How I Met My Mother

Before the Adoption

From what I remember, everything started when I was 2. I was in a family that I am told was high in crime level. I do not know the specifics and I'm not sure I ever will, but I will say what I know, or what I think I do, anyway.

My father had sexually, mentally, emotionally, and physically abused my sister. I was only two when I was taken away and thankfully, I don't remember the things that happened to me. But my body does, and I will get to that fact later. I'm trying to go chronologically here.

So, I was taken away and just to warn you, dear reader: it's a very broken-up recollection. Bear with me. I was born on April 27, 1999. My parents were very young and very dumb. My mother died when I was taken away.

Tragic, I know.

My sister and I were separated, and I will never understand why. I used to know the exact number, but I think it was because there was a 10+ year difference. At least that's what I just came up with to comfort myself...I will admit, I've never thought of that before. So, back to the details of why I got taken away.

I'm not entirely sure anymore.

He was a gang member, I know that much. I know he did very bad things. I know that when I was little I used to be able to go visit him, and that one day he just... disappeared. Left me.

The beginning of my life honestly seemed to be nothing but abandonment and death, and people have the absolute audacity to wonder why I am the way I am, haha!

Anyhow, after that, all I can recall is the orphanage, the way that was. I was a child in a place with teenage girls, and they loved messing with me and caring for me at the same time. They were nice, I remember. They used to make me say bad words and laugh at that, and I used to think of them as mean for it. Now, I am 18 and I realize kids are kids, what can ya do?

Honestly, I am so glad orphanages are getting shut down, it's a relief. I didn't get time to be a kid before I was 8 or 9, I just didn't. At the orphanage, we didn't get holidays or proper portions of food. If you didn't make it to dinner or any other meal, you didn't eat. Sorry 'about that.

I wasn't allowed proper and necessary affection, which would spoil me far too much. I was made to be in my room and nowhere else during the day, After a certain time, which was supposed to be bedtime yet was 55 pm I remember being so bored I read the newspaper and of course, the first thing I noticed was the obituary.

It spooked me out and I remember thinking of the ghosts I'd see so often. They scared me, every time I tried to talk to someone about it they rubbed me off, allowing the fear to fester. I can't stand going to showings for funerals, I will get to the deeper reason behind that when it comes around the timeline.

I wasn't in the orphanage all the time, though. And I know this sounds like it'd be good but trust me, it wasn't. Over half of the homes I stayed in created some kind of trauma. The first one didn't, I will say that. She was a nice lady who had no business with a foster child, but she tried and to me, that is all that matters.

I remember she got me into my love for tuna and Harry Potter and cats. I'd fall asleep on the couch watching one of the movies while petting the cat and would wake up in my room because she had taken it upon herself to carry me even though she had no business doing such.

I liked her, I remember that. I was crushed when she had to give me back...the homes I liked staying in always seemed to give me back because I was too hyper-active, too much to handle. That's hard on a kid's conscience, man. I didn't understand what was wrong with me, but I knew there was something. I'm sure you can see now, that the mental illness seeds are being planted...

The next home I remember was damn near the worst. They were cruel...they made me do labor that I couldn't do. I was probably 5, and I was tiny and it was snowing so hard. They made me take the trash out in waist-high snow, telling me I couldn't eat until I did so. My foster brother comes out and dumps it all, and I swear I've never seen such a cruel smile. He did it to me again once I got it all back in the bad, and thankfully after the second time he got bored.

Another time I remember them again tasking me with something ridiculously hard for a little (at the time) girl to do. Between the orphanage and these fuckers, it's no wonder I struggle with eating disorders. To back that up, they'd feed me stuff I was allergic to and punish me for getting sick. They locked me in a dark room and sometimes wouldn't allow me to use the bathroom. I pissed myself of course, and I acquired an odd blister of sorts because of it.

They never laid a hand on me but boy, they figured out that all they had to do was guilt me. My foster mother was so mad that she had to wrap it up every day oh my god...I remember misbehaving in class due to attention deprivation. I was so starved of it that even negative attention was okay. Because of that, to this day I crave and need attention and yet I get plenty of it.

Yet it just is never enough.

Back on track..the situation that cuts the cake the most is when I was left outside in a god-awful thunderstorm while my foster family went out to eat. I was so scared and hungry that I went to the neighbors and they gave me a sandwich and a drink, and not too long after that, I was placed elsewhere.

The next home I remember, was in Utah. (Side note, I live in Indiana, and that's where I was as well). They were the relatives of my dead mother and boy, did they resent me.?This particular story is a little choppy, bear with me again here. Just bear with me through this whole story, honestly.

I remember one time I think I was telling my foster sister or cousin or whatever things about sex. This is normal with kids who are molestation victims, but my foster parents or aunt and uncle didn't understand that or maybe didn't care. They told me, a little kid, that they were calling the police as they locked me in the basement.

What is it with people and locking kids in closets though?

Jeez.

Anyways, another instance after that that sticks out is when my cousin told me that if I didn't do what he said (I can't remember what he had me do..), he'd let his tarantula eat me. Seeing as how he told me this with his portable demon in his hand, I believed him. And it terrified me and made me scared of spiders. I will proudly admit that I am getting better at that.

Little side-note, they also made me walk to and from school and I remember it being rather lengthy, especially in Utah's weather.

After this, I was in a home that I loved the most, but the lady felt she was too old to adopt another kid, so I think she must have taken it upon herself to find me someone good because soon enough, I met my now parents.

This takes us to the next point in my timeline.