Lord forgive me, I couldn’t stand this last teen.
She’s 18, a victim of rape and incest (by her biological father), and cast out
by both sides of her family (her mother is deceased).
Her background is what made me sympathetic to her. But her
personality, lack of logic, extreme laziness and hard-headedness made me
dislike her.
She only got as far as the 9th grade in high school. From my
home, she could metro to the beauty school where she was enrolled. She was
placed with me for just over a week – until DSS could find another placement –
one that was near her school with lower transportation costs.
When her worker brought her the first night, we all talked
rules and expectations. She was given $145 to use for transportation. The next
day she returned home with $12. She bought a new cell phone and new headphones.
Over and over again, I tried telling her how irresponsible that was. She
insisted it wasn’t. She actually has a government-issued cell phone that was
out of minutes (although she can make calls with wi-fi). Rather than buy a $25
visa gift card and reload her phone, she spent it all on a new phone with a
monthly bill.
When she refused to even hear/understand what an irresponsible
choice she’d made, that moment made me realize she was incapable of reasoning. She
couldn’t see past the moment. I tried to break down to her the cost of
commuting to her school and the return trip. She refused to understand.
I tried to teach her to organize her things at night: Lay
out your clothes; pack your lunch; take your shower; put your school bags by
the door. Yeah, no. She’d get distracted by the damn phone. Or the tv. Or she’d
start playing with Max. Anything but what I told her to do.
If I told her to go left, she went right. If I told her to
put something down, she’d pick it up. I had to constantly repeat myself. I get
it – most teens have to be told repeatedly to do something. But this simpleton
had to be told 10 times to take a shower.
I tried reasoning. Giving her a schedule. We need to be out
of the house in an hour. Get up, get dressed, have breakfast, make up your bed,
clean your breakfast dishes. She might have attention deficit disorder because
when I gave her more than 3 things to do, she’d stand lost in thought. Or she’d
just sit there. Or she’d start singing to herself or her phone.
On Friday, she talked to the administrators of her beauty
school about assistance with transportation costs. When they told her no, she
asked for a leave of absence. And they withdrew her from the school (she’d had
too many previous LOAs).
And of course, she had no game plan. And no money. All
weekend long I encouraged her to think of some activity she could do outside of
my house while I’m at work. (I damn sure wasn’t leaving her unsupervised in my
home.) She couldn’t come up with a single plan. But Sunday night she damn sure
schemed how she could go hang out with some dude (which I still don’t
understand because she’s gay); and of course she wanted me to be her driver.
This morning, I reached my boiling point this morning. I
woke her up at 7 a.m. and told her we needed to leave at 8 a.m. It took until
7:30 a.m. with me constantly telling her to get up before she actually got her
ass moving. By that time I’d called her worker and my worker on their personal
cell phones. And I texted her worker and said I wanted to expedite her leaving
my house (although her deadline to leave was tomorrow).
When I finally talked to her caseworker about what was
happening, she had no surprise. That’s when I learned she’d been in several
homes since the summer – and she’d bounced from house to house for the same
reasons. (When I get ‘hold of my caseworker, I’m gonna let her have it for not
telling me this.) She’d been obstinate and lazy in the other homes. Hmph. The
caseworker said I could bring her to DSS this morning.
So then I told her to pack her clothes and take her bags to
door. While I finished my morning work, she took another shower, dallied in the
bathroom, played on her phone, chilled on the bed. So of course it’s 8 a.m. and
she hasn’t packed a damn thing. Ironically, I woke her at 7, knowing we wouldn’t
leave ‘til 9. But when I realized she still hadn’t moved, I took her cell
phone. Told her she wouldn’t get it back until I was finished showering and
could see movement.
And of course, when I was half-dressed, she still hadn’t
taken her bags to the door. I think subconsciously she didn’t want to leave.
But she was no longer welcome in my life and home. I helped her gather her
stuff and toted her back to DSS.
It’s crazy because I took her “back” like she was a
defective product. But I’m learning to put myself first when I foster in my
home. And it’s becoming more and more difficult to keep accepting these teens.
I’ve learned not to expect them to “realize how good they’ve
got it.” I don’t need that from them. Most times the teens come from such awful
places, they’re incapable of understanding or appreciating when life is better.
They’re sometimes like battered women who keep returning to abusers – they seek
pain to validate their lives or to feel something, anything. Or they sabotage a
good home because subconsciously they’d rather push away first than be pushed
away.
But what I’m learning is that I can’t keep brushing up
against/sharing space with these abused teens. I’m burning out.
