In Search of Serenity

By Sally J King

In Search of Serenity recounts the stories of adoption through the foster system—not once, but twice—as Sally J King weaves her daughter's adoption odyssey with her own. Apprehended as a starved and neglected infant, Sally became a ward of children's services until being adopted at six months of age. Though placed with a caring family, trauma followed her though childhood with the insidious sexual abuse by a family member. 

 

Candid and raw, Sally's account cuts to the heart of the wounded foster child and exposes flaws in the system that is set out to protect its children. With an insider's perspective, and practical advice for foster parents and adoptive families alike, Sally does not pull any punches. For the children's sake, change must happen, both with the system and within hurting families. 

 

Readers will be encouraged and motivated by Sally's energy and irrepressible spirit to "do the hard things" that can make a difference for their children and families. Sally's positive message to families is "Healing, Help, Hope." This book dishes it out in huge helpings.

• Language: English
• Publisher: D-K Publishers
• Release date: Oct 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393363811

Sally J King

SALLY J KING – author, speaker, advocate and family coach — is an adult adoptee from the foster system and knows firsthand the devastation of childhood trauma. She is a survivor in more ways than any one person should ever have to count, but has learned that the only way out is to go through. Her passion to give a voice to the vulnerable and voiceless has caused her to advocate for change in the foster system, and has become a message of “Healing, Help, and Hope” to families who are struggling. A parent of three, two bio sons and a daughter that she and her husband adopted through the foster system, Sally recognizes her duty to “do the hard things” to ensure her children grow up with a secure foundation and a strong sense of self.

Book preview

In Search of SERENITY

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From Foster Child to Adoptive Mum

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SALLY J KING

Copyright © 2020 by SALLY J KING

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IN SEARCH OF SERENITY

The views expressed herein are those of the author, based upon her own experiences. The information contained herein is not intended to replace the advice of a trained health professional and is provided with no guarantees of completeness, accuracy, usefulness or timeliness or of the results obtained from any action taken upon the use of this information. Readers are advised to consult a qualified professional regarding any physical, psychological and emotional problems. The author and publisher specifically disclaim liability, loss or risk, personal or otherwise, which is incurred as a consequence, directly or indirectly, of the use or application of any of the contents of this book.

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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

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Edited and Developed by Brenda L Andres

Cover Design by Janine Stowe Design

Cover Photo by Tyson King

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Paperback ISBN: 9798690128098

eBook ISBN: 9781393363811

D-K Publishers

Canada

Printed in the United States of America

www.sallyjking.com

CONTENTS

DEDICATION

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

RESOURCES

REFERENCES

About the Author

DEDICATION

To Serenity. I hear you. I see you. I love you. I am you.

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To Brady and Tyson for starting me off in the parenting arena with so much fun and adventure.

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To Murray, who from the minute you met me, you have always been my soft place to fall.

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SPECIAL ACKNOWLEGEMENTS TO:

Brenda Andres, my editor and friend! This book would never have happened if it had not been for you. Thank you for convincing me that my story had value and needed to be told, for going above and beyond, and for allowing me to really feel heard, and for being one of the best editors and hands-down best humans that I have the privilege to call friend.

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Kim Long, until you came along as my therapist and enacted a miracle, I was embarrassed by my story. I wrote it but wasn’t ready to share it. Thank you, Kim, for walking me home.

INTRODUCTION

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Things don’t happen to you; they happen for you.

~ WHITNEY MORFITT, PHYSIOTHERAPIST

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I WRITE THIS BOOK FOR SERENITY. I write so my voice may be heard and that one day, Serenity will know I have always heard hers. This book began because I know what it is like to be unheard. To be the problem child. Until I learned as an adult that I have Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder (FASD), I had always believed that I was just a shitty person. I vowed to never let another child feel as hopeless and unlovable as I felt all my life.

A parent once said to me, It’s like you love our kids and you don't even know them. That’s because I do! I love all kids. I especially don't want any child to feel the way I did. They shouldn’t have to scream for help in the most unlovable ways. This book is a voice for the voiceless, the unheard, the labelled. If you insist on calling us broken, know that the only thing broken is our hearts from sheer neglect and the damage of diminishing labels. Those labels don’t help us; they scar us. They dehumanize us. They say we are something to be dealt with, not loved. 

Children and adults from foster care and adoption need to be heard. Our souls are crying out for understanding and acceptance. I am giving us a platform and a megaphone. I am giving us a voice. Our needs are vast and our experiences abysmal, beyond anything you could ever imagine from your safe living room. We are floundering and need your compassion. Our pain and unspeakable trauma runs deep, still we cope the best we can with the resources we have. We are not a commodity to be controlled by social services, helpless to decide what is best for us.

All children are unique, but in the child-rearing arena, a ‘child from hard places’ is a unicorn. It is a ridiculous notion to lump children into a predefined box and equate them developmentally, emotionally and behaviourally. The mantle does not fit, and it sets children up to fail.

An adoption coordinator once told me, Sally, forget anything you know about raising bio kids. Throw it out. Those rules no longer apply.

What applies to a biological child does not apply to us adoptees and foster kids. We are not the same. We think differently, act differently and react differently. Even when we act out atrociously, we need patience. Even when we are unlovable, we need love. In the hardest moments, we need softness. When we are a bewildering anomaly, we need empathy. Trust me, we will search for love in the most unlovable ways. We will demand your patience at the worst times and in the worst ways.

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We do not need harsh discipline and unforgiving consequences. But I promise you, if the status quo is maintained, we will continue to fall short of societal expectations. We will struggle to succeed and face daily frustrations and disappointments. We will be miserable, depressed and crushed. And we most certainly will not thrive. All of the misguided discipline, battles, fights and consequences will be for naught, because our behaviour is not the full picture. There is so much more you need to know.

I am also writing for those who think they know what is best for the foster and adopted child. If you are thinking of embarking on a journey to foster or adopt, do not do it lightly. We are children with traumatic beginnings, dealing with wounds and despicable circumstances beyond our comprehension. We do not care that someone thinks they know what is best for us, we only care desperately that someone loves us through our circumstances.

We are a peculiar breed, but we are also fabulous, and we deserve better than just a second chance. By sharing my personal experiences as one of those fostered and adopted children, I strive to turn my mess into a message. Maybe I cannot right the wrongs of my childhood, but I can address the glaring flaws of a broken system in the hope of bringing change. I also pray that the knowledge I have gained from the trenches of the foster system can be a beacon in the darkness for someone who is reading this for answers and hope.

So, open yourself to new possibilities and accept that you are (most likely) in over your head. My approach and techniques may be foreign and may go against everything you’ve ever believed about fostering and adoption, but then again, if nothing else seems to be working, it might be worth a try.

CHAPTER 1

Growing up Adopted

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Life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.

~ WILLIAM GOLDMAN, The Princess Bride

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SERENITY...

I have been searching for it my entire life—that elusive sense of peace and self-acceptance. Who knew it would come to me, wrapped up in a tiny girl with big brown eyes, who had no one?

I am a foster child and an adoptee. Much speculation surrounds my birth, but I know for certain that I was breech when I tumbled into this world on September 17, 1964 and was given the name Cheryl Lynn Friesen. I only lived with my birth mother for the first five months of my life until she was reported to be neglecting and starving me. For my own protection, I was seized into custody by Canadian Child Welfare Services and situated into foster care. Once they had ‘fattened me up' to a healthy weight, I was placed for adoption. At six months of age, Jean and Allan Dick adopted and renamed me, Sally-Jean Dick.

Throughout my young life, something felt missing, like a puzzle piece lost from the box. There were no early baby pictures of me. It was always a subtle reminder of the unmentionable years. I thought of it as B.A. and A.A. Before-Adoption and After-Adoption. I spent the better part of fifty years trying to find that missing piece. I spent a lifetime trying to fill the hole it created during those first six months of my story and fighting the terrible circumstances of my entry into the world.

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A TABOO SUBJECT

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On a logical level, I was aware that I had a good home and knew that my parents loved me, but there remained a strange void I could not shake. I think that adoption becomes a taboo subject, like the elephant in the room. Everyone sees it. Everyone knows it is there, but no one mentions it, as if holding a collective breath, drawing attention even more.

At an early age, the shadow of my adoption was evident to me. It may have appeared to others as the picture-perfect childhood, but darkness lurked beneath my fragile surface. I had been taken from my mother. That childhood wound cut deeper than anyone knew. No matter what else happened growing up, that terrible knowledge always lingered. A little voice in my head whispered, You are not wanted. You are not enough. You are not one of them.

Comments concerning my origins and opinions about adoption swirled around me. Maybe no one ever intended to be cruel, but the words cut like razors. I overheard them and I understood. I was not the first choice. I was the lesser option of infertility. I was second best. No one wants to be second best. Everyone wants the blue ribbon. To be the personification of a consolation prize is a bitter pill to swallow.

All anyone wants is a sense of belonging, but for someone who is adopted, that feeling is fleeting. No matter how many declarations or promises or assurances we are given, we doubt. We feel out of place. I experienced life on the periphery looking in, feeling like I was not truly part of the happy family unit.

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THE STARK TRUTH IN THE MIRROR

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The stark truth stared at me in the mirror. I did not look like the rest of my family. My adoptive family was dark-haired, olive-skinned and brown-eyed. I was blonde, blue-eyed, and big for my age. It was like wearing a sign that screamed: This child is not a part of us.

Even my adopted brother Graeme appeared more like our Mum and Dad in colouring and physique. Graeme, I always thought, blended into the family picture while I stuck out as proof. While their physical characteristics unified them, mine did not. As an adopted child, this mattered to me so desperately.

No amount of reassurance could convince me otherwise. I knew that I was different; I felt like I didn’t belong.

I was adopted second into the household. A four-year gap separated my brother and me. Too far apart in age to grow up as friends, the disparity was close enough that jealousy and animosity festered. Graeme had been the centre of our parents’ universe for five years until I came along and stole his spotlight. A relentless battle overshadowed our childhood years. I honestly felt inferior to my brother and he regularly displayed his contempt by terrorizing me. Most would call it sibling rivalry, but for me it was horrid. Sadly, it is a conflict we still wage as adults. So much has transpired between us and, as some would say, too much water under the bridge. In truth, it is much more than either of us has any desire to repair.

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SCHOOL BULLIES AND TRAUMA KIDS

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School proved to be its own brutal reality. Each day would start with a stressful early morning rush to get out the door, and then for the next several hours I was confined to the relentless overstimulation of crowded classrooms. It is not