The year I turned six, my life changed forever. My family and I went out of state for Thanksgiving. We were meeting up with friends my parents hadn't seen in years. We stayed for a couple of days, enjoyed stories, and shared memories of the days before my siblings and I were born. Soon, with a stomach filled with Thanksgiving turkey and glowing from the rays of the holiday, we found ourselves back on the road, making our way home. Unfortunately, a drunk driver met us on our way back. They swerved onto our side of the road, hitting us head-on. A couple of days later, I woke up in a hospital bed to find that my family: my mom, my dad, and my siblings were gone. I was the only one left alive.
At six, I had to deal with this tragedy. Alone.
I found myself in the foster care system and bounced around from family to family. I was still grieving. I wasn't ready to accept that my family was gone, and I didn't want another family either. For a long time, none of it felt real, and then one day, it was. It felt like I was in a daze going through my life. I was in a nightmare, and before I knew it, I was 14 years old, and I'd finally hit the bottom of what seemed like an endless pit. I'd been sinking since the day I was sent to my first foster family. Eight years of falling, not knowing if I would be able to see daylight again.
I have to admit I wasn't the easiest kid to care for, and I pushed many foster families away. Some altercations even got physical.
Then I found the family for me, at least I thought they were. They seemed perfect, and everyone liked them. They had experience with many foster kids before I got to them, and they were known for handling what the social workers called 'hard cases.' I'd convinced myself that this would be a second chance to pull myself up. The social workers were confident that I would get the stability that I deserved. A perfect result all around.
But we all know that there is no such thing as perfect. My new foster parents weren't the perfect people. They were far from it.
The husband had a thing for young girls. I did tell the social workers, but it seemed that I would have an easier time convincing them the closet in my bedroom led to Narnia than proving that the foster family they placed me with were monsters.
Since I had no proof, they didn't take me away, and nothing came from the initial complaint. They didn't even investigate. I decided that I needed to take things into my own hands, to prove that this was happening and make them see that I wasn't just another problem child.
So, one night, after lights out, I snuck out and bought myself a cell phone with the money I saved up. It was one of those cheap ones, the ones you have to purchase minute cards to use. I waited the next night, set up the camera, and recorded what happened. I had my evidence. The following day, when they thought I was heading to school, I took the recording to my social worker.
What happened next showed me that I couldn't trust anyone. They betrayed me. The people who were meant to protect me wanted to hide what happened. I guess they thought it was just one kid, and they didn't want it to get out that their top foster family were monsters that preyed on children in their care. In an instant, I felt like I was falling into that dank, dark pit again. I remember feeling scared and sick, my stomach churning and bile fighting its way up because just for a moment, I thought they would send me back to live with them and sweep me under the rug.
Fortunately, it did come to light. It didn't stay quiet. The couple's previous foster kids heard about what happened and came back. It turns out I wasn't the first. They told them what happened to them. It was more than enough to put them in jail.
They are still behind bars even now, with 15 or more years to go.
However, the damage was done, the betrayal I felt from the people who were meant to take care of me, from the people and service meant to protect me. I felt lost for a long time. It harmed my life and my ability to trust people around me. I couldn't trust future foster families, no matter how good they were trying to be to me. I couldn't connect with them, and eventually, I aged out of the system.
When I turned 18, when I left the care system, I'll put my hands up and admit that I had no idea what I was doing, where I was going, or how to deal with what happened. I still hung on to the hate and betrayal even after that. So, I turned to the only way I knew how to survive.
I'm not proud of what I had to do, but at the time, I felt that I had to. I started prostituting myself so that I could make it. To deal with everything, I used drugs to numb the pain of my life. It began with Oxy, and then evolved to heroin. Anything to stop the misery, stop the dreams, and the hurt I felt. It wasn't until I met someone that my life completely turned around, and I stopped spiraling.
I met him at a tough and terrible time in my life. I don't know why he put up with me and continues to do so 'til this day. At the risk of sounding really dramatic, I don't think I would be here without him. I wouldn't be here, telling my story, I don't even think I would still be alive. I wasn't the easiest person to deal with for a long time, but he stuck by me through it all.
He even stuck by me when I went to jail, and as soon as I got out, we were back together again. He has been my rock, my heart, and my soul.
That's my story. I've been sober for two years. I got the therapy I needed to get past my trauma and grief. I currently work in my fiance's pub, and I'm moving forward with my life. That's something I never thought I would do. I feel liberated, completely free of my past. Most importantly, he helped me find a way to forgive my abusers. So, here it goes:
I want the people who abused me to know that you didn't win. You tried to silence me and your other victims, and it didn't work. I hope the other people you hurt are doing just as well as I am. I hope you get the help you so desperately need while you're behind bars, and I forgive you.
I wanted to tell my story because If anyone is going through what I did, I want them to know that they aren't alone. They can get through this. Don't push people away. They can help you to get through your grief and trauma.
To my fiancee, I want to say, thank you so much, baby, for never giving up on me. You've seen me at my lowest, and never once have you turned your back on me or abandoned me. I love you so so much, and I cannot wait to see what our future holds. I don't tell you this enough, but you, Stubbard McCaw, are my rock and number one. There aren't words to adequately describe how thankful I am for you.
Finally, to anyone going through abuse and trauma, I want to say, don't be afraid to tell your story. The people who hurt you, who are hurting you now, their biggest vat of power is your silence. The monsters lose their power once you use your voice.
I believe you, and I know how hard it is to speak up, but it is absolutely worth it in the end. You're not alone in this. While it doesn't get better immediately, it does eventually. I know how it can seem like there is no light at the end of the tunnel, that there is no hope, but I promise you it is there, and you will make it.
Signed
Ivy Raebel - Saraswati