University is an accomplishment for most, but was a source of strain and reflection when I started. I started my college journey at New York University. I was excited for all the possibilities and proud that I accomplished something many who never entered foster care wanted. The dream I had all throughout high school quickly became something of a nightmare. Despite receiving a full-ride scholarship, I was in debt to the university for housing. I was used to having minimal support, but I felt like an outcast. I couldn’t befriend my peers, as they were all in a different financial class. The financial aid office was a desk in a building, and the staff were not very helpful. I didn’t meet any other Chicanx students, or any former foster youth. My roommates in the dorm constantly belittled me for being poor and not having friends or family. I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder and PTSD as the trauma of foster care creeped up on me, in addition to the trauma I was experiencing at my new school. I wasn’t sure if I belonged. I didn’t think I was good enough.
During my second year, I left. I spent all the money I had on a train ticket to San Diego, CA. I didn’t inform the school I was leaving. I didn’t tell my friends or family in Michigan. I didn’t tell my social worker. I just packed all my things in the middle of the night and got on a train. It felt like the worst decision of my life for a while. I was only 19, homeless, alone, and had no idea what I was doing. But I wanted to be back in San Diego where I once grew up with my dad and only had brief encounters with the foster care system. Being away from the negative relationships I built in Michigan and the horrible experience I had in New York turned out to be the best thing I ever did.
After moving to San Diego, I enrolled in community college, went to classes part time, and began taking working seriously. I was promoted to manager at one of my jobs, began renting a room from a friend, and eventually got a car and my own apartment. The year before graduating with my associate’s degree, my cousin was shot, my emotional support parrot died of cancer, and my best friend was in a fatal car crash. Any normal person would find this as a good reason to give up or take a break. But I had been attempting a degree for so long and felt like a failure, so I pushed through. I continued getting good grades and would just spend time crying after class. I found a lot of healing through art, and changed my major to social practice art. Coworkers and peers consistently told me I was strong, but they had no idea I could not afford to fail at school again. Outsiders judged me for my life choices, but I knew that they had no idea what it was like to live life as me.
Now I’m enrolled at the University of California, San Diego. I’m 26 years old and won’t graduate with my bachelor’s degree until I’m almost 30, but I have a lot of the support and experiences I needed when I started college at 17. I needed stable housing, and had to get it myself. I was broke, so I have to work four jobs to be able to sustain the life of a student. I needed to really reflect on the trauma that happened to me in order to be fully focused on my studies. Now I’m able to access therapy. I needed to find out who I was in order to choose a major I enjoy, which I feel only happened because I took the initiative. But most importantly, I needed a healthy and reliable support system. Now I have an amazing group of friends as well as connections with foster youth organizations in California. I was able to reconnect with friends I met before entering foster care and being forced to move across the country. I am a constant work-in-progress, and that’s okay. But I realize now how much support transitional-aged foster youth need that they’re not receiving. We’re expected to succeed in college and succeed in our careers, but who is helping us? Oftentimes, we’re forced to help ourselves. I feel very blessed that my life worked out the way it did, but many foster youth are not as lucky.
