If you were to ask the people in my life what they know about me they probably would include in their response that I am very organized. I love order and even more importantly I believe that everything has it's own perfect space to belong. This need for organization was clearly demonstarted while preparing to launch the garbage bag challenge. I made it a priority to ensure that I would create the space for my garbage bags to be protected and stored - even after they are no longer usable.
A sturdy plastic container safely holds the brand new and used garbage bags, yet over the last few days I have become increasingly uncomfortable as I look at it. It bothers me because it's a glaringly obvious representation of the truth - that being a foster kid and in foster care isn't an experience you are able to keep all neat and tidy. I feel a connection with the garbage bag, that nagging feeling that if I am not strong enough to withstand what life brings my way I am easily tossed aside. Although I have deep gratitude and appreciation in my life today for the supports that were in my life while I was in care, a part of me still and perhaps always will battle the garbage - the stigma, labels and sense that I don't belong. What I hold onto tightly is that life has become much more clean and tidy as I focus on healing. Letting go and making room for the new.