I wrote some of this on another blog and I guess I should write it here too.
I did most of my growing up in a smaller city near Los Angeles and me and my mom moved up to northern California after my dad went to prison the second time. I had an older brother but he got into drugs like my dad and died when I was 14. I don't talk about him much just because we were never close and I just don't want to talk about it is all. But I use to have a brother.
My dad was a truck driver once and he started using meth so he could work longer hours and then it became all about the drugs. He got caught and went to prison for three years and then was out on parole and that was the worst time of my life.
When someone goes to prison they lose their rights but what most of you don't ever know is the person's whole family loses their rights too. Life was hell with him on parole because we had the parole officers, local cops, and social workers in the house all the time and anytime they wanted. It didn't matter if he wasn't home they would just bust in and search everything including my stuff and just toss it all over the place. When he skipped parole and ran away it got worse because then the parole people were busting in the door all the time looking for him. It would be 3am or 4am when they would come and they would handcuff me and my mom and they would search for him and search our stuff. I had a cell phone and a computer but they took them and then said I never had any so I never got them back. That's why I didn't care about having a computer until I got one last Christmas.
The LA County social workers were the worst part. They act like fucking gods and always threatened to put me in foster care and one of them tried to get me to sleep with him. I told at my school and it stopped but no one believed me because it was the wonderful social worker against the daughter of a fugitive. And school was bad because the social workers would pull me out of class all the time to 'counsel' me and it was just to mess with my mind and mess me up at school. I mean they would come to the school just to embarrass me in front of everyone. The school found out my dad was a meth head so that meant I was too. As if the social workers were not bad enough the school security people were ALWAYS stopping me and searching my stuff. It got so bad I just cut school as often as I could and then with enough bad grades I got into independent study so I didn't have to deal with school anymore. I read a story in the paper not so long ago that more than half of the social workers in the county had felonies on their criminal record! Some were even registered sex offenders and they were working with little kids! I am not surprised because they act like criminals all the time anyway.
If you have not guessed I HATE social workers anymore. I can forgive a lot of things and a lot of people but social workers who think they are all that and who have this authority that no one ever questions are just cockroaches to me. I'm not supposed to be happy about it when bad things happen to bad people but when bad social workers get justice I smile about it.
I can understand the parole officers and the cops a little because they have to assume a criminals family would be helping him but the social workers are suppose to HELP you and they ALWAYS want to ruin everything! I stopped having friends because they wanted to know who my friends were and then they would go see my friends and their parents and ask them if I was doing drugs or anything and then after that my friends would not see me anymore because they thought I was as bad as my dad.
When my father went back to prison things got better and my mom moved us to northern California to get away from the LA County social workers. In Sacramento we got visited one time and the social worker said everything looked fine so she never bothered us again. With my dad back in prison we didn't have parole people around anymore either. When I found out he got denied parole until 2026 I was SOOOOOOOO happy about it! I don't EVER want his problems in my life again and I would scream if parole officers came here to look for him.
My mom and me are getting along better since I moved out but we didn't talk a lot for a lot of years. When she divorced my dad and left LA was when I was the proudest of her. It was hard for her to do all that but she did it to leave all the problems behind and start over and both of us are starting over.
My new life is not perfect I know but for me this is still paradise compared to what I am use to. No one yells here. No one steals my money to buy drugs. No one steals my stuff to sell for drugs. There are no cops here at 3am. No social workers. None of the people I know here punish me because my father is an asshole who loves his drugs more than anything else.
In this house I can put a $100 dollar bill on my place in the closet and no one will touch it. No one will even ask me about it and that means no one was in my stuff. I know because I tried that when I moved here and it was one of the little things that told me this was a good place to be. If the $100 disappeared then I was going to disappear too. It is still there.
I don't think I will be answering any questions about any of this. I want it behind me is all but I guess I needed to say all of this just to get it out there.