Post by Cole on Oct 22, 2024 4:54:10 GMT -5
Wedgewood was a real facility there east of Grand Rapids Michigan where they housed plenty Of vagrant Homeless run-away children. These were the children that they could not control with youth homes and social conditioning, police officers, parents, schools, and other projects they had going on to try to get the children to obey the social norms which did not work for me.
The boys side of the facility was called Wedgewood but I can't remember if the girls side had the same name or not but I think they were different and at any route I toured the facility after having been a runaway for a very long time. Things just were not working out. I'd spent time in been in foster care and also 90 days in the youth home for my reoccurring habitual runaway status. I was at the final threat from the state of Michigan that they were going to put me in this facility and keep me there as a ward of the state until I was 21 years old I didn't think it was fair after living with someone whom was my sister who had borderline personality disorder and beat me and had her friends beat me all the time when I was on my way home from school there was definitely something wrong in the home and there was nothing I could do about it nor my mother because she was working a lot.
I'd run away a lot because I needed to get away from my sister's constant screaming, yelling, belittling and hitting. It was too much to bear as a very young child and I couldn't understand why she couldn't just leave me alone and get along, but it was an everyday thing and there was nothing I could do. I had no help even though I spoke up. I would walk home from school with my head turn toward the sidewalk so that no one could see me look up because if I even dare to look up for a second someone would try to jump me and it was always one of my sister's friends who she was complaining to about me and I had done nothing to her they would stop me and start hitting me and beat me up and I didn't fight back at first but after a while I did. While I was young I had complained to the school, the bus drivers, the teachers and called the police many, many times on my sister like my mother had told me to do.
It seemed that no one was helping me whatsoever as nothing ever happened. I begged my mother many times to change schools because I was not safe and nothing. I could not go play on the playground I could not play outside without someone on the playground trying to beat me up, or following me home even if I took the railroad tracks.
I was not safe. Daily people tried to beat me up after school, if I looked up from the ground as I walked they would yell; "What are you looking at?"
It was a horrible existence and my mother was not a bad parent was just trying to do what she could do to feed four children and keep a house going while my father Tom was not present at all and there was no child support. Of course the police did nothing but take a report and never tried to help settle the matter nor did the school nor did the bus drivers nor did anyone I tell that I was being beaten up help me at all not ever once.
I began running way at the age of 13 and I didn't want to do it at first but I got away from the house and I felt so much better afterwards it was a relief not to be in the house with this sister of mine who would hit me and give me black eyes while I was sleeping and I would go to school and I would have a black eye and everybody would ask me what happened. They didn't care that Mandy had hit me they just wanted to make sure that I wasn't getting beaten up by my mom or dad. So I had been abused by my sister and it was really terrible And her friends she would complain to would beat me up Every day.
Sometime after having been picked up by the police when I was young I toured the facility of Wedgewood with my mother and I decided I never wanted to go there it was a huge brownish Gray Building and the people inside seem to want to have complete control of all aspects of my life and I wasn't allowed to do anything at all and had to basically dedicate my whole existence to their facility in order to go there. I remember wondering why in the hell would anybody want to be stuck in a place like that.
I could see the sadness in my mother's eyes as I told the facilities director that I would not go willingly to Wedgewood and stay there willingly or obey any of their orders and that one hour a day was not worth my time to be out in the community to be good and follow every single rule they had including an up to only having three cigarettes a day and only if my parents would buy them for me because the facility would not provide them.
The boys side of the facility was called Wedgewood but I can't remember if the girls side had the same name or not but I think they were different and at any route I toured the facility after having been a runaway for a very long time. Things just were not working out. I'd spent time in been in foster care and also 90 days in the youth home for my reoccurring habitual runaway status. I was at the final threat from the state of Michigan that they were going to put me in this facility and keep me there as a ward of the state until I was 21 years old I didn't think it was fair after living with someone whom was my sister who had borderline personality disorder and beat me and had her friends beat me all the time when I was on my way home from school there was definitely something wrong in the home and there was nothing I could do about it nor my mother because she was working a lot.
I'd run away a lot because I needed to get away from my sister's constant screaming, yelling, belittling and hitting. It was too much to bear as a very young child and I couldn't understand why she couldn't just leave me alone and get along, but it was an everyday thing and there was nothing I could do. I had no help even though I spoke up. I would walk home from school with my head turn toward the sidewalk so that no one could see me look up because if I even dare to look up for a second someone would try to jump me and it was always one of my sister's friends who she was complaining to about me and I had done nothing to her they would stop me and start hitting me and beat me up and I didn't fight back at first but after a while I did. While I was young I had complained to the school, the bus drivers, the teachers and called the police many, many times on my sister like my mother had told me to do.
It seemed that no one was helping me whatsoever as nothing ever happened. I begged my mother many times to change schools because I was not safe and nothing. I could not go play on the playground I could not play outside without someone on the playground trying to beat me up, or following me home even if I took the railroad tracks.
I was not safe. Daily people tried to beat me up after school, if I looked up from the ground as I walked they would yell; "What are you looking at?"
It was a horrible existence and my mother was not a bad parent was just trying to do what she could do to feed four children and keep a house going while my father Tom was not present at all and there was no child support. Of course the police did nothing but take a report and never tried to help settle the matter nor did the school nor did the bus drivers nor did anyone I tell that I was being beaten up help me at all not ever once.
I began running way at the age of 13 and I didn't want to do it at first but I got away from the house and I felt so much better afterwards it was a relief not to be in the house with this sister of mine who would hit me and give me black eyes while I was sleeping and I would go to school and I would have a black eye and everybody would ask me what happened. They didn't care that Mandy had hit me they just wanted to make sure that I wasn't getting beaten up by my mom or dad. So I had been abused by my sister and it was really terrible And her friends she would complain to would beat me up Every day.
Sometime after having been picked up by the police when I was young I toured the facility of Wedgewood with my mother and I decided I never wanted to go there it was a huge brownish Gray Building and the people inside seem to want to have complete control of all aspects of my life and I wasn't allowed to do anything at all and had to basically dedicate my whole existence to their facility in order to go there. I remember wondering why in the hell would anybody want to be stuck in a place like that.
I could see the sadness in my mother's eyes as I told the facilities director that I would not go willingly to Wedgewood and stay there willingly or obey any of their orders and that one hour a day was not worth my time to be out in the community to be good and follow every single rule they had including an up to only having three cigarettes a day and only if my parents would buy them for me because the facility would not provide them.