'My Care Story’ is a series dedicated to amplifying the stories of care-experienced individuals and providing social workers with vital insights to improve the support they offer.
At age seven, Kayla* was taken into care. She was told her mother’s “narcissism syndrome” was to blame.
The entire process was a blur, but the word ‘narcissist’ lodged itself in her mind. It evoked confusion; it was not a word a young child would be familiar with.
When she enquired what the word meant, she was told “bluntly” that a narcissistic person “didn’t care about anyone but themselves”. This would go on to haunt Kayla's childhood, leaving her wondering whether she'd one day wake up to be like her mother.
Years later, now working in children’s social care and well-acquainted with the inner workings of the system, Kayla uses the words “quick” and “traumatic” when referring to her entry into care.
“It was a hard pill to swallow. I was so young; they could have just said, 'You're not going home', and filled in the details later,” she tells me.
“I grew up constantly worrying - I still do – about turning into [my mum], because I didn't have a full understanding of what was wrong with her.”
The placement that became home
It was one of a series of missteps in the way social services supported Kayla.
The foster carers who took her in are still her family today, though their story includes tribulations, separations and a relentless effort to stay connected. She remained under their care until her teenage years and, in that time, she was showered with love and understanding, even when her 'fight or flight' instinct made her pull away.
“Even when I 'misbehaved' or, like any child in a placement would, tried to test the boundaries, they wouldn't freak out. They wouldn't shout at me," she says now.
“They were calm and understanding. From the beginning, they knew they wanted me as their daughter. They didn't give up on me.”
Forcing an unhealthy familial relationship
During that time, her relationship with her mother remained strained.
Kayla describes her social worker as kind and funny, a person who accepted her outspoken nature (“From a young age, I was telling people what I wanted and how I wanted it,” she says).
Her social worker also had an unwavering belief that Kayla's relationship with her mother should be nurtured, ignoring the clear warning signs. If a visit day was coming up, Kayla’s mood would visibly shift, turning low and turbulent.
“[Visiting my mum] wasn't good for me. My [foster] parents would notice the difference in [my behaviour]. I understand why they did it. I do not hold it against them. But my behaviour was obviously displaying that this wasn't a healthy relationship. If they had made that decision [to cut contact] then I feel maybe it would have been easier for me later on.”
'My parents weren't trained about self-harm'
At the same time, Kayla's mental health continued to decline. Statistically, children in care are more likely to experience poor mental health and be at risk of self-harm compared to the general population.
Her depression was spiralling into suicidal thoughts, and she began to regularly self-harm.
Her foster parents were at a loss. With no training in place on how to support her and little advice from social services, their helplessness grew as Kayla's scars multiplied. In the end, her social worker decided it was no longer safe for her to remain there. Despite years of love and effort, the placement broke down.
“My [foster] parents have said that the ending was not what they wanted. They wanted to keep trying to help me but were pushed into a corner and so I had to move,” says Kayla.
“It wasn’t a fast move. They told me, gave me a few days to [process] the thought of leaving, and even took me for dinner at the residential home that I would be living in.”
But their story didn’t end there. Years later, they continue to be her family. Kayla moved back in with them after turning 18 and during our call refers to them as her mum and dad.
“The only thing that has kept me alive was my family,” she tells me.
Supporting lifelong links
Despite Kayla's relationship with her foster parents being a core part of the support system that held her together when she'd plunge into depression, it was often overlooked by services, being disregarded as an “ex-placement”.
Today, lifelong links is a phrase promoted in many good practice guides for children's services.
Originally an approach developed by the Family Rights Group in 2016, it aims to identify the people a child deems important - whether a family member, friend or neighbour- and nurture that relationship so it follows them into adulthood.
Since then, the focus on building lasting support networks around a child in care has sharpened. In his 2022 care review, Josh MacAlister asserted that children should leave the care system with at least two loving, long-lasting relationships, a recommendation he now plans to take forward as children’s minister.
But in Kayla's case, she and her foster family had to fight repeatedly to stay connected, with social workers and children's homes failing to recognise the lifeline her foster parents had become for her.
"Social services for a long time didn't see that they were my family. When I moved to the children's home, there was a lot of trying not to keep that relationship because they didn't think it would last," she says.
"Everybody deserves a family, whether it's blood-related or not. So we just tried and tried. It's been hard, but we made it to the other side."
Being sexually assaulted
Kayla stayed in the residential home for the next two years, with staff stationed there to help her at all times. Her social worker's visits dwindled, though she continued to struggle with suicidal ideation.
"I was in therapy, but it was very up and down. I'd have good days and bad days. I was very suicidal without realising what that actually meant."
Then, at age 16, she was sexually assaulted by another young person in the home.
When she came forward, she was told management would have to take a "non-biased stand", leaving her in agonising limbo for months, waiting for some kind of action while walking the same halls as her abuser. Her mental health deteriorated rapidly.
"I was getting more and more depressed, bursting out quite often."
"That whole time [waiting] I was battling with the thought that nobody believes me.
"I'd already gotten some anxiety around being moved because l had come forward with it. Now every day I thought, "This is it. They're going to move me". I just never expected it to be so quick and brutal."
A move with no closure
The day she was moved began like any other.
Kayla woke up, packed her school bag and headed to school. Then her social worker turned up. Kayla was to move, this time many miles away. She never returned to the children's home.
"There was no closure and [the event] haunted me for a very long time because of that. The people in the home would say, ’We're your family. We'll always be here for you.’ Then they weren't. That was really confusing," she says.
"They moved me because I was hurting myself. I was angry - angry at the world for putting me in this position again. I do think they were a bit like, "Well, what do you want us to do?", which is not a reaction you'd want in general."
Years later, Kayla rejects the notion that the move, which uprooted her from the only environment she'd ever known, was in her "best interests".
Her support network was gone and her allocated social worker abruptly changed, with her new one only making one face-to-face visit for the remainder of her stay in care, to pick her up when she turned 18.
"I understand that you're managing 20 children and you've got one that lives three hours away and it's going to take a full day to go and see them. But I do think that was something they should have been trying to do."
Out of area placements
In the year to March 2025, one in ten children in care experienced three or more placements , while 44% of all looked-after children were placed outside their local authority as of March last year, up from 41% in 2020.
Kayla describes the fallout of constantly moving around in your most formative years as "traumatic".
"I found it really hard to keep relationships and trust people. I didn't have many friends because I was either moving or not wanting them. I feel like sometimes social services don't realise how difficult, life-changing and traumatic moving can be.."
In November 2025, MacAlister pledged action to prevent children in care being placed far from their home.
"Being distanced from the people and places they have known their whole lives and placed in children's homes miles away from their family is not only alienating, it robs them of a solid foundation on which to build a fulfilling adult life, a good education and a rewarding career," he said.
Leaving care
Kayla's final two years in care were life-changing and hard. The new home helped her picture the future and get back into education, holding her hand but never overpromising. She had to make it for herself, they told her.
Turning 18 did not provide a magical solution that improved life. In fact, Kayla was at her lowest when she came out of care, self-harming and using drugs and alcohol to soothe her racing mind. She was constantly in and out of hospital, no longer under the watchful eye of the children's home staff to ensure she was stable.
In the end, her foster mum told her she needed to come home.
"I needed to go home because I had nobody to support me and she knew that I might not have survived if I continued living up there."
Under the care of her foster parents and with the help of her personal adviser, who helped her resume support from mental health services, she slowly begun to heal.
'I want to be the person I needed then'
Kayla's journey through the system is paved with lessons to help steer her career as a children's social care practitioners.
“I want to be that person that I needed; the social worker that a young person knows is there for them, has their back, and will fight for them.”
She understands first-hand that the impact of a social worker's decisions regarding a child’s upbringing can reverberate for years – or decades – to come. It’s a thought she wishes more practitioners carried close when supporting children.
She also refuses to pigeonhole a child before meeting them.
“If you're just reading a chronology and trying to build a picture of that young person, you could be thinking the complete opposite as to who they are,” she tells me.
“You'd be surprised how different they might be as a person or how many things may have been overlooked [in the report]. [Social workers need to] visit the child and talk to them before drawing hard conclusions.”
Looking to the future
She cites her foster mum, who is also care experienced, as a guiding force throughout her professional journey.
Her voice brightens when talking about her, how she channels her experience "as a motivation to do better" and help young people. Kayla herself is following a similar path - her future no longer uncertain.
“The care system has gone through many changes over the past 25 years, but there is still so much more we can do. I want to be a part of that change.”
*Name has been changed
Celebrate those who've inspired you
Do you have a colleague, mentor, or social work figure you can't help but gush about?
Our My Brilliant Colleague series invites you to celebrate anyone within social work who has inspired you – whether current or former colleagues, managers, students, lecturers, mentors or prominent past or present sector figures whom you have admired from afar.
Nominate your colleague or social work inspiration by filling in our nominations form with a few paragraphs (100-250 words) explaining how and why the person has inspired you.
*Please note that, despite the need to provide your name and role, you or the nominee can be anonymous in the published entry*
If you have any questions, email our community journalist, Anastasia Koutsounia, at anastasia.koutsounia@markallengroup.com
