In the child protective system

I was with my adoptive parents from the age of three and a half until once again the state took me away because of child abuse at the age of twelve. Throughout the next four years I moved in and out of foster homes, group homes, two mental health facilities and juvenile hall. I had quickly mastered the art of running away. I was constantly AWOL. Running away became a sort of sport. I was taking control of my life and having fun outsmarting the parents or staff I was placed with. The courts, of course, did not like this little game. Which is why I wound up in juvenile hall repeatedly.
Nobody visited me, not in juvi, not in my group homes and not in the foster homes. Most of the other kids would go home on weekend passes or at least have frequent visits. After a while I got used to it. Used to birthdays coming and going like any other day. No one to depend on, no one depending on me... I found myself... free.

My story in a nut shell.

Born in southern California to two cult members, I quickly became a ward of the courts and was adopted by the time I was three and a half. When the adoption failed due to abuse, I found myself once again in the "system" bouncing from foster home to foster home, in and out of group homes and juvenile hall until the age of sixteen. At that point I was returned to my adoptive parents and abandoned to the streets within the same day. Eventually I became one of Hollywood's many homeless youth. And, as many of the kids in LA, I ended up addicted to meth.

I find myself today, sitting in my home, in a cold state far away. A home I bought with my husband two years ago. A home that shelters the heads of my two beautiful children (one of whom is only two months old this week). I find my self blessed. I graduated college about five years ago and have a great job. In the next few months I plan on staying home with my baby for as long as possible. He's beautiful just like his sister who will turn twelve this year.