This is a true story of my life. My name is Joe.

Many years ago, on a nice day, my sister and I were outdoors playing at 8: 00 in the evening. My parents drove up in their real old Chevy Beretta. My parents ordered my sister and I into the house. Once we were in the house I knew what was going to happen next.

The story with my parents was that they are both alcoholics and when they were mad they would take their anger out on my sister and me. They would physically abuse us and we would go to school with bruises all over our bodies. One day in September the whole family had to go to court. My sister and I had to sit in the waiting area for four hours before my parents came out of the court room. My parents looked like they were about the cry. My parents told us that the court had taken custody away from them and given it to D.S.S. (Department of Social Services).

I was taken away from my parents at the age of nine.

That night my sister and I were told that we were going to be placed in foster homes. Two hours later I was unpacking my belongings in a foster home located in another town. I didn't like it because the people there were not very nice to me. It took me two weeks to get someone to realize that I didn't enjoy living with these people. My social worker took me out of that foster home after I trashed my room and was thrown out by the people. I was then placed in another foster home. I liked the people a lot and got along with everyone in the family. But after two years the parents were getting divorced and that meant that I could not stay with them anymore. I was really depressed when I left this home and was put into another foster home in another state.

I lived in this home for four months when I received a call from my social worker that someone was interested in adopting me. I was very glad and couldn't wait for the next day when I was to meet him. The next morning I met my new father at a restaurant for breakfast. He was single, and had never had a child. The man seemed nice and I thought that my troubles were over. I moved into my new home three days later.

I lived there for six months, after which I went to court with my father, was adopted, and my last name changed to his. After another few months things began changing. My father was never in a good mood. I was going to school and was doing very well. But after a few months my father and I began having arguments about the smallest things. Sometimes these arguments would get out of hand and my father would wrestle me out the door. I would get thrown out of my house in the middle of winter. I started doing poorly in school and I became utterly depressed. Once school was over I went to a summer camp. After camp my father told me that we were moving to another town.

My father wanted to move because he owned a business there. So I started school in a new town. My father began coming home late when he told me to be home at three in the afternoon. After a while I began coming home later because I felt really alone in the house by myself. Things got worse and I began running away from home. After a while my father put a CHINS petition on me ("CHINS" stands for a Child In Need of Services). After a while I got so mad at my father that I stole one of his cars and drove it all the way to Maine. I was arrested in Maine with nine charges against me. My father didn't even know I was gone until the next day when he found the car missing from the driveway. My father was called and he had to come pick me up. After that my father put me into a psychiatric hospital where I lived for five weeks. When I was released, I was put into a shelter where I stayed for a month and then I went to another shelter. After a month of living there I was placed in another foster home where I am now living and where I will be living until I am 18 years old. I am 14 years old.n



Editor's Note: Joe (not his real name) had one type of experience as a foster child. Write us your's, but please try not to mention names or places where you lived, since everyone's privacy should be protected.