Dear Marsha,
I know that you don't care. But I feel that I cannot sit still and say nothing while you continue to fight and attempt to slur my family. Most of our life history is in the home study, so I know that you have read that Paul was abused as a child and that I am not speaking to my mother, a situation which unfolded during the time that we fostered M. and K. and certainly affected my outlook on motherhood.
Paul and I became a couple in January 1998. Our first child together was born in November of 1999. In October of 2000, Paul became bedridden with crippling pain. He had been in a car accident as a young man, rear ended by a careless driver, sending him through the windshield of his and his (now ex-) wife's Malibu, and yanked back in by his seat belt. His head, his arms, and his back were torn and bloodied. He was in severe pain, even after the wounds were healed. He was eventually diagnosed with Reflexive Sympathetic Dystrophy, now known as Chronic Regional Pain Syndrome. In the eighties, they were still not sure how to treat this and he ended up addicted to the narcotics that were prescribed for the pain. He went through treatment, and without boring you with the details, his life fell apart. October 2000 was my first experience with the severity of his chronic pain. I pursued every possible avenue of help for him. His doctor recommended therapy as part of treatment. The therapist uncovered the childhood abuse and diagnosed my husband with bipolar disorder. You, as an educated advocate for traumatized children, must have read the ACE study. We now know that severe abuse can manifest in illness. Paul has since had a psychiatric evaluation and found to be in full recovery...I tend to doubt the original diagnosis myself, and believe that his tendency toward pain is partly because of the car accident, and partly because of the childhood trauma. I believe his recovery was due to both our commitment to learn everything we could about being physically and mentally healthy. In the end, he became a vehement advocate for recovery. We were licensed as foster parents in 2001. We have always been up front about our past experiences, believing that the truth catches up with you in the end anyway, and that coming as far as we have with what we have endured is a testament to recovery. We believe people can recover from mental illness and lead full, rich lives.
As I said, I know that you don't care. You are at war with us because we didn't bend to your will a year and a half ago, when you used treatment to coerce an adoption. I know that you and the other members of the team don't believe the truth in what we say about the behaviors that we have seen with M. and K. I know that we are accused of attempting to prolong the process in order to collect more money as treatment parents. I know that we are accused of overreacting and seeing normal childhood behaviors as extreme evidence of diagnoses. I know that you have never been groped by K. or witnessed one of M.'s tantrums, and I believe in my heart that you would never be able to handle the things that I have seen in my home in the past three years, much less endure the kind of treatment we have received at your hands.
We have an exemplary record as foster parents. I don't know why the records from before 2006 were not turned in to whomever they were to be given to, but I assure you, you will find nothing but good. However. I am at an end. I am in tears as I write this letter (again, not that you care at all)... I am sure someday the children will have words to say to the woman the judge praised today. I am positive that God has little respect for what you are doing. Ambiguous is an interesting word. It's mean. I was torn. It has been an exhausting job, caring for M. and K. Did I want to do it forever, after what I had heard from Dr. Mailloux? I know his report seems innocuous. Did you ask him to tell you his story of trying to adopt an R.A.D. child? (Feel free to forward this on to him). He told us some pretty horrifying things. I would have been a fool not to take them seriously, not to want to reflect on them before saying yes to an adoption. A fool not to question the therapist who told us for two years that the child had no R.A.D., not to question the therapist who told us she had never supported them being in our home in the first place, yet put us through two years of twice weekly appointments. One year ago you wanted us to adopt, and as soon as we said no, that we need to try more therapy to feel confident in making a permanent decision, we became bad people. How is this rational?
I am so tired, Marsha. You have beaten me down. I love my family dearly. I love M. and K. I do not want to make the wrong decision here. I have prayed and prayed for the strength to get through this. I prayed and prayed over the decision of whether or not to adopt. I don't know if you believe in prayer. I do. I struggled. I will admit that freely. In the end, my decision came down to this; M. and K. are loved here. They have made progress here. We know them better than anyone else does. I believe that in our home they will flourish. No matter how hard the job gets to be for me personally, I made the decision to give them what they deserve. To stay in their home. I believe in prayer and I believe that I am making the choice God wants me to make. It wasn't easy...I never will say that it was. I am not a liar, and their behaviors are real, regardless of what the school says. I'm sorry that you don't believe us. I don't know how much more truthful we could be.
Tell me, please, what should I do now? I don't want to quit, but I don't want to fight anymore. I am hurt and I am tired. If you intend to attempt to destroy my life in order to get your way, I think I will go ahead and step aside now. I just don't feel strong enough to do this anymore.
Sincerely,
Alicia Cornils
I know that you don't care. But I feel that I cannot sit still and say nothing while you continue to fight and attempt to slur my family. Most of our life history is in the home study, so I know that you have read that Paul was abused as a child and that I am not speaking to my mother, a situation which unfolded during the time that we fostered M. and K. and certainly affected my outlook on motherhood.
Paul and I became a couple in January 1998. Our first child together was born in November of 1999. In October of 2000, Paul became bedridden with crippling pain. He had been in a car accident as a young man, rear ended by a careless driver, sending him through the windshield of his and his (now ex-) wife's Malibu, and yanked back in by his seat belt. His head, his arms, and his back were torn and bloodied. He was in severe pain, even after the wounds were healed. He was eventually diagnosed with Reflexive Sympathetic Dystrophy, now known as Chronic Regional Pain Syndrome. In the eighties, they were still not sure how to treat this and he ended up addicted to the narcotics that were prescribed for the pain. He went through treatment, and without boring you with the details, his life fell apart. October 2000 was my first experience with the severity of his chronic pain. I pursued every possible avenue of help for him. His doctor recommended therapy as part of treatment. The therapist uncovered the childhood abuse and diagnosed my husband with bipolar disorder. You, as an educated advocate for traumatized children, must have read the ACE study. We now know that severe abuse can manifest in illness. Paul has since had a psychiatric evaluation and found to be in full recovery...I tend to doubt the original diagnosis myself, and believe that his tendency toward pain is partly because of the car accident, and partly because of the childhood trauma. I believe his recovery was due to both our commitment to learn everything we could about being physically and mentally healthy. In the end, he became a vehement advocate for recovery. We were licensed as foster parents in 2001. We have always been up front about our past experiences, believing that the truth catches up with you in the end anyway, and that coming as far as we have with what we have endured is a testament to recovery. We believe people can recover from mental illness and lead full, rich lives.
As I said, I know that you don't care. You are at war with us because we didn't bend to your will a year and a half ago, when you used treatment to coerce an adoption. I know that you and the other members of the team don't believe the truth in what we say about the behaviors that we have seen with M. and K. I know that we are accused of attempting to prolong the process in order to collect more money as treatment parents. I know that we are accused of overreacting and seeing normal childhood behaviors as extreme evidence of diagnoses. I know that you have never been groped by K. or witnessed one of M.'s tantrums, and I believe in my heart that you would never be able to handle the things that I have seen in my home in the past three years, much less endure the kind of treatment we have received at your hands.
We have an exemplary record as foster parents. I don't know why the records from before 2006 were not turned in to whomever they were to be given to, but I assure you, you will find nothing but good. However. I am at an end. I am in tears as I write this letter (again, not that you care at all)... I am sure someday the children will have words to say to the woman the judge praised today. I am positive that God has little respect for what you are doing. Ambiguous is an interesting word. It's mean. I was torn. It has been an exhausting job, caring for M. and K. Did I want to do it forever, after what I had heard from Dr. Mailloux? I know his report seems innocuous. Did you ask him to tell you his story of trying to adopt an R.A.D. child? (Feel free to forward this on to him). He told us some pretty horrifying things. I would have been a fool not to take them seriously, not to want to reflect on them before saying yes to an adoption. A fool not to question the therapist who told us for two years that the child had no R.A.D., not to question the therapist who told us she had never supported them being in our home in the first place, yet put us through two years of twice weekly appointments. One year ago you wanted us to adopt, and as soon as we said no, that we need to try more therapy to feel confident in making a permanent decision, we became bad people. How is this rational?
I am so tired, Marsha. You have beaten me down. I love my family dearly. I love M. and K. I do not want to make the wrong decision here. I have prayed and prayed for the strength to get through this. I prayed and prayed over the decision of whether or not to adopt. I don't know if you believe in prayer. I do. I struggled. I will admit that freely. In the end, my decision came down to this; M. and K. are loved here. They have made progress here. We know them better than anyone else does. I believe that in our home they will flourish. No matter how hard the job gets to be for me personally, I made the decision to give them what they deserve. To stay in their home. I believe in prayer and I believe that I am making the choice God wants me to make. It wasn't easy...I never will say that it was. I am not a liar, and their behaviors are real, regardless of what the school says. I'm sorry that you don't believe us. I don't know how much more truthful we could be.
Tell me, please, what should I do now? I don't want to quit, but I don't want to fight anymore. I am hurt and I am tired. If you intend to attempt to destroy my life in order to get your way, I think I will go ahead and step aside now. I just don't feel strong enough to do this anymore.
Sincerely,
Alicia Cornils
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