"The Road Less Traveled" - One Family's Journey
"The Road Less Traveled" - One Family's Journey
Written By: Kim and Tom Garloch
Written By: Kim and Tom Garloch
4th Grade, Time For Change
Since the first grade, our family went through a great deal of changes. We were trying to make some positive changes for our family. I had gone back to school for a college degree, Tom had found his place in the carpentry field. We had moved out of Tom’s dad’s home. As my college career was coming to an end I found myself doing two jobs and going to school full time. I had been doing intern hours in a behavioral school for students who had mental illness. I was working weekend shifts at a girl’s group home for juvenile delinquents. Instead of going to a detention center they were placed in a 24 hour group home until they earned their way out. I was the relief worker for the full time home parents. When they decided to leave, Tom and I were offered the full time position. We moved in with our children and became responsible for 8 additional female juveniles. Tom continued to work his full time job, and I continued to go to school while all the kids were in school.
As time passed, the girls started giving me a hard time about my son. They felt that I dressed him like a “dork” and his self esteem was affected by it. Our son was now 10, and they girls ranged in age from 13 - 17. For the most part the girls loved the kids and the kids loved the girls. However, I was working with juvenile delinquents. Many had behavioral issues. When angry, they were definitely capable of saying mean things. This was the first time I remember someone coming right out and saying what they thought. At first the girls made statements that I dressed my son like he was “gay”. When they were mad at him they would call him a “faggot”.
I never really felt that he had outdated clothing. We were careful as the kids started school to ensure they had name brand items that matched the times. This was the time period where sagging was “in” and straight legs were “out”. But the girls made it clear that he wasn’t in fashion. So we updated his wardrobe. This however, did not help the issues at school. The girls were relating that he was being picked on at school for being “gay” by the students and the teachers. Of course Tom and I were still in denial. We blamed our living arrangements, all of the female influence - but he was definitely NOT gay. We increasingly became angry with the girls for putting the idea in our son’s head that it might be possible. We did not want him to even entertain the thought. We were still of the belief that if we expressed our disapproval clearly enough, he could be whatever we mold him to be. But if the girls were expressing that they were “ok” with that he would be disillusioned that it’s “ok” with others.
As I was graduating from college, I was offered a full time position at the behavioral school that I was interning at. We thought we had it all worked out. Tom could be home from work before the girls got home from school and I would be home shortly after. I didn’t have to work weekends or holidays. I took the job. Talk about overkill! I worked with kids that had mental illness all day; I came home to 8 unstable girls every night. I still needed to be a wife and mother to my own children. After a year at the group home, we met our oldest daughter. The history that preceded her was horrible. I remember telling my boss that I didn’t think she could be a good fit at the home. But as a government funded home there were a lot of politics behind decisions. She had just turned 15 and was “hell on wheels”. She was 5’9 and used her size to intimidate. At 5’0 she was considerably taller than I was. One thing I learned working with kids – even if they are intimidating, you convey confidence to gain respect. When she moved to the home she was heavily medicated. The foster home complained constantly to the psychiatrist who treated her and she was on tranquilizers through the day and a sleeping pill that was so strong that if she took it at the kitchen sink, you had to carry her to bed. The other girls were afraid of her because she stared at them all the time (at the time we didn’t realize she was over medicated). After a month or two we started weaning her off the meds. What we got was a young girl who would definitely speak her mind but was kind and loving.
When we attempted to adopt her, my boss fought us at every corner. My boss wanted her to continue living there in the program but not as our child because she was able to bill for her. We made the decision to resign and pursue a better life for her. It took an additional 6 months after we left to win the battle. It was heartbreaking to leave the home without her, and she struggled to earn her way out.
We moved to our home that we purchased prior to moving into the group home. We also made a decision to move our son to a new school. We felt with a fresh start he would improve. While we maintained contact with many of the girls we supported, we were back to being a smaller family unit.
My children accepted her as their sister and she accepted them as her siblings. We did not pursue a name change because she was older. She knew her family and we encouraged her to maintain a relationship with them. Her mother was a drug addict and couldn’t care for herself let alone a child. Her sister was raised by her grandmother so she never experienced the same life as our daughter or her biological brother. Her brother was still being bounced from foster home to foster home, until her father thought he could handle the responsibility himself. Her father never made any bones about having no desire or experience with raising a girl. He felt that the best decision he could make for her would be to give her to a family that would love her like their own while providing the guidance she needed. His testimony is what actually helped us win our case in court. We encouraged contact with all but her mother. When her mother was dying of cancer, we let her make her own choice about having a relationship but did not permit her mother to make our daughter responsible for her care.
My children accepted her as their sister and she accepted them as her siblings. We did not pursue a name change because she was older. She knew her family and we encouraged her to maintain a relationship with them. Her mother was a drug addict and couldn’t care for herself let alone a child. Her sister was raised by her grandmother so she never experienced the same life as our daughter or her biological brother. Her brother was still being bounced from foster home to foster home, until her father thought he could handle the responsibility himself. Her father never made any bones about having no desire or experience with raising a girl. He felt that the best decision he could make for her would be to give her to a family that would love her like their own while providing the guidance she needed. His testimony is what actually helped us win our case in court. We encouraged contact with all but her mother. When her mother was dying of cancer, we let her make her own choice about having a relationship but did not permit her mother to make our daughter responsible for her care.
For our son these were once again MAJOR changes in his life. Our youngest daughter seemed to always be able to go with the flow. For our son, although he never voiced unhappiness we saw it in his actions. He was withdrawn, quiet. One of the things that strikes me even now about him is that he never really maintained friendships. The only friends he ever maintained were girls. On the rare occasions he had a male friend or one that we would meet, Tom and I were extremely judgmental. Although we didn’t express our opinions to our son, we did encourage him to find different friends. All of the friends we met our first reaction was “he’s gay”. Looking back I find it ironic that we could spot qualities in a child as long as we weren’t talking about our own. We encouraged different friends because we didn’t want their “tendencies” to rub off on our own son. We didn’t want him to be like them - GAY. So he stopped bringing male friends home.
By the sixth grade, hope had been restored. Our worries had gone away because we were experiencing “girl troubles”, not of the drama variety but of the psycho variety.
Next Week: Psychotic