As I began my family, I put my speaking on hold to focus on working, and raising my family. Later, as I began a photography business and started taking senior portraits, the feelings I experienced in high school began to surface. As I photographed seniors in their prom dresses, I felt a ping of sadness that I never got to experience prom. Taking photos of graduates in their cap and gown, I recalled being a statistical drop out, and not being able to complete high school when my peers did. I had long wanted to help foster kids in some way, and now I felt my heart calling me to do something.

Don’t get me wrong, there were GOOD foster homes that tried to make me a part of their family. They tried to give me love. I just didn’t feel I was worth it. I knew if I let my guard down that I would be rejected. Many foster children have the same feelings. We are dispensable. If we act out, we usually get kicked out. What is the point of trying to belong somewhere when you are one bad day away from loading up your garbage bag and riding off to a new placement with your social worker?

High school is hard enough for “normal” kids. Imagine being a foster kid. Most don’t have the money to do extra curricular activities, like cheerleading or football. Many just show up at school and try to stay lost in the shadows. Sometimes we pick the wrong friends because we need an escape. Many times we are scared to sign up for sports because we know no one will be in the stands cheering us on. Sometimes, if we are lucky, we have supportive foster parents who shell out their own money to
buy our uniforms so we can participate in school activities.

To this day, I still shy away from the camera. I admittedly wrestle often with my self-esteem and fear of rejection. These are things that will never totally disappear for me. Having a family of my own has helped me to see the value of being in pictures. I did have some photos growing up, but I lost them along the way. So taking photos is great, but I have to remind myself often to be in them, too.

As I grew into adulthood, I would share my story with others and I discovered that many of the hardships I overcame were things that people struggle with. I found that it was healing for me to find purpose in my story and each time I shared, there were people who were touched, or who could relate. Many times I have been told it was helpful to hear my experiences even by those who are not affiliated with foster care.

During the nearly 15 years I was in the foster care system, there were times, when I woke up, I did not know I would be ending my day in a different bed. I could never establish a sense of home or family.

I would not be accepted. Towards my sophomore year, I started to feel better about myself as I had an amazing foster family and I met a great group of friends. Finally, I started to feel accepted.

Unfortunately, the loss of my foster dad sent me into a spiral and I found myself moving yet again. After a couple more placements, I ended back at the place where my journey started, Hillcrest. It was there, as I was waiting for a home to take me in, that I wrote to someone in the phone book. Her name was Toby and she helped adoptees find their birth families. I poured my heart out in every word as I asked her to please find my mother for me. Less than 2 weeks later, I got the call that my mother was located and wanted to see me. I was 17 at the time. Eventually, I did get my reunion, and my grandfather ended up taking custody of me during the last few months before I turned 18. My story is much more intricate than this, but for the sake of time, I will share the basics and why my heart has called me to help foster youth who are getting ready to age out of the system.

The name Seventeen Pillows stems from my time in foster care. During my 14 year stay in foster care, I rested my head on 17 different pillows. My journey started a couple months shy of my 4th birthday when my mother drove me to Hillcrest Receiving Home in San Diego, California. She had me get out of her car and she drove away. I was found crying for my mother in the parking lot. That was the beginning of my foster care journey. I was moved from Hillcrest to a temporary foster home, then to a long term placement and later adopted.

After a couple of years, my adopted parents decided to return me to the system. From there, I moved to many foster and group homes. I had a hard time making and keeping friends. In high school, I ate lunch in the bathroom on many occasions because I was embarrassed and scared of interacting with my peers. I longed to be like the popular kids, and go to dances and have boyfriends. I knew I was different and I was so scared of rejection that I rarely tried establishing connections for fear that

The name Seventeen Pillows stems from my time in foster care. During my 14 year stay in foster care, I rested my head on 17 different pillows. My journey started a couple months shy of my 4th birthday when my mother drove me to Hillcrest Receiving Home in San Diego, California. She had me get out of her car and she drove away. I was found crying for my mother in the parking lot. That was the beginning of my foster care journey. I was moved from Hillcrest to a temporary foster home, then to a long term placement and later adopted.

After a couple of years, my adopted parents decided to return me to the system. From there, I moved to many foster and group homes. I had a hard time making and keeping friends. In high school, I ate lunch in the bathroom on many occasions because I was embarrassed and scared of interacting with my peers. I longed to be like the popular kids, and go to dances and have boyfriends. I knew I was different and I was so scared of rejection that I rarely tried establishing connections for fear that I would not be accepted. Towards my sophomore year, I started to feel better about myself as I had an amazing foster family and I met a great group of friends. Finally, I started to feel accepted. 

Unfortunately, the loss of my foster dad sent me into a spiral and I found myself moving yet again. After a couple more placements, I ended back at the place where my journey started, Hillcrest. It was there, as I was waiting for a home to take me in, that I wrote to someone in the phone book. Her name was Toby and she helped adoptees find their birth families. I poured my heart out in every word as I asked her to please find my mother for me. Less than 2 weeks later, I got the call that my mother was located and wanted to see me. I was 17 at the time. Eventually, I did get my reunion, and my grandfather ended up taking custody of me during the last few months before I turned 18. My story is much more intricate than this, but for the sake of time, I will share the basics and why my heart has called me to help foster youth who are getting ready to age out of the system.

Journey

my foster care