My brothers and I came into care when we were young, after an early life that was far from straightforward. Our journey took us to a number of different foster homes before I and one of my brothers were adopted at the ages of seven and four; our youngest brother was adopted by another family. When I reflect on my own story, there are two things that stand out to me that I’d want any prospective foster carer, adoptive parent or supported lodgings host to know as they prepare to care for children who might have a story similar to mine.

Looking back, I can see that having to move so many times left me with an overwhelming feeling of distrust. I guess you could trace this right back to the beginning, as the people I should have been able to trust most – my birth parents – had been unable to look after me. This feeling became more and more ingrained as I moved from foster placement to foster placement, and it reached a point where I almost expected each new home to fail.

“If I trust them, I’m going to get hurt again.” “Why should this home be any different to the last?” “Let’s not put too much into this, because it’s going to end like they always do.” Even when we were adopted, these words stuck. I wanted things to work, I didn’t want to move again, but fear told me that history would inevitably repeat itself, and I know this had power over my feelings and my behaviour.

There was one person in the world I felt I could trust, and that was my brother. We had been through so much together, we understood each other. So, the fact that we were able to be adopted together was a life-saver for me. Everything else was all of a flux, but he was constant. He was vital.

For a long time, I had basically been his parent, his main caregiver. I was extremely protective of him, and still am to this day. It was hard to let go of those instincts, even after we gained our adoptive parents who really did love us. Looking after him was like my auto-pilot.

I think this probably made things difficult for our family. I often felt the need to step in when our parents were looking after him. This need to care for him probably looked like defiance, like me being troublesome, or getting involved where I shouldn’t.

Often children with care experience can find themselves with labels like ‘naughty’, ‘disruptive’, ‘difficult’ – but when you know what we’re experiencing on the inside, and can see the fearful or protective person behind the behaviours, things might make a lot more sense.

It look a long time for me to believe my adoptive parents loved me. Part of this was due to lack of trust I’ve mentioned above, and part of it was because over time, I’d begun to feel like I wasn’t worthy of love at all. I wanted to be loved, to be wanted, more than anything in the world – but even when I was shown love and care, it was really hard to accept.

My automatic response became to put up a wall. I didn’t want to allow people to get too close. Looking back, I was a cocktail of contradictory thoughts, feelings and actions; in lots of ways, I probably still am.

But even with this wall I had put up, my adoptive parents were committed and steadfast in showing me that I was loved, and I was wanted. They stuck by me through thick and thin, even through situations that would have tested Mother Theresa to her limits. One of the most significant things I remember is that they were always available to talk about anything I wanted to talk about. They were great at going at my pace. You see, there were things that I wasn’t ready to talk about until years after I’d joined the family – and they didn’t push me. They simply listened when I was ready, and that felt so important. You can tell someone that you love them a hundred times with words, but it was action and care like this that really helped me begin to believe it was true.

If I were to speak with someone who was thinking about caring for a child or teenager through fostering, adoption or supported lodgings, I’d want them to know that trust, fear and a longing to be known and loved are huge and significant things for people like me. I’d want them to know that working through some of the associated challenges together might feel hard at times, and could take a while. But I’d want them to know that it’s worth it. I promise, it is so worth it.