was a palm reader. I don"t know where he developed the skill, but he was really good at it. He was also really into black chicks. He was always stealing all black porno mags and shoving pictures of naked black chicks in my face, asking me what I thought of them. Odd kid. Before him, I shared a room with a cousin of the pro bowl football player Anquan Boldin. We were really close friends at one point. Across the hallway, was an adopted Chinese kid that this family adopted. He was a real stuck up jerk. I read a love letter he wrote to some girl that said if she didn"t date him, that God would hate her. I wouldn"t be surprised to find out that kid is a preacher now. Down stairs in his own room, is the most twisted 5 year old you"ll ever hear about. Remember how I said some kids had it really messed up in life? So much so that it made my life look great. Well, I don"t know what happened to this little boy, but he was deranged. Some stuff that happened to him when I was there was deranged as well.

I walked in one day and some knew kids in the house were literally telling him he could have a toy they brought with them, if he sucked the dog's dick. The kid did it too. I walked in and saw it, and broke it up. I snatched the toy and gave it to the kid. The most disgusting thing I"ve ever seen. I probably should have told my DCF worker about it or something, but judging by how much she sucked at her job, it would have just got swept under the rug. On several occasions while I was there, this 5 year old managed to sneak some prescription drugs and try to overdose with them. He had to be rushed to the hospital on more than a few occasions, because of suicide attempts. My roommate walked into his bedroom on one occasion and saw him trying to set the house on fire, while we were all still sleeping. It almost worked too. A corner of the room was charred. The one good thing about staying at that place is the Italian guy"s son was pretty cool. He would sneak me, my brother and Anquan Boldin"s cousin out of the house to eat at a 24/7 diner every payday, which was once a week for him.

If anybody doesn"t know, that"s the type of stuff that can make a needy child"s life bearable. If it weren"t for that guy"s son sneaking us out to eat, we would"ve had nothing to look forward to, and the kid literally got nothing out of it, other than our company. My uncle when we were in the hood growing up, would stop by from time to time, to take us to see a movie. If you ever want to make a difference in a needy child"s life, that"s how you do it.
Wylted
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2/28/2016 5:40:06 AM
Posted: 9 months ago
Escaping the System
The worker from Boystown had picked me and my siblings up to meet with our mom. She couldn"t meet us at the foster home, because the locations of these foster homes are meant to be kept secret from the parents. We were out all day, like a family. With somebody from Boystown tagging along. These types of supervised visits weren"t bad. Unlike DCF, Boystown was somehow able to be there, without being there. Plus it helped that, I actually liked this guy. At the end of our little get together, he dropped us off at home, where we had not been all day. Dog crap was all over our bedroom floor. We had shut the door, so there was no reason for it to be there. The foster dad yelled at us to clean it up, and I now saw a new personality from our boystown advocate. The boystown advocate whispered to me and my brother "I"ll take care of this", and left. The next day, we were in front of a judge, and me and my siblings were moving back home with my mother. It wasn"t too long after that, that I got a job at Wendy"s. Shortly after getting that job, I got another one at a golf resort. I was working two jobs and bringing in enough money to rent a place at 16. So that"s what I did. My Boystown advocate saw that, and once again went to bat for me. In the next few months, I had gained custody of my siblings, and had been emancipated by the State of Florida.

Conclusion
The intent is to get you guys to understand what takes place in "The System". What type of people end up in it. It"s flaws. This is written in a single draft, and resembles a stream of consciousness. If you need help understanding what I wrote. If you want to understand more about the system from my point of view, or if you just want me to elaborate on anything, then ask away. Also, maybe I"m not the only one that has spent time in the system. I"d be interested in hearing your stories below.
The-Voice-of-Truth
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2/28/2016 7:10:16 AM
Posted: 9 months ago
At 2/28/2016 5:40:06 AM, Wylted wrote:

I never ended up in the system, but I almost made it, if you will.

I grew up on a farm about 30 minutes outside of Memphis, TN. Life had been a routine for me: wake up at 6, feed the horses, do schoolwork (I was homeschooled then), go to the local YMCA in Millington, stay there for 6 hours while doing more schoolwork, coming home, and then doing chores all day. Pretty boring. I really had no friends to speak of, except for maybe the kids across the street, one of them I dated for a bit.

My dad founded his own company to teach whatever he does to companies. He wanted a website, and he needed help creating it, so he found someone. My mom, as insane as she has been officially proven to be, started accusing my dad of cheating on her with the website designer (a woman, btw). My dad denied it, my mom didn't trust him, and this continued...

For about 3 months. In early February of 2010, my mom began saying stuff like, "I wish I could just get away from it all." Well, on February 7, 2010, me and my siblings came inside from feeding the horses for the third time that day to find our mother packing up boxes and rubbermaid tubs and suitcases. She told us to do the same because we were going on a long trip, and we needed this stuff. Sheltered as we were, and knowing nothing else but my mother and father, we obeyed her. We began packing our bags and stuff, and our uncle came over to help us. By 9 p.m, we were done loading up the car when my dad called the home phone from the fire station in Memphis. My sister, only 8 at that time, told him our uncle was over at the house. He asked if it was a bad or good thing. My sister replies, "Yes sir." He asks again, and she again says, "Yes sir." I don't know how this wasn't a tip-off to our dad. He told us later that he felt something wrong about it, but it didn't merit him coming home, and he could have waited until the next morning when he got off of work.

Well, the phone was hung-up, and we got in our mom's car. We drove to the McDonalds in Arlington, TN, where we found our grandmother and great-grandmother as well with their bags packed. I asked our mom why we all were going on a vacation together. I don't remember what she said, but I and my siblings bought it.

At around 10 p.m, we left the McDonalds and got on Interstate 40 towards Nashville. We didn't know where we were going -- I heard Nashville, Louisville, Cincinnati, Boston.

We ended up going to Nashville. It had been snowing, so I watched outside the window for most of the drive as we listened to Journey's Greatest Hits (which repeated itself 4 times).

We got to the hotel at 1 a.m. We stayed in a Homewood Suites and Inn close to the airport in Nashville. We stayed in Nashville 3 days before returning to Collierville, TN. where we stayed at another Homewood Inn. We hid there for a month, all the while no to being able to talk to anyone and being deprived of food.

Me and my siblings had been legally kidnapped.

After a month, we were found, but our mother wasn't arrested. Then began a 3-year divorce/child-custody battle, which our dad finally won because I almost killed myself, and then I ran away from our mother's about a year later. Throughout this whole episode, I was starved, abused, and almost homeless on 3 separate occasions, and I almost ended up in the custody of CPS (Child Protective Services) several dozen times, because the judge hearing the case was a stupid d!ck who thought our dad was unfit to parent us and our mother was to insane to do so.

We finally left our mother behind and moved to Kentucky. I was in the 7th Grade when this all started, and was enrolled in public school in the 8th Grade. I had no friends. I was the small White kid who was the outcast in a city full of nigger thugs (which is where my hatred for the ghetto and welfare comes from, as I elaborated in your other thread). I now live in a small town full of white people who are smart. I have a lot of friends and am the valedictorian of my Senior class.

I have grown so much in this time of struggle for me, and I would not be as happy as I am now without it.
"You're more of a fluentic fail doer who sometimes does a doo dah with a diggity ding, managing to push open doors that weren't meant to be opened, only to find that there's no floor, so you instead become spiderman and crawl on the walls." -Vaarka

I'm Rick Harrison and this is my pawn shop. I work here with my old man and my son, Big Hoss, and in 23 years I've learned one thing. You never know what is gonna come through that door
Wylted
Posts: 21,167
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2/28/2016 7:14:16 AM
Posted: 9 months ago
At 2/28/2016 7:10:16 AM, The-Voice-of-Truth wrote:
At 2/28/2016 5:40:06 AM, Wylted wrote:

I never ended up in the system, but I almost made it, if you will.

I grew up on a farm about 30 minutes outside of Memphis, TN. Life had been a routine for me: wake up at 6, feed the horses, do schoolwork (I was homeschooled then), go to the local YMCA in Millington, stay there for 6 hours while doing more schoolwork, coming home, and then doing chores all day. Pretty boring. I really had no friends to speak of, except for maybe the kids across the street, one of them I dated for a bit.

My dad founded his own company to teach whatever he does to companies. He wanted a website, and he needed help creating it, so he found someone. My mom, as insane as she has been officially proven to be, started accusing my dad of cheating on her with the website designer (a woman, btw). My dad denied it, my mom didn't trust him, and this continued...

For about 3 months. In early February of 2010, my mom began saying stuff like, "I wish I could just get away from it all." Well, on February 7, 2010, me and my siblings came inside from feeding the horses for the third time that day to find our mother packing up boxes and rubbermaid tubs and suitcases. She told us to do the same because we were going on a long trip, and we needed this stuff. Sheltered as we were, and knowing nothing else but my mother and father, we obeyed her. We began packing our bags and stuff, and our uncle came over to help us. By 9 p.m, we were done loading up the car when my dad called the home phone from the fire station in Memphis. My sister, only 8 at that time, told him our uncle was over at the house. He asked if it was a bad or good thing. My sister replies, "Yes sir." He asks again, and she again says, "Yes sir." I don't know how this wasn't a tip-off to our dad. He told us later that he felt something wrong about it, but it didn't merit him coming home, and he could have waited until the next morning when he got off of work.

Well, the phone was hung-up, and we got in our mom's car. We drove to the McDonalds in Arlington, TN, where we found our grandmother and great-grandmother as well with their bags packed. I asked our mom why we all were going on a vacation together. I don't remember what she said, but I and my siblings bought it.

At around 10 p.m, we left the McDonalds and got on Interstate 40 towards Nashville. We didn't know where we were going -- I heard Nashville, Louisville, Cincinnati, Boston.

We ended up going to Nashville. It had been snowing, so I watched outside the window for most of the drive as we listened to Journey's Greatest Hits (which repeated itself 4 times).

We got to the hotel at 1 a.m. We stayed in a Homewood Suites and Inn close to the airport in Nashville. We stayed in Nashville 3 days before returning to Collierville, TN. where we stayed at another Homewood Inn. We hid there for a month, all the while no to being able to talk to anyone and being deprived of food.

Me and my siblings had been legally kidnapped.

After a month, we were found, but our mother wasn't arrested. Then began a 3-year divorce/child-custody battle, which our dad finally won because I almost killed myself, and then I ran away from our mother's about a year later. Throughout this whole episode, I was starved, abused, and almost homeless on 3 separate occasions, and I almost ended up in the custody of CPS (Child Protective Services) several dozen times, because the judge hearing the case was a stupid d!ck who thought our dad was unfit to parent us and our mother was to insane to do so.

We finally left our mother behind and moved to Kentucky. I was in the 7th Grade when this all started, and was enrolled in public school in the 8th Grade. I had no friends. I was the small White kid who was the outcast in a city full of nigger thugs (which is where my hatred for the ghetto and welfare comes from, as I elaborated in your other thread). I now live in a small town full of white people who are smart. I have a lot of friends and am the valedictorian of my Senior class.

I have grown so much in this time of struggle for me, and I would not be as happy as I am now without it.

That sounds rough.
The-Voice-of-Truth
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2/28/2016 7:19:55 AM
Posted: 9 months ago
At 2/28/2016 7:14:16 AM, Wylted wrote:
That sounds rough.

It was, and I could go a lot more in-depth about it, but it is too hard for me. Although it sounds like nothing compared to the situation you endured.
"You're more of a fluentic fail doer who sometimes does a doo dah with a diggity ding, managing to push open doors that weren't meant to be opened, only to find that there's no floor, so you instead become spiderman and crawl on the walls." -Vaarka

I'm Rick Harrison and this is my pawn shop. I work here with my old man and my son, Big Hoss, and in 23 years I've learned one thing. You never know what is gonna come through that door
Wylted
Posts: 21,167
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2/28/2016 7:22:23 AM
Posted: 9 months ago
At 2/28/2016 7:19:55 AM, The-Voice-of-Truth wrote:
At 2/28/2016 7:14:16 AM, Wylted wrote:
That sounds rough.

It was, and I could go a lot more in-depth about it, but it is too hard for me. Although it sounds like nothing compared to the situation you endured.

Yep, there is always somebody who has it worse.
The-Voice-of-Truth
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2/28/2016 7:26:31 AM
Posted: 9 months ago
At 2/28/2016 7:22:23 AM, Wylted wrote:
At 2/28/2016 7:19:55 AM, The-Voice-of-Truth wrote:
At 2/28/2016 7:14:16 AM, Wylted wrote:
That sounds rough.

It was, and I could go a lot more in-depth about it, but it is too hard for me. Although it sounds like nothing compared to the situation you endured.

Yep, there is always somebody who has it worse.

Indeed. Although I find it hard for someone to top your past short of them being homeless all of their lives with no parents to speak of.
"You're more of a fluentic fail doer who sometimes does a doo dah with a diggity ding, managing to push open doors that weren't meant to be opened, only to find that there's no floor, so you instead become spiderman and crawl on the walls." -Vaarka

I'm Rick Harrison and this is my pawn shop. I work here with my old man and my son, Big Hoss, and in 23 years I've learned one thing. You never know what is gonna come through that door
Wylted
Posts: 21,167
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2/28/2016 7:27:38 AM
Posted: 9 months ago
At 2/28/2016 7:26:31 AM, The-Voice-of-Truth wrote:
At 2/28/2016 7:22:23 AM, Wylted wrote:
At 2/28/2016 7:19:55 AM, The-Voice-of-Truth wrote:
At 2/28/2016 7:14:16 AM, Wylted wrote:
That sounds rough.

It was, and I could go a lot more in-depth about it, but it is too hard for me. Although it sounds like nothing compared to the situation you endured.

Yep, there is always somebody who has it worse.

Indeed. Although I find it hard for someone to top your past short of them being homeless all of their lives with no parents to speak of.

I was thinking immediately of the average child in a third world country
The-Voice-of-Truth
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2/28/2016 7:28:59 AM
Posted: 9 months ago
At 2/28/2016 7:27:38 AM, Wylted wrote:
At 2/28/2016 7:26:31 AM, The-Voice-of-Truth wrote:
At 2/28/2016 7:22:23 AM, Wylted wrote:
Yep, there is always somebody who has it worse.

Indeed. Although I find it hard for someone to top your past short of them being homeless all of their lives with no parents to speak of.

I was thinking immediately of the average child in a third world country

Lol. Sad to say that is pretty accurate...
"You're more of a fluentic fail doer who sometimes does a doo dah with a diggity ding, managing to push open doors that weren't meant to be opened, only to find that there's no floor, so you instead become spiderman and crawl on the walls." -Vaarka

I'm Rick Harrison and this is my pawn shop. I work here with my old man and my son, Big Hoss, and in 23 years I've learned one thing. You never know what is gonna come through that door
Vox_Veritas
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2/28/2016 7:26:36 PM
Posted: 9 months ago
So during what part of all this did you live in the black neighborhood.
Call me Vox, the Resident Contrarian of debate.org.

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Buddamoose
Posts: 19,450
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2/28/2016 7:38:55 PM
Posted: 9 months ago
Once again Wylted, you have shone a light upon yourself and helped people understand you as a person. For that, thank you.

My sincerest sympathies for the rough life you lived.
"Reality is an illusion created due to a lack of alcohol"
-Airmax1227

"You were the moon all this time, and he was always there to make you shine."

"Was he the sun?"

"No honey, he was the darkness"

-Kazekirion
Wylted
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2/28/2016 8:47:38 PM
Posted: 9 months ago
At 2/28/2016 7:26:36 PM, Vox_Veritas wrote:
So during what part of all this did you live in the black neighborhood.

That was before I moved to Florida. Did ypu see my thread on that?
Wylted
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2/28/2016 8:54:11 PM
Posted: 9 months ago
At 2/28/2016 7:38:55 PM, Buddamoose wrote:
Once again Wylted, you have shone a light upon yourself and helped people understand you as a person. For that, thank you.

My sincerest sympathies for the rough life you lived.

Thanks, I really just want to shed lightbon what those experiences are like. I also want to explore why I believe certain things. For example, you can probably see how my interactions with the DCF have helped to breed distrust of government. Other things that have breed that distrust include the fact that for a period of time, my parents would kidnap us back and forth. They would always be accompanied by the police when it happened, to assure that the opposite parent, did not lay fingers on them. Part of the reason I hate cops now.

I am trying hard to discover the roots of my beliefs, even the ones based 100% in logic, sometimes or maybe usually have an emotional beginning.

I also want to be somebody, that somebody in that position currently, can reach out to.