Hotel Tiff

It's been 4 1/2 days since my 4th teen ran away (not all have been runaways). She ran on Halloween - the night before her big court date. She's somewhere on the streets in a vacant apartment building with her identical teen.

Her clothes and belongings are still in my home. I haven't even cleaned up yet, and DSS called with another placement. I'm still emotionally attached to her.

When I explained that my teen is missing and I still have her things, the worker persisted, "But she's AWOL, right? We need a bed. It's just respite, Ms. Bright."

And just like that, my former foster daughter, current runaway, is pushed to the side.

PTSD

Nearly a year of being a licensed foster parent, and I'd had only 2 respite experiences. Both teenage girls: one 17 years and the other 16. Tough. Traumatic.  Neither experience lasted more than 3 days.

My 3rd teen arrived a month away from the expiration of my license. Her problems were similar to my own. I accepted immediately and hoped for permanency.

We haven't fully completed week 3, and I feel as if I've fought a war.I've been beaten.  I've wanted to blog daily, but most times I haven't even been able to find the words. When I can find the words, I'm too exhausted to type.

In 2 weeks, 5 days, I've called the police twice and the crisis hotline once. We've shopped, made dinner and fellowshipped together. We've argued. We've loved. We've talked. And talked. And talked. And argued again.

But tonight? I'm simply weary. She hasn't communicated with me in 7 hours. For the 2nd day in a row, she hasn't returned home when she was due.

I've declared her a missing child (the 2nd time doing such in 2.5 weeks).

Granted, I'm dramatic. But quite honestly, I feel as if I've been battling in my own home. My peace is disrupted.

I pray for guidance, direction, forgiveness  and patience.

I just don't know what else to do.

Let Yourself Off the Hook

 JayJay (BabyGirl's puppy) and Maxwell (right).

I haven't been able to write. There was so much involved with BabyGirl; I was drained emotionally. Every aspect of her life is troubled. But in my home, in the space that we shared, she was a nearly perfect teen.

As briefly as I can (and I'm long-winded), BabyGirl returned to her foster family, nearly 2 weeks ago. Her time with me was short - a weekend  of respite care. She didn't want to leave me. I wanted her to stay, but I missed the solitude of my stress-free, single-woman life and quiet home.

Fast forward to now: There were problems in BabyGirl's foster home, which lead to her removal and placement in a group home. She tried to reach out to me, but I missed her calls.

I was torn because I want to help her. I want to be involved in her life and making her a stronger person. But her problems are so heavy. There are so many and they are so profound; I don't know if I have the energy to be everything that she needs me to be. Other than love and strength, I am not able to be warden, nurse, psychiatrist, doctor, mother and friend to this child.

But I feel as though I gave up before fighting. I feel that this is why I signed up: to become a foster parent/mentor to the 1 child no one else wants. How can I back away from this teen because she's a challenge? That would make me a failure. That would make me like every other foster parent in this child's life. That would make me disingenuous. And this child would be shuffled again and again until she turns 18 and "ages out of the system."

I felt pressure from the Mister (man/boyfriend/significant other) to rescue BabyGirl from the group home and the constant shifting her life has become. 

In truth, I was leaning more toward passiveness. So I called one of my best confidantes. And God bless Ether Girl for giving me the words to grow on.

She told me that I can't save every child in the system; she told me that I didn't create BabyGirl's problems, and I wouldn't solve them alone. "Let yourself off the hook, Tiff."

Maybe this is giving up. Or maybe this is my realization that BabyGirl is more than I can handle or help.