cantonese chow mein

I am an 18 year old ex-ward of the state. For those of you who donapos;t know what that means, it means this: I was abused by my real mother and the year of my 11th birthday, Child and Family Sevices picked me and my little brothers�up and took�us from the only home we ever knew.

Everything I owned was left behind but some ratty clothes and a teddy bear. What followed was that we were taken to my Aunts house where my brothers stayed a couple of das, and then were taken somewhere else. I lived there for a few months until she got rid of me. She never told me why, and I have not spoken more than two or three words to her since.

From my aunts house, I was taken to a foster home in Laurel, where I met one of the greatest people I know, Renee.

I went to middle school in Laurel, made some great friends, but soon, I began to have emotional problems, and the placement started to fall apart. Just when I thought all hope was lost, my uncle in Alabama called and said that he would love to have me in his home.

Renee flew down to Alabama with me to meet my Uncle Rusty. After a week, Renee returned to Montana. My new life was to finally begin.

Or so I thought.

My grandfather, Ross Little, was sick with cancer. Having lost my father to the same dreaded disease not long before, I feared the worst. My Uncle was also afraid. He had just lost his brother, and now he was expected to give up his father as well?

Well, as you can expect, my uncle became clinically depressed. He couldnapos;t hold a job, he had no energy, and on top of it all, his marriage was falling down around his ears. That, coupled with my problems at home and school, was it. My grandfather perished of�the disease eating at his already frail body, and�the funeral was held. Not�long after that, I was told I was going back to�Montana, to a group home.�My stay there was over.

I arrived back in Montana, and was brought to Bach group home. I loved it there. I made many friends there, some of whom I am still in contact with. But, as with all my other placements, it was not to last. I ran away to keep from hurting my best friend, and the group home staff decided it was time for me to go.

I was sent to a group home in Missoula, closer to the family who had taken my brothers, who was also going to take me. The group home was very strict(no tv, video gamesor anything, ever), so as you might guess, I rebelled. I was there a week, and then they shipped me off to a mental facilty for children in Butte.

K.B.H. Kidapos;s Behavioural Health of Butte, MT. I have many fond memories of that place. I stayed there for 9 months, very long months in which I cried, fought, and watched others get to leave, while I was still left behind, the little waif with a huge amount of spitfire and fight. Iwas the last child there to ever be put *apos;in bucketsapos; before the state ruld it inhumane. I was also only the 3rd person, in the institutions entire history, to escape them.

I worked my treatment, and discharged frm KBH with all my goals met and many friends.

However, I recieved some bad news. The family that adopted my brothers? They didnapos;t want me. I thought I was finished.

I will finish my story in my next entry.


*In institutions such as KBH, it was common to strap unruly patients down to their beds with a series of leather straps an metal buckles. These straps and such were kept in large, blue, Tupperware tubs, hence the name, apos;in bucketsapos;.
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