My support worker should be back any day now. She’s amazing. Always goes the extra mile. I started working with her before I left care.
I decided to leave care at sixteen, and turning seventeen I had a flat. I remember thinking how easy it would be. I wouldn’t ever have to leave the house. It would be my choice. Finally I was in control. Except… It all sucked. It was scary. Bills rent, food..
Now turning twenty in my second flat I’m trying to convince my brother who is now sixteen not to rush. He’s in a carehome like I was. He moved from our foster placement about the same age I did, it all got to much for him too. He’s a good kid, but growing up to fast can be hard. But my little brother has his own journey to make. It just hard knowing he might get hurt on his way.
But in a happier note, I’m cooking bacon for lunch. Nom.
Till next time,