E17. Secret Out and Foster home

Together, we talk about how early trauma shapes memory, safety, and identity, and why a child can learn to survive by guarding the biggest family rule: Never, never tell!  
In this episode, a favorite staffer sits beside her on a porch and listens while Sadie says out loud what she has shielded from sight for years. Rita offers a line that changes everything: "You now have choices." That sentence becomes the first crack in shame, the first step toward foster care, and the first realization that she will be leaving people and a place that she has learned to love.
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Special Thanks to our supporters, who have made this podcast possible.

• Lucy Mathews Heegaard: Audio Engineer 
  • with music via Epidemic Sound
• Terry Gydesen: Photographer

• Polly Kellogg
• Kate Tillotson
• Dawn Charbonneau
• Jacob Wyatt
• Molly Tillotson
• Julian Bowers
• Wendy Horowitz
• Maggie Kazel
• Pat Farrell
• Lynette Tabert
• Laura Jensen
• People's Farm Collective
• Deborah Copperud of "Spock Talk" podcast

Transcript

Welcome And Story Setup

Speaker 0:03

Welcome to the Sadie Green Story about an older adult looking back on her abusive childhood. It's a conversation between Sadie and myself, Pam Colby, her longtime friend. We are exploring how early trauma can affect a lifetime. Thanks for joining us.

Montana Trip And Family Mask

Speaker 1 0:27

We are back today to talk about my second trip home from the psych ward. And this time it was for a family reunion in Montana. It's so long ago now, I it's just hard to believe all this is true. But in the story, I am getting closer to finally telling somebody the truth. Traveling to Montana, met eight kids and two adults in one old, rounded red truck, with the word Chevrolet indented on the tailgate. Pa laid a double mattress in the back. Boxes of food and other baggage were packed in around the edges. Then we all piled in to make the long trek west through South Dakota, behaving well, considering the numbers of us. There were games along the way, like pick all 50 states on license plates, or name every person a different color, and see who can match the most cars to their color by the time we get there. While still controlled, of course, family dynamics remained unusually smooth away from home. I could pretend ours was a normal family. I had clothes packed just for me. Sandwiches were distributed throughout. Once we mingled with relatives, as long as I blended in, stayed out in open spaces, and kept myself occupied, you'd never know we had so many secrets. There were those rare exceptions, like the time I was alone in the downstairs bathroom when Ma came in and shut the door behind us, whispering threats of how I best be careful, and did I think I was the Milky Way. She twisted my arm behind my back as a reminder before she left. But usually I could sit at the table like everyone else, walk down dirt streets with other girls, and sleep on cots rigged up in crowded basement rooms. I still had nightmares in bright red colors where figures raged larger than life, but that was a private ordeal, and I could handle that.

Back Home And Abandonment

Speaker 1 2:46

Back home, after Montana, was the rude awakening. Of course I wasn't welcome in the house at night. What do you think this is, a hotel room? Do you think that all's forgotten now, Miss Primadonna? Nothing changes around here. My time came for returning to the hospital, then passed without a word. A creeping hopelessness took over. Huddled in a basement corner, surely forgotten now by staff, I imagined myself starving to death. They might as well board me in and dump the dirt on top of me. Ma figured I was spoiled rotten by those smart ass city folks. She had to show us who was boss. Ignoring my return date was both a message and my punishment. According to hospital notes, when I didn't get off the bus as planned, staff paged the bus station. Then they called my doctor, and she called my parents' house. Ma told her she assumed it would be fine if I just stayed another few days. But if they wanted me back now, she'd call tomorrow with the time. She never called. The station made another call, and four days later, I showed up on the ward. I was not aware of any conversations going on between them. And honestly, I don't remember how that visit ended.

Returning To The Psych Ward

Speaker 4:13

I was so struck by how just on edge I was hearing about your visit home and especially the visit where you had to go to Montana and be with the family and try fit in after having experienced what you had down in Minneapolis. And just for me as a listener, hearing about your mom twisting your arm, getting a hold of you at some point, and just how much animosity she had or still carried around your being somebody who she saw as thinking they're smarter or better or with city people.

Speaker 1 4:53

Yeah, yeah.

Speaker 4:54

And yet she's the one who forced you out.

Speaker 1 4:57

She resisted me going for sure. Not that she loved me.

Speaker 5:02

No.

Speaker 1 5:02

But But you were under her domain. I actually do remember that visit to Montana being quite normal. I have some really good memories of that visit. And I don't know why I don't remember the several days after being home. In my head I just assumed that it was mixed in with all the other stuff because I don't think it was any different. I do remember my mother picking me up from the bus station, one of those two visits, and a brother picking me up the other time. And both were positive. I I remember my mother being nice to me, going from the bus to home. But then the idea of me living in the house was just Are you kidding?

Speaker 5:49

And then although she wouldn't let you live in the house, she also didn't let you go. She was not scheduling your trip, which she would have had to have scheduled the bus trip and a plan to take you to the bus station.

Speaker 1 6:02

Yes, I don't know the real reasons for the delay. I maybe she was overwhelmed. I don't know. But in my mind, I assumed it was to hurt me. But I did make it back. Back on the psych ward. Whenever a

Rita On The Porch

Speaker 1 6:27

new kid came on the ward, if any staff person took special interest in their case, the worker could assign himself or herself as a liaison to the child. With months behind me now, I had three liaisons once butBeverly, Big Joe, and Rita. But still I wasn't talking. Rita was slight, active, and light on her feet. She wore her dark hair short and curly and tipped it to the side when she was laughing. She often did several things at neveronce, but could look up instantly and make you feel like you were the only one that counted. Beverly was steady and level-headed. She'd take me with her when she drove her car on errands, sometimes ending up at her house, where she'd give me odd jobs in return for extra money. I might wash windows in her sunny upper duplex, or pull out the ironing board to iron cotton shirts belonging to her roommates. I just want to interrupt. That would neverneliaisons:ver happen today. And that was so important to me. The fact that staff would let me in their houses and would pay me to do things, it allowed me to see how other people lived, to literally be in other people's houses, apartments, that was amazing to me. It was so beneficial, and then to be able to earn some money. It meant so much to me. And now that would never happen. Okay, Big Joe was very large and the only black staff person. Mostly he sat in the armchair at the intersection of the hallways, reading the daily newspaper and directing traffic. Stop that now, he'd order. Slow down, shaking his paper for emphasis. Sometimes he told jokes to make us giggle, but mostly he held his paper high in front of him and we ignored each other. One night after I arrived back on the ward from the Montana trip, I was sitting outside by myself on the fenced-in porch. Rita came out to have a cigarette. She asked me if I'd like to have one with her, and I cordially accepted, feeling special. The offer was unusual. So how did your visit go? She asked, sitting down beside me. Fine, I answered. But of course that wasn't true. We sat in silence while smoke curled up from our cigarettes. It was a lovely summer evening. The ward was quiet, and I thought how I was almost comfortable with Rita, even without talking. She seemed to like me, asking my opinion in past conversations, and I wanted to say something like friends do. Our cigarettes burned in silence as we sat. It wasn't a chit-chat kind of evening. One of us had to say something serious, or this moment would be over. I inhaled one more drag and took the plunge. No, it was terrible, I said, and stopped.

You Have Choices Now

Speaker 1 9:38

Neither of us moved. How was it terrible? She asked, in a quiet voice. But I could tell she was paying close attention. Ma says she wishes I was never born. I'm such a burden to the family. Then I needed to explain and give her reasons, so I kept on. She said she wished I was dead because I cost them so much money. Thousands and thousands of dollars. When I was younger, she told me to go jump in the river and drown. The reason I hide in the woods instead of catch the bus is the embarrassment. They make me go in other people's clothes that don't fit. They call me dumb and selfish and ask what they ever did to deserve me. I don't talk back because they'll hurt me. I feel more like a person now, because you treat me fair, you don't call me names. But Dr. Pat must think I'm stupid too. They won't let me talk to Grandma anymore. And I feel bad about what Grandma has to go through and all the trouble I've caused her. They told the neighbors I'm in reform school for stealing. I shouldn't be saying all this because now everybody here will think I'm the basket case. Ma and Pa think everything is my fault, even when I'm not there. I wish I could tell them that I think it's partly their fault too. The sun dropped out of sight while I was talking. And the sky above the roof grew dusk. I stopped talking and began to panic. Oh my god, I've said too much. I'm cooked. I dropped my head down on my knees and wrapped my arms around myself to cover up. Now she'll think I'm crazy. She'll think I made this up to get attention. That I exaggerate, that I'm selfish for talking all about myself. My whole body shivered. Please, God, help me disappear. And then I heard her voice over my shoulder. You have choices now. You're old enough to make your own decisions, some of them. Like you don't have to go back if I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I didn't have to go back? How could I know that for sure? What could I do? There are foster homes, group homes, other places. She kept looking at me. Serious, without laughing. My god, did she believe me? I couldn't comprehend it fast enough. Like a mantra, the words repeated in my head, you don't have to go back there. No, you don't have to go back there. I could not believe what she was saying. According to the notes, our talk lasted less than half an hour. And while the details I gave only scratched the surface of the reality back home, the fact that I said anything was shocking to me at the time. And the impact of that scratch lived forever in my mind. First, there is the picture of us sitting side by side until the sun went down, while I blabbed almost everything, followed by a sweaty terror that could tell the others, and soon the whole thing, like Pandora's box, would swirl and soar out of control. Ma would kill me if she knew what I was doing. As frightening as that evening was, it tore a hole right through the family wall. And in a long continuum of time, it marked the point where my life took on a definite directive course. Soon I was headed down a new road, and this one led to the unknown world of foster homes.

Speaker 13:14

Wow, that is so striking that eh, that she offered you a cigarette. Times have really changed. And it really there was some something about that moment that you were ready to find finally tell your truth.

Speaker 1 13:27

Yeah, it was respect or or uh Kamar about her that I just Yeah, yeah.

Speaker 13:33

You s you finally felt safe enough. Yeah. And so you must have been there. That must have been towards the end of your stay that you finally four or five months.

Speaker 1 13:40

Maybe four months. I say six weeks later I meet the foster family and then two weeks. So it must have been after four months. Yeah.

Speaker 13:48

But basically the mantra that you didn't have to go back is so powerful. And I can just see that that moment in time that you realized I couldn't believe it. We're really free.

Speaker 1 14:04

Yeah, and I also I remember just, oh my god, I've said too much, just being like I exposed. I I've left the cat out of the bag. The biggest rule of the family being that secret. Yes, yep.

Speaker 14:18

And you told what your mother was saying out loud. Yeah. And she believed me. Yeah.

Speaker 1 14:26

Yeah. Wow.

Speaker 14:28

Yeah. And was that really important to you when you found the in the notes where that happened?

Speaker 1 14:37

Yeah, what was surprising is that I thought it went on and on. In the notes it says twenty-five minutes or something. It wasn't even half an hour. But to me it was this huge, big piece of time. And in her notes it it wasn't.

Speaker 14:53

When you look at the notes, do you notice that you became more open after that moment in time where you first let them know how bad it was? No, you closed back down again.

Speaker 1 15:06

And then I closed back down.

Speaker 15:08

But it was enough of a leak.

Speaker 1 15:09

I was aware that then there was movement to get me into a foster family. I was aware of that. Although the social worker had to go through all this stuff to take away my parents' custody. Custody, yeah. Rental rights. So I was aware that there was another possibility, but no, I don't remember being open about it, talking to people about it. That was a long time before I got out from under that shame. You know, I just stayed tucked under that cringing shame or avoidance. You know, they say the anecdote for shame is putting a light on it and

Meeting The Foster Family

Speaker 1 15:53

bringing it out into the open. And I didn't do that for a long time. I just didn't want to go there. I didn't want to think about it. I did talk to Stevie some and then eventually when I'm in that cabin, I really start connecting with it.

Speaker 16:13

Next we are going to go to the foster family.

Speaker 1 16:23

Six weeks later, I stood at the sink in front of the tall mirror in the girl's bathroom. While I nervously fingered the white collar of my blouse, my future family filed into the long, narrow conference room next to the doctor's office. As soon as they finished their private conversation, it was time for me to walk down the corridor to meet them. I'd been told beforehand how fortunate I was, a good family, kids of their own, nice neighborhood, no need to switch my school, that was important. And they didn't live far away. Of course, anywhere was too far. I couldn't bear the thought of leaving, regardless of how good the family was. The fear of leaving this familiar bathroom and all it represented gripped me so ferociously I imagined myself crumpling onto the cold floor tiles and shrinking like a puddle until I was unrecognizable. Instead, the door swung open, my feet obediently followed, and I was ushered into bright fluorescent lights, and all those faces. Which chair should I sit in? What do I say to perfect strangers? Maybe they won't like me. Dr. Pat motioned with her arm, and I sat down awkwardly. Everyone was smiling. This is Julie. This is John. She continued making introductions, while I told myself to pay attention, keep my sweaty palms beneath the table, be polite. I nodded to each one. A mother, a father, two boys, and a girl about my size. The girl had long blonde wavy hair, and she wore braces. All of them were blonde, except the father. Down the line, each one gave reasons why they wanted me to come and live at their house. Did someone put them up to this? I wondered. So I can have a sister, Julie told me. Danny, the smallest boy, said, then I won't be the only foster kid. Danny didn't have any confidence. I could see that right away. But the others seemed so sure, so pleasant. I figured maybe they were fake. I was relieved when it was over and settled, and they'd all gone home without

Goodbye Party And Closing

Speaker 1 18:51

me. On the ward, two weeks later, they gave me a goodbye party. There was no joy in it for me. Even when my favorite staffers came in on their days off and brought homemade cakes and cookies. Even when the rules were bent at bedtime for the youngest kids. I noticed all these things, of course, but it only made my panic increase. Stunned by what was happening, I tried to tell them, I don't want to live anywhere else. This is the best home for me. I'll clean, I'll do any chores to help. I don't think I can physically walk out, but all I could do was rock forward and back on the seat of my chair and keep the blubbering down under. After all the hugs and the kind words were spoken, after the party plates were gathered up and tossed into the garbage bag, I gripped a chair back to keep from falling down into the center of the universe, then blundered to my room to fall onto my bed instead. I laid in the dark, looking toward the ceiling as my tears slipped down into my ears. I practiced spelling last names of staff members in case I had to look them up in the phone book in the future, in case I had to run away from the new foster home. And going back to our earlier conversation about telling on family secrets. I don't remember saying anything to them either, actually. And I don't know what they knew. They probably knew some things. But I never I don't remember ever having a conversation except for an incident with the two letters that my mother had sent me. That's a whole nother story, but Okay.

Speaker 20:42

Well there's more stories to come.

Speaker 1 20:47

Yeah.

Speaker 20:48

Check us out again.

Speaker 1 20:49

Thank you. Thanks for listening. It seems like such a sob story now in my old age. Really, oh my goodness. But it it was that bad. It really was that bad.

Speaker 21:00

Yes. And the moment that you broke the silence. That was that feels really big. Okay. Thanks again, Cadie.

Speaker 1 21:10

Yes, thank you, Pam. Take care.

Speaker 21:14

Bye bye.