1.Living in a children's home.

I ended up living in a children’s home when I was 13. 

Little background story first so you know why and how I ended up living in a children’s home.   

I’m from an alright family. My mom is a “normal” caring mom who would do anything for her children. She sometimes struggled with her own mental health. My dad loves me so much, but he has a drug addiction. That affected my life quite a bit. He tried to be the best dad he could, but most of the time drugs won and I lost. My dad promised me the moon and stars from the sky, and my mom did everything she could to fulfill that impossible promise. I got in an argument with my mom, and my dad turned out to be like my sibling and talked in horrible ways about my mom with me.  

             MY STORY AND EXPERIENCE. 

 By the time I was 6,  I already knew how drugs work and what jails are. By the age of 10,  I saw my dad more high than sober. At the age of 12,  I wanted to belong somewhere so badly that I started to hang out with the wrong people. I didn’t want anybody ever to abandon me, like my dad did most of the time. So I did everything I could so people would like me. I hung out with older people who smoked cigarettes and already drank alcohol. Some of them lived in children’s homes. I was jealous because they made it look so cool and that in a children’s home there are no rules. By the age of 13, I had my teenage angst on, and I had a bad relationship with my mom. I couldn’t understand why I had so “strict” rules. I needed to be home by 9, and I thought that that was too early, and I wasn’t allowed to smoke cigarettes or hang out with those wrong people.  

I was annoyed that my mom couldn't understand that I needed to smoke cigarettes so I would be cool. I started smoking at the age of 12. In my head was that if I lived in a children's home, I would not need to take any responsibility for my actions, and could do whatever I wanted. So I ran away from home for one night, and got what I wanted. I ended up in a children’s home at the end of November 2019. At first, I thought that it was nice, but after all realizing that it would be much nicer to live at home. Sadly, I was already too deep in things, so I was not allowed to go home anymore. I started drinking often, and smoking weed almost every day. I started skipping school in 7th grade and ended up being transferred to a reform school in February 2020, at that time I was 14 years old. 

 At first, that place felt like a nice summer holiday camp, but after a while, reality hit me hard. From that point, it started going downhill. I realized that the school there wasn’t good enough. I was doing Swedish as my first language, but they didn’t have qualified teachers in that reform school, so I couldn’t do that anymore. I started using hard drugs like amphetamine/speed, buprenorphine/Subutex, benzodiazepine/Rivotril, and just everything I could get my hands on. I started running away from that place and began acting out in every way possible. I was badly depressed and sometimes even hurt myself because I couldn’t figure out what else to do. I felt so hopeless. 

 In the whole reform school, there were about two workers who actually did anything to keep us children safe. One of them was a middle-aged woman; she knew my thoughts and stupid ideas before I even knew them. She was always one step ahead. She called my mom and apologized if I ran away when she was working, even when it wasn’t her fault. She sometimes used her authority incorrectly and let her unprofessional attachment show, but who wouldn’t do that sometimes? At least she cared about us with her whole heart. She put her whole heart into the job. The other worker was younger, under 30 years old. I always called her “the teenage adult.” She was sometimes in a bad mood, but she always explained why it was and that it was not our fault. One time I ran away, and she somehow knew where I was. She did everything she could to get the address. She waited many hours outside of the house so she could see me or hear my voice, and then she could call the police to get me. Without those two workers, I would probably be dead. I am forever thankful to them. Everybody else in that place couldn’t care enough to do all of that work to keep us safe. If somebody ran away or tried to hop on a bus, they just wished the best and said, “Just think one more time, is that worth it?” We didn't need a moral lesson; we needed somebody to tackle us down and not allow us to get away.  

Why did I use drugs?

-First I did it because I was pressured and I thought that it can’t be that bad, because dad does it.

-Then I just felt that that’s where I belong and that is my life. At least I finally have my own “community” where I wasn’t bullied.

-Then I felt that I needed it and I was mentally addicted. I feel like I have never been physically addicted but have had bad withdrawals.

-And mostly I didn’t have time to worry about anything when I was high.

Where did I get drugs?

-Funniest thing is that I bought my first hard drugs from that reform school. That should be the place where I am safe but no.

-Also other kids in there taught me where and how to get drugs.

Why was I running away from that reform school?

-I felt trapped. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t feel understood there, so that made me feel unsafe. Sometimes because the workers used power wrong and sometimes other children were so aggressive and the workers didn’t do anything about it because they didn’t want to get hurt or cause “drama”.

Why did I feel so hopeless?

-I didn’t know how to handle my emotions. Mostly when I felt bad I was just screaming and being nasty. And I knew that that isn’t the right way, but at that time I didn’t know how to talk through my feelings. I was just hoping that even one person would see through my pain and ask “what’s wrong?”.

-Light at the end of the tunnel 15.1.2025