I grew up in foster care with only a vague story about where I came from, and I learned early not to ask too many questions. Then, at 22, a random Instagram DM from a stranger cracked open my past—and a year later, right before I met my biological dad, my sister grabbed my arm and warned me, “If you go in there without knowing this… you’ll be in danger.”
I grew up knowing one thing about myself like it was stamped on my file: foster kid.
And they were honest about the one big mystery.
A few placements. Some bad. Some okay. One that finally felt like I could breathe.