This article is published in partnership with the Fostering AfterCare Podcast.
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So… what do I do now?
That was the question circling in my mind the summer I aged out of foster care. I was attending North Carolina Central University, clinging to my classes while my personal life teetered on the edge. When the system that had promised to step in as guardians suddenly stepped out, it felt cold and sterile, like the air in a hospital room that is clean but void of warmth or comfort.
My stay at my last foster home ended abruptly because of how the CARS agreement worked at the time. There was no conversation, no meeting, and no chance to address concerns. I was told by email to pack my things based on accusations from my foster parent. Under that agreement, if either the young person or the foster parent no longer wanted the arrangement, it ended immediately. In practice, it often meant a youth could be displaced overnight with no plan, no support, and no warning. For us, “aging out” is often less of a transition and more of an eviction.
With just one week to find housing, I leaned on the few family members I had. My aunt lived 3,000 miles away in Washington State. My dad lived two hours away. With their help and the money I had saved from tutoring online, I found a Craigslist room for $450 a month. I stretched my income to cover rent and daily Uber rides. Some days, I walked the long two-hour stretch home in the unforgiving summer heat. I did not have a plan. Most of us do not. For thousands of young people like me, the day the system leaves is the day that question, “What now?,” echoes loudest.
In some states, aging out happens at 18 while in other states, it can happen even up to 26. In North Carolina at the time, it was up to 21 under the CARS agreement. At 19, I was in my second-to-last foster home, working at the SPCA and going to school. I carried the weight of relationship struggles, past trauma, and the pressure of trying to build a foundation. I kept to myself, hoping to avoid conflict, but my foster parents took my quietness personally. Rather than grace or support, I felt judged. This is the case for many young people in care. Some are in college, and some are not, but all deserve stability and patience. When the foundation they are building is pulled from under them, it leaves lasting holes.
The grief in these moments is heavy. It is the grief of another failed relationship layered on top of everything else. Connections built in care often fade when the case file closes. Research shows that without these connections, youth face far greater risks of mental health struggles. I was fortunate to have my guardian ad litem and my therapist, both of whom reconnected with me later in life under new titles of “aunt” and “sister.” They have been part of many pivotal milestones since I aged out like helping plan my wedding and hosting my baby shower. I am deeply grateful for their friendship of more than ten years. This kind of connection is healing. But for many, those relationships never return after aging out. If the few people they trust cannot show up for them, the safety net disappears entirely.
The statistics are sobering. According to the National Foster Youth Institute, “an average of one out of every four youth in foster care will become homeless within four years of aging out of foster care.” Many face higher rates of justice system involvement, early parenthood, and unemployment. While many young adults in the U.S. today continue to rely on their parents for housing and financial support, youth aging out of foster care often face adulthood alone without that safety net. Neuroscience tells us the frontal lobe, which governs decision-making, does not fully mature until about age 25. Yet, foster care support often ends years earlier. I mean, what can we expect to happen when removing resources and relationships during a critical stage?
The conversation should focus on the entire ecosystem of support being strengthened. Without mental health outlets, self-care plans, and community support, burnout is inevitable for foster parents, social workers, therapists, and guardians ad litem. And when the adults leave, whether through resignation or exhaustion, young people lose what connections they had left. If we want better outcomes, we must invest in the well-being of everyone who supports youth in care. That means counseling for caregivers, peer groups for professionals, and training on how to build and sustain healthy relationships that extend beyond the case file.
If foster care were truly designed as a place where young people could heal from the reasons they entered the system, the outcomes would be different. Many adults enter this work with good intentions, but creating a real community of care requires more than intention. It requires that every person involved tends to their own mental and emotional health. When adults are unsupported or burned out, foster care can become another traumatic event layered on top of the original hurt. This leaves young people recovering not just from why they entered care, but also from their time within it. That is too much for anyone to carry.
Change is possible. A healthier vision of foster care must include life-long connections with youth that last well beyond the legal relationship. It must include adults who remain accessible after a case closes, and community members who open networks to create belonging. Policy, cultural and societal practice must catch up to what developmental science has long shown: young people need support into their mid-20s, and resources must be fully funded and implemented. Justice, care, and steadfastness are the foundation of any healthy society. They must guide our policies, our communities, and our commitments to each other.
Aging out should never feel like being pushed off a ledge. It should feel like stepping into a larger room, with people on every side, ready to walk with you into what comes next. The question, “So what do I do now?,” should be met with steady voices, open doors, and hands that do not let go. The deeper question is this: How many more young people must fall before we change the ground they are standing on?
