I Left Foster Care
But My Past Came with Me

By Mary Hanson

One day when I was 25, I sat in church reading the Sunday bulletin. I noticed there was a brunch at one of Houston’s yuppie restaurants. I was hungry, and I wanted to meet new people. But I was nervous and scared. I got on the freeway, got off the freeway, and circled around for 15 minutes.

“OK, this is ridiculous, either go or don’t go,” I told myself. I felt pressure to go because I had decided not long before to leave my circle of unhealthy friendships and find people who could be positive for me. Finally I drove to the restaurant. I took a deep breath and walked over to the group of people from my church. Gene, a guy with sandy-colored hair and a medium build, came over to talk to me. In the restaurant, Gene sat next to me.

A Different Kind of Guy

We talked non-stop as if no one else was around, and after that we started dating. On our first date, to the beach, I told him about my parents, who were mentally retarded, and my 12 years in foster care as if I was attempting to run him off. He didn’t run away. He called me and asked me out again. I knew then that he was different.

When Gene and I started to date, I made the decision to start emotionally taking care of myself. I’d started to realize that I couldn’t close the door on 12 years in foster care as if they never happened. Time had healed nothing. Ten years later, I was angry as the day I left foster care.

When I began reflecting on my years in foster care, I realized why I was having trouble standing alone, being confident and accepting myself. In my foster homes, I was rejected so many times that I actually began to believe I was bad and unlovable. I believed that it was my fault that I was moved from home to home. I believed that if I hadn’t been so bad the foster parents would have kept me.

In reality I was a normal kid who did normal things. But I learned that by pleasing people, I could get affirmation and security. So I tried to fit into everyone else’s world and get everyone else to like me. I got pushed around and felt unable to stand up for myself.

Do You Have What It Takes?

Foster care also didn’t give me the increasing responsibilities that I might have had in a good family. Before I left care at 15, I’d never been allowed to make a decision for myself. The system then sent me to live with my aunt, and there I had to make all my own decisions. My aunt expected me to feed and clothe myself, so I had to earn a living. She paid no attention to me, so I had to figure out how I wanted to live. My low grades reflected these adult responsibilities. Three years later, I barely graduated high school.

I Tried to Put Foster Care in the Past

Still, after graduating from high school, I thought I had a fairly easy transition to adult life. For the first time I was in control of my life. It felt great. I decided to work and put all my years of foster care in the past.

I thought all the sadness and anger I felt in foster care would be behind me. But in truth, I was extremely lonely, feeling helpless and out of control. I felt insecure and questioned every decision I made. I had no one to turn to so if I met anyone who I thought could help me, I asked them about making it on my own. I got a lot of practical help, and throughout my 20s I worked steadily and lived on my own. But professional success didn’t make me happy. Instead, I was miserable but successful.

In my early 20s, I worked as a flight attendant and lived far from family. As a flight attendant I was used to being treated with respect. I didn’t realize until I quit my job and moved back to Houston just how badly my old friends and family had been treating me. When I got back, I learned that my family had stolen things out of my storage unit and sold them in a garage sale. I was furious. How could they sell my things and keep the money?

My Past Kept Popping Up

I began to realize that my past kept popping in my head like those Internet pop-up ads. I perceived every minor violation as a World War III attack and felt like I had to defend myself. I would go into a rage and then fill up with tears, depression and a deep hurt.

Repressing my feelings had helped me become a successful professional. But I had stopped being able to control the force of resentment and anger that surfaced whenever I felt like I was being treated unfairly.

Therapist #1: A Quick Fix

Finally, I had no choice but to make a visit to the psychologist. She said I needed to set healthy boundaries. That meant that I needed to do what I wanted for myself, and not allow people to treat me in ways that hurt me. With the help of therapy, I began to stop allowing my family to lean on me. When my aunt had drinking and drug socials, I said I had to work. When my dad asked me for money, I angrily said, “What makes you think I have money?” I shrugged off their guilt trips and did what was in my own best interest.

Then I almost died of a brain aneurysm. It was terrifying, but it forced me to change so much about myself. As I lay in the hospital, I had to recognize that none of my family came to see me. I was numb. Over night I changed my priorities. I stopped smoking and drinking. I told myself that my family had never been there except to ridicule or use me. I had no choice but to see them for who they were.

I only went to counseling long enough to get out of my crisis. I didn’t have the time, money or energy to continue. Long-term therapy is emotionally taxing. I got my quick fix, got out of a major depression and tried to move on with my life.

While working at a nightclub in Houston I ran into an old acquaintance named Mark. We started to date, but the more I got to know him, the more I did not like what I saw. He was a jeweler and his employer claimed he was missing jewelry. He didn’t pay rent because he was fixing up the landlady’s apartment—until she realized he was taking advantage. Then he got a job at a bar and got fired for coming up short of money on the register. One night he became angry with me and took my hand and pounded it into my forehead. That was it. Our relationship was over. He didn’t accept the breakup, calling me at work and begging forgiveness five, six times in a row. I feared losing my job because he was harassing. I didn’t back down, but the experience left me shaken and depressed.

Therapist #2: I Blew Her Doors Off

I picked one of the therapists on my insurance plan and went to her office upset but composed. She was a frail, thin, older lady that reminded me of someone’s mother. I blurted out everything and she looked at me. She said, “Oh my God,” and started grabbing papers on codependency, addiction, trust, anger, depression and anxiety. I left her office and never went back. I thought, “This lady can’t handle me! I just blew her doors off.”

Therapist #3: Stop Dating Jerks

One Saturday I was driving around crying hysterically, thinking about suicide. I decided to try counseling again. I knew if I was that depressed I had a problem.

I wanted to know from my therapist why only unhealthy guys were asking me out. My therapist told me, “By accepting a date you’re choosing them.” This was a revelation to me: Who I dated was my choice. I felt inspired and empowered.

I stopped therapy after three months, but it definitely helped. I soon met a guy who, after one date, wanted too much from me. I never saw him again. Then a guy asked me to meet him for cocktails. After one drink he asked me to go to his house for dinner. I said, “I’d rather get dinner in a restaurant.” He got angry. I never saw him again, either.

Finding Mr. Right

That’s when I decided to start going to church again. And that’s how I met Gene. In Gene, I knew I had found someone who could truly be a husband and a father. He was calm and patient with me. He was sensitive and we talked about everything. He also supported me by helping me to pursue my interests in school.

Gene expanded my interests. He took me skiing three years in a row, and even got me lessons and clothes to wear for our trip. We ran a marathon together. And once he asked me to a ball and then bought me a dress to wear because I didn’t have one. We were in love and our times together were fun.

But after we’d been dating for three years, he broke up with me, saying he was unable to decide if he wanted to make a commitment. I was angry and hurt. I didn’t understand how someone could possibly not know what he wanted. Angrily, I said, “Figure it out.”

Therapist #4: Commit to Him

I ended up at the psychologist again because I was feeling insecure and I didn’t know what to do. Gene was the man I wanted to marry. I told the therapist that I’d already bought him a Christmas present, spending more than I could afford on a midnight blue cashmere sweater I thought he’d like. I didn’t know what to do with it. The psychologist told me to do what my heart told me. I gave Gene the sweater. After Christmas we started dating again and one year later he asked me to marry him. He told me later that when we broke up he realized what he’d lost.

Therapist #5: ‘You Can’t Control Others’

Getting married and dealing with my new in-laws brought back negative feelings from childhood. I’d always dreamt I’d marry a guy with a loving family. But his family rejected me, saying, “I’m worried about where you came from.” When they said that, an intense rage came over me. I felt judged by the past I’d tried so hard to overcome. And I felt irrationally afraid that I’d end up getting abused again.

After a honeymoon stuffing all my emotions inside me, my husband and I headed for therapy. The therapist pointed out to my husband and me that in-law problems like this happen all the time, but that I was experiencing intense rage, anger and hurt because the rejection was a replay of my foster care experiences.

She helped me see that although I wasn’t causing the problems, I wasn’t handling rejection well either. Their cruelness towards me is about them. If Gene had married someone else, they would’ve treated her badly, too. I learned that I cannot control others and their actions, but I can control mine.

Therapist #6: As Angry As Ever

When we moved from Houston to Wyoming, I screamed at the realtor. I was unable to tolerate her incompetence. That landed me in therapy once again because I knew raging at a realtor wasn’t acceptable.

Therapist #7: I Need this Long-Term

I thought I was done with therapy! But when my husband and I planned a trip to visit his parents, every negative thought possible came into my mind. I started to toss and turn all night.

Then I thought, “I can’t handle this. I won’t go through it again. I should kill myself.” I started to drink, not to calm myself but to be self-destructive. When my mother-in-law called, I panicked. Trying to think of the quickest way to get my point across, I said, “I have a little bit of posttraumatic stress going on here.” Then I told her, “You have no right to judge my parents. I didn’t come from anywhere you didn’t.” I started to weep and said, “I’ve got to go.”

Stopping the Dysfunction

Finally, I realized that I needed long-term therapy to address the root causes of my pain and anger. Twelve years in foster care would not be erased with occasional, brief psychotherapy.

I’ve come to realize that the best thing I can do is stop the dysfunction that has run in my family for so long. It is my intention to be the best possible mother.

Forgiveness is still a struggle. I know I need to heal my wounds but it’s not easy. I am relieved that therapy has enabled me to label my feelings. That helps me deal with my pain. Unfortunately, at times the song of my past takes over. I rage, become unable to think, drink in excess, have flashbacks and get to the point of thinking about suicide.

Finally Dealing With My Past

When I first went to counseling, the therapist gave me some information about psychological problems I was dealing with. The information was overwhelming so I filed it away.

Now, ten years later, I still pull out all the sheets of paper. I’m overwhelmed to see that they knew all along what was going on with me. I wasn’t ready to deal with it all. I’ve only dealt with each situation as it became important in my life to do that.

I’ve come a long way psychologically. I’ve been out of foster care for 22 years. I’m still amazed by its long series of after-effects that continue to control my life.

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