I write articles and present in front of people all of the time, and it is always the hardest to write for my peers.  Do I go serious with a guest post?  Or do I go funny?  My goal is to impart some sort of wisdom gleaned from a quarter of a century of experience.  My other goal was to try and use the least amount of exclamation marks as possible.  You probably have enough people shouting at you.  I’ll start with a few of my thoughts that occur throughout the day.

“One step at a time”, “day by day”, “feared things first”, “Follow a To-do List”, “Compartmentalize that pain”, “You can do it”, “You can’t do it”, “Will I ever get over it?”, “Your story wasn’t as bad as others”, “What happened to you was wrong”, “Your feelings are valid”, “Your feelings are not valid”, “You are special”, “You are not special”, “I’m a survivor”, “I feel so fragile”, “Be Productive”, “Be Functional”, “Mind your finances”, “You are beautiful”, “You are awesome”, “You suck”, “You can do this”, 

The above is how I self-talk.  The way you self-talk may look different.  It is how I get up in the morning, it is how I get my work done and it is how I plug along.  Some days I feel so honored to be a former foster youth, and other days I just wish the baggage would dig itself a hole and disappear.  It leaves me feeling drained and fragile.  Yet, something inside of me keeps me going, keeps me climbing that mountain.  There is something special inside all of us that keep us going.  We survive, we strive, we lift, and we throw down.  We keep our head up. 

If you are a former foster youth reading this, you already have survival skills.  Move over Bear Grylls!  Some of these survival skills are really hard to turn off because they have served you very well.  Here’s a life example, one of my personality traits is that I’m a pleaser.  It served me well as a survival tactic, because it made working with foster parents and case-workers easier.  They naturally liked me and I was considered “low-maintenance.”  It has served me so well, that I have wrapped my self-worth up in my ability to please or assimilate.  It has also made me loyal to a fault, if I can’t make a relationship work; it is because I wasn’t able to please enough.  I wasn’t good enough, or there was ultimately something I was doing wrong.  I worked very hard to gain my foster parents love, acceptance and approval.  That is not something you can simply turn off. 

As you transition out of care, you are going to have lot of emotion.  You may move from surviving in one system to surviving in another.  If you are no longer in a situation where you are simply “surviving,” you need to grieve, because you don’t have the time to acknowledge it while you are experiencing it.  I attend therapy on a pretty regular basis and I talk constantly about how I am feeling.  The act of figuring this out has me being more forgiving of my faults.  The self-talk I listed above, comes from years of negativity from the people around me, so in grieving I’m learning how dead wrong they are.  I’m a survivor and I know you are too.  

The next day of the rest of your life…

This just in: Life isn’t a fairytale. Life, as it turns out, has no happily ever after. Even after the harrowing escape, the chance to start new, the hope for a future, the sun still rises the next day.

Things continue to change, and they always will. Life bears far more resemblance to a series of books than an uplifting movie—-no matter how satisfying the end to a chapter may be, that’s all it is. The end of a chapter. A way of moving from one event to the next, with almost a comical consistency. What happened in the past eventually only has the relevance of leading up to what happened next.

Life is a lot of things. As best I can tell, living is the art of moving between those things without getting frustrated.

Thought I was going to say life is transition, didn’t you? That’s for the end of the series, people!

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Right.

Work, school, rinse, repeat.

No sleep, but dreams—-

Work, and work, and eat.

Ignore the past.

No rest.

Achieve.

February,

March,

And now it’s spring.

Work, school, rinse, repeat.

Ignore fatigue.

All the same to me.

Work, school, rinse, repeat.

When will I have time to breath?

Work, school, it’s all on me.

April, May, this is hard to believe.

June, July.

Work, working.

Work, work.

I’m starting to forget things.

August.

August.

This is harder than it seemed.

This month is my birthday.

“How are you celebrating?”

Work.

School.

Basically nothing.

September, October—-

School has returned…

The opportunity to move forward,

More achievements to earn,

Then why do I feel,

That somehow I’ve been burned.

Robbed of real living.

Another lesson learned.

Work, School, rinse, repeat.

It’s starting to hurt.

Work, School, rinse, repeat.

December and June looked the same to me.

The sneaking feeling,

That I need to do something.

Anything,

Anything,

But work, school and repeat.

I trapped myself,

The instant I was free.

Life changed.

My next opponent was me.

_______________________________________________________________________

During year two, all I wanted to do was establish that I could be dedicated to my job, and to school. Good traits to have, but not at the expense of actually living. I had no social life. I didn’t trust anyone to not throw off my relentless pattern. I didn’t treat myself like a human being—-all I was here for was to be the youth who never missed work due to being out late, who didn’t miss an assignment, who didn’t care about always being asked to stay the extra shift, who didn’t bother with silly things like holidays or birthdays.

I was still just trying to keep my head down. And I burnt out.

To be honest, I didn’t transition well to the next set of challenges. I wasn’t prepared to deal with me, learn to value myself a bit more, allow myself to develop ambition and go for things for a reason other than satisfying others or having the pitiful satisfaction of not being the ‘trouble kid’.

So year two blurred by, and I got nothing but tired.

Another one that won’t quite make it. Right?

The first day of the rest of your life…

Hindsight gets involved a little bit here, because now I know far more than I knew just three years ago. Three years ago, I really wasn’t much more than a product of my environments. Environments, with an ‘s’ because sadly there was a lot of moving around going on. Environments which included an unstable, disintegrating family, and abuse in most of its varied forms.

I wasn’t much more than a young man who’d managed to stay out of trouble (for the most part) in his stay in group homes—-a young man who so often, even to this day, accidentally fits into the mold of ‘the good kid’. Back then, I didn’t understand that I sort of want to show my scar, that I want people to know what being me actually entails. Back then I didn’t even understand that my scar, when it is showing, shows in the fact that my life’s ambition for too long was to stay out of everyone’s way.

Back then, I just wanted a moment of peace and safety. Somewhere to hide. Life was that list of bad things I woke up every day attempting to avoid, and little more. Then, life starting happening to me again. Frighteningly fast… but it went something like this:

______________________________________________________

February ‘08: “Why don’t I have a valentine?” Basically, nothing better to think about.

April ‘08: “Am I seriously going to be in this group home for another year plus?” It might have been the end of the world. Seriously.

June ‘08: “Yay I’m graduating! Turns out they found some credits, and I’m a senior, and I get to be a senior for a whole week and then I graduate! Yay!” Wait for it…

July ‘08: “How do you lose credits anyway?” Wait for it…

August ‘08: “Yay I got to move to an ‘independent living’ group home! And I’m turning 18!” …aaaaaaand now.

Late August ‘08: “Aw cool I get to start my first semester at college which will require me taking a bus and train two hours each way, while securing my first real jobs and preparing to move out on my own soon!” Wait, no, yield to optimism… how long will that last?

October ‘08: “… oh $#!%” There it is. The moment you realize you’re ‘transitioning’ from being a youth in a highly restrictive group home, to being out in the world generally solo far before you’re ready.

“Before I was ready,” turned out to be December of ‘08. I moved into my first apartment (where I’ve been for the past three years) with all of my possessions in a few trash bags. When I think about it, those trash bags represent the #1 thing which needed to change about how I lived my life.

Never should one feel like everything they own, everything they are, everything they have to help them become something more, is so worthless that it doesn’t matter if it’s simply tossed into a few trash bags.

In order to salvage something out of the hand I’d been dealt, I was going to have to pick through the trash. Maybe that was the reality. I’ve always wondered, though, what kept me from asking for luggage.

I don’t think I want to know the answer, now.

If the answer has something to do with alarming amounts of apathy, this trait DID come in handy for a few things at that time. I was going to be out on my own, but I still thought like the kid who just wanted to be invisible in the group home. So I didn’t buckle under the pressure, because I was so eager to please. I didn’t try to make any connections, other than those which allowed me to mindlessly cycle between work and school as smoothly as possible.

So the following months went something like this…

December ‘08: “Yay! My very own apartment!” Actually, that’s still pretty sweet.

January ‘09: “I need a job.”

February ‘09: “I got a job.” Followed before the month was out with ‘I hate my job’

Late February ‘09: “Work. School. Rise. Repeat. Everything will be fine now. Right?” Right?

Hello, world!  Chris is busy preparing to take over the internets with his newest Life Is Transition series of blog posts.  While he’s in the lab, I’m going to share a guest post with everyone.  

My name is Justin Lee; I’ve been lucky enough to be a supporter of the Pennsylvania Youth Advisory Board (YAB) since 2001.  I currently serve as the statewide coordinator of the YAB where I serve as a professional link for YAB members to help them get their work done.  Check the website at www.independentlivingpa.org.

Throughout my career, I’ve worked with older youth transitioning out of the child welfare system.  I’ve seen a lot.  I may have seen it all; there’s been youth sleeping on friend’s couches not sure how long they’ll be able to stay; youth reuniting with family they haven’t seen since childhood; youth (a lot) being accepted into higher education as the first in their family; and youth battling every type of adversity you can imagine.  

There’s one common thread that connects all of these youth: they are an inspiration to me.  

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I will bet my bottom dollar and put these youth up against ANYONE to succeed in life.  In the media, we usually hear about people living in poverty or those that are disadvantaged looking for “handouts.”  I’ve worked with older youth in and out of the child welfare system for over a decade and I have yet to meet one looking for a “handout.”  I’ve actually seen the opposite; youth that want to succeed on their own terms by any means necessary.  More often than not, I spend my time trying to convince 19 year olds that they don’t have to be Superwoman or Superman.  

At 34 years old, I’ve realized these young people that have faced horrible circumstances in their lives, and I mean horrible, have more courage and resiliency than 99% of the population.  YAB members and all of their brothers and sisters in the child welfare system aren’t just survivors - they’re winners.  Sometimes, the win doesn’t come on time.  There’s also times when the losses happen many times before the wins start coming.  

Know this: the wins will come for all of these young people.  No doubt.  

I could stay shouting on this soapbox all day but I won’t.  I’ll end with this - thank you.  Thank you for energizing me in the cause.  Thank you for inspiring me.  Thank you for teaching me about the power of the human spirit and resiliency.  Thank you for being you.  

Peace and best wishes.  Oh yeah, one more thing, when you’re a CEO of your own company or a millionaire try to remember me and hook a brother up!    

Hello fellow Transitionees!

Yes, I’m still alive. And yes, you were promised complete stories of all of the events leading up to the September post (which I will make good on, double promise) but oddly enough life doesn’t seem to want to pause so that I can collect myself and tell the story.

It’s almost as though the story is better told in-media-res (that would be from the middle of the action or as it happens for all you non writernerds out there) in some form of less formal format which could be updated in weekly or even daily installations…

Novel concept, right?

Well ironically I’m going to start off the exploration of this concept by noting an anniversary: I have been out of care now for three years.

It’s funny—-I don’t even really celebrate my own birthday (well I did this year, because it just happened to be my 21st birthday and that’s something worth a nice legal hurrah) and I’m not too big on holidays or other events which usually cause a stir on their annual appearance… but early December is always quietly important to me.

Three years ago, in early December, I left the ‘system’ behind. No more group homes. No more forced therapy sessions. No more forced medication. No more false hope that somehow, at the end of all of this, I’d be going home. The reality was that I was leaving all of that behind for a new place I’d eventually call home, a new list of trials and troubles, and a very interesting three years leading up to now.

So this year, to honor the anniversary and finally give some context into what got me here, I’m going to tell the story. The whole story, as best as I can. One post a week for the month of December (not counting this one), with the last week of the month being an actual what’s happening right now post.

Remember folks: Life is Transition—-and it can be very difficult to transition to something, if you haven’t quite put together where you’re transitioning from.

Check back for more.

“Hello again fellow transitionees. I’m writing to let you know that I will no longer be updating this Blog.

                That’s right, transitioning has ended for me, and I now have absolutely nothing to write to you about. I have finished transitioning. It’s over.”

Were it so easy.

                The above was a joke. I’m going to give you an update in brief of what has actually been happening in my life since my last post in… Well let’s not talk about how long ago that was.

WASHINGTON DC:

                “Chris, you went to Washington?”

                Yes.

                “What’d you do there?”

                Awesome NYTD (National Youth In Transition) Survey conference, at which I was the youth representative for Pennsylvania. There were other youth and staff from all over the country, with forty-something states present, and someone from Puerto Rico.

                “Well, Chris. That’s pretty cool. Why didn’t you tell us about this?”

                I dunno. I’ll share more shortly.

Pennsylvania Independent Living Youth Retreat:

                “Hey Chris, how was that retreat you never shut up about?”

                It was awesome. A week of fun and exhibits of inspiring talent from IL youth hailing from all across the state, and awesome keynote speech at the Banquet—-a spiffy banquette where everyone got all dressed up (some fine looking people, these PA youth…)—-a talent show, a dance, some good ol’ fashion competition in various forms. I’d say it went pretty well.

                “That’s nice, Chris. I see you’re already revved up to talk about it for the next year. Can we ask another question, though?”

                Yeah sure.

                “Why didn’t you post about that too?”

                Next question please.

Focus Group with Group Home:

                Before you ask, I’m going to write more about this.

                “Woah. Was that initiative?”

                It’s important. Next question.

Hurricane Lee:

                “There was a hurricane?”

                Do you live under a rock?

                “Yes, after the earthquake.”

                Touche`.

                “That’s rude.”

                It’s French.

                “You’re excused.”

                Aren’t I supposed to be the one with the snarky sense of humor here, oh reader?

                “Really. I hear you live next to the Schuylkill…”

                I lived in the Schuylkill, briefly. I assure you I did not drown.

                “Is everything alright?”

                A night in a shelter, met some really cool Red Cross people, got a free refugee blanket, met all of the people in my apartment complex who I never spoke to before, lost a tiny bit of cynicism at the amount of good will I saw that day. All in exchange for a somewhat soggy carpet—-think I made out alright.

                “So what you’re saying is, you laptop wasn’t on the floor. So you were entirely capable of posting during that.”

                Next question.

School:

                “Back in classes? How’s that going?”

                I’m going to post about the difference between online courses and actually having to show up for class. But, this semester I actually have to show up for classes—-which, I’m coming to understand, is actually in exchange for doing real work. See, in the online courses I took over the spring and summer we had regular assignments which were moderately time consuming and some of which actually required me to know what I was doing on. That difficulty is stripped, and replaced with an attendance grade.

                “Still on that ‘participation shouldn’t count’ horse, are you…”

                Yep.

                “You know you’re wrong, right?”

                Yep.

                “Would an accusation of laziness offend you?”

                Yep.

                “Next question?”

                Next question.

Flooding (Round 2):

                “Wow.”

                That’s what I said.

Work:

                “Still the most fulfilling part of your life?”

                Word to the Pennsylvania Child Welfare Training Program.

                “Have you done what you said in an earlier post and started balancing work/necessities with the things you WANT to do?”

                So, I got to do this cool Webinar thing recently. New experience, speaking to a large group of people I can’t see was sort of—-

                “Is that your way of saying ‘next question’ again?”

                Yep.

Personal Life:

                Next question.

                “This is the next question.”

                Still a transition. Figuring out housing changes in the near future, figuring out where I want to go with the whole college bit, figuring out where I stand with my often-absentee family, figuring out whether I’m happily distracted with plenty of tasks or distractedly unhappy with tasks that I need to do quicker.

                “That’s pretty vague.”

                Tell me about it.

                “Are you going to post more?”

                Yes.

                “Is there anything we can do to help?”

                Yes.

                “What’s that?”

                The ‘Ask Me Anything’ feature is pretty neat. It allows you to ask me anything. I’m not required to answer, but you do have the option to ask me anything.

                “Anything else?”

                Nope. Just check back for more.

Remember: Life is Transition. So on a blog about someone Transitioning, it’s pretty absurd that they can’t at least throw up a happening or two as an update.

The ‘Ask Me Anything’ feature works. Right side of the page.

Greetings fellow Transitionees. If you’re here, you’re used to reading a lot of references to presentations and meetings—-that’s because that’s what I spend most of my meaningful time doing.

It gives me the chance to observe people in a unique setting, which I suppose I should be grateful for. It’s one thing to observe people when they know they’re being observed, or even when they don’t—-but a chance to observe people when they’re observing you is unique.

While everyone is sitting there staring, I’m usually staring right back. I’ve noticed, in a far less scientific manner than Color Q, that there are about… three to five types of people in any given crowd.

#1: Zombies

They stare. They stare, and they stare, and sometimes their mouths are even part way open. They look as though they might want to eat you, or that the next thing from their mouths is likely to be “Braaaaaains….”. These people are either paying attention to everything you’re saying, or they’re trying to figure out in their zombified minds how fast they would have to shamble to catch you.

Effects of making eye contact with one of these individuals in the audience range from mild hypnosis and paranoia to moderate self consciousness and memory loss.

#2: Nodders

Nodders have to be my favorite type of person in the universe, when I’m presenting. Theory has it that Nodders actually absorb the energy which allows Zombies to remain so still, to fuel their enthusiasm. They will nod about everything you say. They are extremely happy to see you, so happy in fact that they agree with every syllable you have to tell them whether or not it was in fact a lucent thought.

If ever you are lacking for confidence, find the nearest Nodder in the crowd, and think a happy thought. For example:

An awkward pause after losing train of thought. You continue to speak, but can’t help the thought, “I pulled that off, right?”

You find your nearest Nodder. He/She nods.

Effects of interaction with a Nodder can include confidence boosts, out of place smiles while presenting, ‘counter nodding’—-a disorder which causes a nod in response to the Nodder. See: Agreeing with Agreeing with Yourself.

#3: Mrs/Mr Blackberry

You’re a good person, and a good presenter. You’re sure they have a very busy life, or something very interesting is happening on Facebook. You’re not sure what it is, but you wouldn’t dare think that what you’re saying is actually more important than the constant deluge of correspondence they have the rest of their day—-and in fact, the rest of their lives—-to take care of.

You will smile when they make eye contact by mistake and then look back down at their phone. And you will pretend that they are not in the audience. Because you are good at what you do. You’ll tell yourself you’re not offended, and then you’ll look at a Nodder to agree with you while imagining the Zombies will maul them.

Ah, those Nodders.

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There are sub categories, of course. I might go back to this later. The Severe Nodder is an evolution of the Nodder, and the Squinter/Scowler is a somehow more alarming offshoot of the Zombie breed.

I’ll get around to it.

Remember: Life is transition. And if you ever doubt that, say it to a Nodder. They agree with you.

THIS JUST IN

Marriage and Families: C+ Final

Ethics and Policy in Social Services: B Final
______________________________________________________________

Hello fellow Transitionees. Have you learned anything today? I have. Today I learned something entirely underwhelming: I am not an A student.

Usually, in pursuit of that feeling that I completely aced a course, I’d either freak out or fall into a slump about half way through any given course. Because I wasn’t going to get an A.

Would you like to know the most useful thing I’ve learned in college thus far? Prepare to have your mind blown.

I can graduate without an A average.

I know, right? Woah. I’d like to be an A student. But I’m not. Sometimes I’ll miss an assignment, sometimes I’ll do an assignment with approximately enough attentiveness to it to say I did it, sometimes I’ll cram the night before a test. Sometimes I’ll cram the day of a test. Sometimes, I’ll cram the instant before an open book test (skim through things, highlight keywords so I know where to go when I see the word/subject in a question—-it works, trust me… best way I’ve ever found to circumvent actually knowing what you’re talking about). And you know what? That’s okay.

Does it make me a role model? Yes. It does. Because some of us are A students. Some of us can keep up consistent, high grade work all of the time—-or at least enough of the time that, by any measure, it’s kept up all of the time. However, A students would be so special if it weren’t for the fact that by all logical reasoning, not everyone can attain that score.

There is a method to being an A student. There is a method, no easier to learn, to being a B student. Or in my case, a strong C student. I have learned that, despite the fact that I have a thoroughly average work ethic and attention to detail, I should at least show up to class and do the assignments in all my average scoring glory.

Because there is really only one way to get an F.

Now, this blog is about Transition, right? Transition and all of the things that happen to one blogger in particular during the course of said Transition. So what does this have to do with Transition? Not everyone chooses the schooling route in their Transition, what’s this mean for them?

Life is Transition. Life is also graded on a curve, believe it or not. No matter what you’re doing—-work, school, both, parenting, friendships, hobbies—-you’re being graded. The only way to guarantee a big mean F is to clam up because it’s not looking as perfect as you’d hoped it would.

Chances are, if you just keep at it, you’ll get it out of it with a C. And hey, that’s passing.