Looking for a home. Iresha's story

32-year-old Iresha was born in India and adopted as a baby by Dutch adoptive parents. Iresha is 12 years old when she dares to confide in someone and tells them about what is really going on at her home. At the age of 15 she was removed from her home. She spends her teenage years in various youth care institutions.

Years later, she has gotten her life on track independently. She lives in Antwerp where she attends the art academy and works on her works of art with great passion. This is her story.

Where I come from

I grew up in a family with Dutch parents. After I arrived in the Netherlands, my parents adopted my sister from Colombia. My mother became pregnant twice more. She interrupted one pregnancy and when I was 7 years old they had another son. I've always felt different. I looked different from the people around me.

When I was 5 years old, I traveled to India with my adoptive parents to meet my biological mother. This was a traumatic experience. I was too young to be confronted with my background; the different culture in India and the poverty I saw. When I got off the plane and was confronted with the people living on the streets, I had to throw up.

I didn't understand the purpose of the trip. I had to wait in a hotel room, where I would meet my biological mother. My adoptive mother told me that I was not allowed to reveal that I was her child because there were relatives present who did not know about the adoption. I understood that my biological mother had to give me up because she was not married and this was a great shame.

I was always a quiet child, but after this trip I became more introverted. I had to process the trip and meeting my birth mother. I felt guilty that I grew up in wealth and other kids didn't. I no longer needed Sinterklaas presents. The trip was no longer discussed at home.

How it got worse

When I was 7 years old, a lot changed in our lives. My brother was born, my mother had an abortion and a good friend of my parents died. As a result of all these developments, my mother became ill. She was manic depressive and had psychoses. She said she didn't want to see me and my adopted sister anymore. She told me that my biological mother had sent a letter telling me not to contact her anymore. I have never read this letter, my adoptive mother has always been vague about it.

My mother was admitted to a psychiatric institution a few times, but the psychological help never continued for her, nor was she motivated.

I have always taken care of my brother and sister because my mother was unable to do so and my father was always working. I watched the maternity nurse how she cared for my newborn brother and therefore knew how to bottle feed him. I had to do this because my mother wouldn't do it.

We were beaten and shouted at home every day; my father mainly shouted at my brother and my mother shouted at me and my sister. We were not allowed to go outside and our clothes were not allowed to get dirty. Sometimes we were locked in our room and given no food. There was no discussion about the problems that existed. The shame was great. 

She saw me!

When I went to high school I told my story to a friend. She told this to a teacher and that's how the ball started rolling. That teacher reported it to Veilig Thuis (at that time: The AMK).

A counselor from Veilig Thuis came to school to talk to me. I was taken out of class. I was afraid to talk, my parents would soon hear this and I would be beaten. She told me that a letter had been sent stating that Veilig Thuis wanted to talk to me and my parents.

In the days after this conversation at school, I didn't dare do anything wrong. I was so afraid that my mother would 'freak out' and that Safe at Home would not believe my side of the story. My mother was the best at manipulating someone. When I came home from school one day, the counselor had already arrived. I couldn't really talk to this lady because I didn't know how to deal with all the tensions I felt. My mother indicated that there were adoption problems. After this conversation I had to go to my room, I didn't get any food that evening. The misery continued, nothing changed.

Help was mobilized by the school. I talked to a school social worker. It was hard for me; I was so happy that I was listened to, but I was also afraid of the consequences if I told honestly about what was going on at home.

Help was provided for my brother and sister, and we also took a KOPP course, especially for children of parents with psychological problems, which I experienced as positive.

The Youth Care Office and the Child Protection Council were involved. I don't remember anything about a council investigation. A supervision order was recommended, I was 14 years old at the time. I had to go to court, which was very exciting. There were a lot of people in the room and I had to tell my story. Fortunately, I was also allowed to speak alone with the juvenile judge. I was then able to say what I wanted to say; that things are not right in my home and that my parents have problems. I felt like I was being listened to.

I got a family guardian. I got a lot out of her. I could always call her; when she was at work, but also outside office hours. She saw me! She also had conversations with my parents and identified problems. She remained my family guardian until I was 18 years old.

The out-of-home placement

I was 15 years old when I was removed from home. Because no foster family was willing to take me in, I had to go to a room training center in the big city. After 9 months this turned out not to be the right place for me. At 16 years old, I was the youngest in the group and did not fit in well with the other young people who drank alcohol and used drugs.

When I was 17 I was placed in a different group. It was a group especially for young people who needed a lot of structure and control. I felt doubly punished and not heard at all. I resisted everything and everyone for six months. I started using drugs, dropped out of school, didn't feel like doing anything, had no friends and became rebellious. I had a tattoo done and therefore my mother did not allow me to see my brother and sister for six months. Around this period the pent-up anger came out. The group management gave me a punching bag. Hitting the punching bag worked well. Sometimes I felt like running away, but I didn't know where to go. I had no one.

I started to realize that I needed to have a plan to live somewhere. It couldn't go on like this any longer. It was then that I was given the opportunity to take on a role in the institution's youth council. That felt good! I could do something, I had a goal and could mean something to myself and others.

When I was 18 years old, the supervision measure expired. I was offered to get help until I was 21 . My family guardian left Youth Care and I was assigned someone else. I didn't click with her. I had to make room for a 15 year old girl in the group. I was able to go to a building focused on room training, but this project was not yet well thought out and ready to guide people. It was messy and it had an effect on my life. I started school, but I stopped again. I was obsessive about exercising and developed an eating disorder.

I was transferred to another group. I was 19 years old and was placed with young people of 13 years old. This didn't work. This was followed by a 7-month admission to a clinic for eating disorders. After this admission I was placed with a family with 3 girls with whom I did not have a good connection. I left there and ended up on the street.

I was 20 years old, it was winter and I was standing on the street, with nowhere to go; not to my parents, not to a group and I had no friends. I went to the Youth Care office, but had to leave because I had caused a scene. I was advised to go to the homeless shelter. I spent 3 nights wandering the streets.

I came into contact with a girl I knew from the clinic, she lived in a student room. I lived with her for 9 months. During this time I started following therapy and started thinking about what I want in my life. I knew I had to leave the city, where so many memories lay; away from everything that had taken place there. I decided to take an art course so that I could regain purpose and more structure in my life.

A critical look

I lived in a group for many years and, if possible, I would have preferred to live at home again as soon as possible with good guidance. Life in a group with young people you don't know is hard. Not everyone can perform the job of group supervisor, you must have a lot of qualities to create order, peace and a safe climate in a group. The recurring evaluation conversations felt like assessment conversations. Negative behavior was often magnified. Damaged children often show negative behavior and they should not be compared to healthy developed children. 

A lot has been said about me, but less with me. As a result, we did not always focus on what was really necessary or what suited me well. It is a challenge for a youth care worker to work outside protocols, to use more creativity if this is to provide tailor-made help to a young person. My family guardian has always said to me; 'You can always call me, day or night', I found that very valuable. A permanent contact person was very important to me so that I could build a relationship of trust. It was good of her to speak to both my parents, so that there was clarity for everyone. I always preferred to have conversations in other places than in the office, it is so much nicer to talk in an environment that was familiar to me and less formal.

I have been able to experience at times what it is like to have a 'feeling at home'. A safe place, someone who was always there, doing fun things like going on holiday with the group. That was valuable. Unfortunately, because of all the moves in my life, I had to keep looking for that feeling again and again. It's hard work growing up within institutions; you have to claim your place in the group, you cannot be completely yourself and you have to be careful not to become the 'piss-off'. As a result, I often showed socially desirable behavior and lost who I really was. I still struggle with that sometimes.

Where I want to go

For a long time I felt like I was 'the problem child'. I have a 'youth care stamp' and therefore feel an urge to work extra hard to show that I can succeed in life.

I have been able to give my life a positive spin. The training I am following suits me. I can express my creativity, I love being involved in art and I have a strong bond with my classmates and teachers. They feel like family to me.

I have good contact with my brother and sister again. My brother is not doing well, he went off the rails about three years ago. He is depressed and suicidal and is regularly admitted to a psychiatric institution. I'll continue to take care of him.

I have very little contact with my adoptive parents. My mother has had severe psychoses, she cannot take care of herself but refuses therapy.

My future lies in the art world. I want to continue studying and work hard to further develop my own work. One day I would like to become a mother myself. I am convinced that you do not necessarily have to carry a child to become a mother. Maybe I want to become a foster parent, because every child deserves a safe home.'

In this interview series, young adults tell the story about their youth in a personal capacity. Central to this are their experiences with the youth care chain. Some experiences are good, some less so, some bad. These interviews are intended to allow the child's voice to be heard, and to learn from their experiences. Both the good and the bad. For the privacy of the interviewee, names and some details have been anonymized.

Written by: Andrea Stok