A Finished Book

The book is finished. It just arrived from the publisher. Books are always neater and cleaner than the process that makes them. Hundreds of hours, stacks of paper, and dozens of edits. I’m genuinely embarrassed by some of the poorly edited pages that I sent to people to review and comment on what I had been writing.

What started out as three hundred pages of research notes, personal stories, and comments are now forged into 200 pages that are readable. Unlike this blog that seems to collect problems of the moment, the book sorts through issues and arranges them in an orderly fashion, and relates them to people, policy, and community.

The plan now is to get books to reviewers, media, and friends to see if it’s worthy of being read. Objectivity is hard. I’m heavily invested in the topic. The writing could always be improved, and I see now what I left out and how the book could have been clearer and made more impactful.

Oh well, perhaps next time.

If you have comments on the book, Please post them here.


See the book;

www.invisiblechildren.org

Dear Judge John

Dear Judge John,

For years now I have visited you every month or so in your chambers when you review my status as your county ward. Is it odd that you are the only adult who has stayed in my life since I was taken away from my father eight years ago?

He had done terrible things to me until I was seven. When I started school the nurse saw all my bruises and reported me to child protection. I am glad that happened. It probably saved my life.

But it’s not much of a life. I remember running out into traffic on Chicago Avenue just after I was put into St Joe’s Home for Children. I have done other life threatening things also.

I am abnormal. I don't fit in. The traumatic things that happened to me and prolonged exposure to violence and neglect have made me grow up different than other kids.

My attention is always locked on the bad things that can happen to me. I am hardwired that way. Because I am not normal, I can’t be comfortable around other people, in a school, with other children, or in a family. I know I don’t fit in. I know I am different. My behaviors are explosive because that is the way I learned to survive with my father.

Telling me all day long to stop my bad behaviors will not help me to develop coping skills to replace my explosive personality. The Prozac and Ritalin that I have taken these past five years have made me feel like a zombie and I hate taking them.

School is the worst because I started three years later than the other children in my class and I have never caught up or kept up. I had no parents to help me start school. My language skills weren’t half as good as other kids & I just hate being made to look stupid again and again all day long because of how much I don’t know and how much I can’t do.

I don’t have attention for school. My mind is not able to let go and get into English or Math or History.

There have been over one hundred social workers, foster parents, and other adults in my life since I left my dad. None of them have stayed for more than a few years. My feelings of abandonment have been reinforced over one hundred times. I have lived with twenty-seven foster families and group homes. My explosive personality and lack of trust make it hard for me to stay in one place too long.

Even though I never show it, I very much appreciate your monthly reviews. It is about the only thing regular and predictable in my life.

You have been a stern but caring figure in my life. Maybe someday I will be comfortable enough with myself to be able to thank you.