Who am I?

It all started in Pacific Northwest, in a small town near Seattle Washington. This is where I originate. I was born at 11:26 pm, in the Springtime. My mom was watching the town’s youth parade on TV, since she didn’t have the courage to go out 9 months pregnant in a crowd of parade goers. All of a sudden, with what she thought was her water breaking, she looked down to find blood leaking through her pants. In a panic, she called my aunt. My aunt rushed back home from work, and brought my mom to the hospital as quick as she could. There had been a placenta abruption, and I needed to come out as soon as possible. The doctors struggled to get me out, and wanted to do a C-section, but my grandma, now there, refused that. So the doctors then brought out a tool that looked like a plunger. They inserted this tool, and attached it onto the crown of my head. And this is how I entered the world. Frail, and a bit purple. No crying. But despite the horror that my mom and close relatives went through, I was fine. Little did I know, that was only the beginning of a tough life.

My mom had me at only 18 years old, and my dad wasn’t much older than her. They both had records with the police, and drug use in their early teen lives. This was not a great start to raising a baby. My parents were never officially together, as that just wasn’t in the plan.

My dad was arrested for a warrant right before I was born, so he wasn’t there for the birth. The first time that my dad saw me was at the state prison, through a glass wall. Over the years, my dad would be in and out of prison, and I never really got to know him too well because of this. My mom soon had a new man in her life, when I was just 2 years old. I quickly grew so close to this new guy that my mom was with, that I considered him to be my dad. We did everything together. He sparked my love for music, for writing, and for poetry. He was so passionate in everything he did. I wanted to be just like him when I grew up. Little did I know, deep down he was struggling with his own demons of drug addiction and depression. He sure didn’t show it. It was on one fateful day that my new step dad decided to take his own life. This was probably the worst day of my life. I didn’t know why he would do such a thing. I was only 8 years old at the time. Suicide does not eliminate the pain. Maybe for the person committing the act, but the pain passes along to someone else.

After this event, my mom became depressed. After all, she had had another child with this man, and he was the love of her life. Now, my 2 year old sister and I would eventually have to fend for ourselves, because my mom would enter a slippery slope that she simply could not escape. She too would fall to drugs. But before this happened, she became pregnant with a different man’s child, someone she had just met. She soon realized that she could not raise another baby on her own, so she decided to give her 3rd and final daughter, my new sister, up for adoption. This tore her apart, and would only come to make her battle with drugs and depression worse.

One year later, while things were still healing up from my step dad’s death, and I was numb, I was about to endure more trauma. My biological dad, the one who spent most of his early adult life behind bars, had overdosed. It was during the year after my step dad died that he was released from prison, and had made efforts to get to know me better. I clinged to him, since my step dad, the man I adored, was no longer on this earth. Hearing the news that now he too had died was one of the hardest things I had ever heard.

My mom would now fall so far, to the point where I would spend most nights watching my toddler sister till all hours of the morning, causing me to miss school the next day. At just 10 years old, I was sent by CPS to live with my maternal grandma, and my sister was sent to live with her paternal grandma. This was tough, and I missed my mom every day.

I used writing as an escape, and it helped me through the foster home that I would later have to move to. Eventually, I was put up for adoption, my mom’s rights were eliminated, and I was adopted at age 13 by a new family.

I had my ups and downs with this new family, mainly because of their beliefs and regulations. It was hard to adjust to such a new lifestyle, coming from a different background. But I am very thankful to have been adopted. In the time I spent away from my biological mom, she was able to go to rehab, and get sober. She has now been sober for almost 7 years.

Now, at age 22, I have formed a new relationship with my mom, one that is stronger today than ever. We talk on a daily basis, and I am a lot happier because of this.

I still continue to write, and I have other interests, which include fashion and art.

That was a little about me for steemit. Some may think it’s really personal, but I find sharing my story to be helpful in the healing process of it all.

If you liked this, feel free to resteem and upvote.

Will be covering more on the adoption system, suicide, and similar topics in the near future.