Looking for a home. The Story of Iresha

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 about how things really go at her home. At the age of 15 she is removed from home. She spends her teenage years in various youth care institutions.

Years later she has her own life on track. She lives in Antwerp where she is educated at the art academy and works on her artworks with great passion. This is her story.

Where I come from

I grew up in a family with Dutch parents. After my arrival in the Netherlands, my parents adopted my sister from Colombia. My mother got 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 by the people living on the streets, I threw up.

I didn't understand the purpose of the trip. I had to wait in a hotel room to 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 knew nothing 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 turned more into myself. I had to process the journey and meeting my biological mother. I felt guilty that I grew up in wealth and other children didn't. Santa Claus gifts were no longer necessary for me. The journey 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. All these developments made my mother sick. 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 saying that I should no longer contact her. I 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 was never continued for her, she was also not motivated.

I always took care of my brother and sister because my mother couldn't and my father was always working. I watched the maternity nurse see how she looked after my newborn brother and therefore knew how to give him the bottle. I had to do this because my mother didn't.

We were beaten daily at home and shouted; my father mainly yelled at my brother and my mother yelled at me and my sister. We were not allowed to go outside, our clothes were not allowed to get dirty. Sometimes we were locked in our room and not given any food. There was no mention of 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 so the ball started rolling. That teacher reported to Safe at Home (at the time: the AMK).

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

The days after this conversation at school I didn't dare to do anything wrong. I was so afraid that my mother would "go crazy" and that Safe Home would not believe my side of the story. My mother was the best man to manipulate someone. When I came home from school one day, the social worker had already arrived. I couldn't talk well with this lady because I didn't know how to deal with all the tensions I was feeling. My mother indicated that there was an adoption problem. After this conversation I had to go to my room, I got no food that evening. The misery continued, nothing changed.

Help was provided by the school. I talked to a school social worker. It was hard for me; I loved that people listened to me, but I was also afraid of the consequences if I told honestly how things were going at home.

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

The Youth Care Agency and the Child Protection Board were involved. I don't remember anything about a council investigation. A family supervision order was advised, I was 14 years old at the time. I had to go to court, which I found very exciting. There were many 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 my house is not right 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 couldn't get along well with the other young people who drank alcohol and used drugs.

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

I started to realize that I had to have a plan to live somewhere. It couldn't go on like this any longer. At that moment I had the opportunity to play a role in the youth council of the institution. That felt good! I could do something, I had a purpose and could mean something to myself and others.

When I was 18 years old, the family supervision order expired. I was offered help until I was 21 . My family guardian left Youth Care and I was assigned someone else. I didn't click with her. At the group I had to make room for a girl of 15 years old. I could 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 that had an effect on my life. I had started school, but then stopped again. I was obsessed with sports and developed an eating disorder.

I was transferred to another group. I was 19 years old and was placed with youngsters of 13 years old. This didn't work. A 7-month stay in an eating disorder clinic followed. After this recording I was placed with a family with 3 girls with whom I did not click well. I left there and ended up on the street.

I was 20 years old, it was winter and I was in the street, I had 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 kicked a scene there. I was advised to go to the homeless shelter. I roamed the streets for 3 nights.

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 going to therapy and I started thinking about what I want in my life. I knew I had to get out of the city, where so many memories lay; away from everything that had happened there. I decided to go to art school so that I would regain purpose and more structure in my life.

A critical look

I have lived in a group for many years and if I could, 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 profession of group supervisor, you must have a lot of qualities to create order, peace and a safe climate in a group. The recurring assessment interviews felt like assessment interviews. Negative behavior was often magnified. Damaged children often display negative behavior and should not be compared to healthy children.

A lot has been said about me, but less with me. As a result, the focus was not always 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 has the purpose of being able to help a young person in a tailor-made way. My family guardian has always said to me; 'You can always call me, day and 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 that she spoke to both my parents, so that there was clarity for everyone. I've always preferred conversations in other places than in the office, it's so much nicer talking in an environment that was familiar to me and less formal.

At times I have been able to experience 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. It is hard work when you grow up within institutions; you have to claim your place in the group, you cannot be yourself completely and you have to be careful not to become the 'piss pole'. As a result, I often showed socially desirable behavior and had lost who I really was. I still struggle with that sometimes.

Where I want to go

I have long felt that 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 was able to give my life a positive spin. The training I follow suits me. I can express my creativity, I love working with 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 doing badly, he got derailed about three years ago. He is depressed and suicidal and is regularly admitted to a mental institution. I will continue to take care of him.

I have very little contact with my adoptive parents. My mother has had severe psychosis, 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 be 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. Their experiences with the youth support chain are central to this. Some experiences are good, some less, some bad. These interviews are designed to let the child's voice be heard, and to learn from their experiences. Both the good and the bad. For the sake of the privacy of the interviewee, names and some details have been anonymized.

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