I have everything I could ever want or need, I am a very strong Christian, I am a wife and a mom of three children, I have an awesome job of being a doula, My husband manages a bank, my kids have wonderful schools to go to, we’ve never been in debt. It’s hard to believe given that I come from a long line of drug addicts and con artists. My parents had abused and neglected me. When I was ten years old I packed up my belongings in a small suitcase and ran away to the deep dark woods of Colorado. When I got to the woods I found an old abandoned cabin with two bedrooms, one bathroom, a small kitchen, a small living room and a little bathroom. The cabin was brown, it only had two windows in the entire cabin, and it was ancient and tiny. The cabin must have been fifty years old. The wood on the outside of the cabin had termite damage and splinters all over the place, but at that age I didn’t care. I just needed a place to live. I would eat whatever I could find that was edible, such as nonpoisonous berries, birds, fish, and certain kinds of leaves. I remember feeling so lonely in that cabin, but I had no other place to go besides the foster system. I felt that I was too old no one wants to adopt a ten year old. One day something happened that changed my life forever. I found two girls coming towards the cabin the older girl had blonde hair and green eyes, was bone skinny and was very dirty. She was carrying a little girl with black curly hair and blue eyes. She was dirty and bone skinny as well. The older girl’s name was Samantha, She was six years old. The younger girl’s name was Kate and she was one year old and she had Down syndrome. Both girls where covered in bruises. I said to Samantha “what are you doing here?” She replied “Are ...
... middle of paper ...
... and I come from a long line of prisoners. I do not deserve what God has for me now but “ For God so loved the world that he gave his one in only son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life John three: sixteen.” I never got the chance to tell my biological parents about God. So, every other Friday I go to a women’s prison to share Gods word. I love to share the gift of God because everyone needs him they may not realize it, but it is mega important. If I grew up with a different family situation I would not able be to relate to the kind of people I currently minster to. One thing I don’t think a lot of people realize is that there are kids and teens out there that live on their own not just in other countries because it also happens here in the states. I hope my story inspires you and helps you realize about a somewhat forgotten culture.
The orphanage had its up's and downs I remember certain things such as Movie and gave nights. I remember feeling a sense of coldness I had never felt before I was lonely and at times afraid. From there I went to my first foster home I believe her name was Ms. B I think I was about 12 year's old going there. At this time I was use to not being with my mom and being my own man. Yes man at the age of 12, starting off it wasn’t so bad there was another kid there with the same name as mine. He and I use to sit up and talk about what and who we were going to be when you grew up. There were times when Ms. Johnson had her boyfriend come over to the house they would listen to loud music and drink she got so drunk that at times she made Marquise and I stand in the corner all night long for no good reason at all. I remember visiting my mom in rehab telling her all of what she was doing to me how I didn’t want to be there how mean and lonely it was there. I guess I was thinking I was going to go home someday as she was in rehab getting clean from the drugs. The years went by as I still sat in what felt like a prison with its ups and downs. I talked with my case worker about what was going on in the home they later moved me
People look at you like you’re the one to blame. They see your tattered sneakers and tangled, greasy hair, and they think they know you. But how could they? You amble down the sidewalk, keep your head down, your eyes averted. You don’t want any trouble. People are quick to assume that's what you're looking for. Your lips are chapped and your face is dirty. You cannot remember the last time you brushed your teeth, let alone took a shower. The thought makes you laugh almost as much as the thought of your old bedroom walls, the shadows cast by the ceiling fan as you stared up from your bed. You had to leave home. It was taken from you. The adults in your life shifted as you grew older, or perhaps you just grew aware. They took pills or tipped glasses or screamed at you for no particular reason. They kicked you out when you got pregnant, when you got mouthy, when you weren't all they wanted you to be. They got sadistic. They crossed unspeakable lines. You had to leave home. You are barely more than a child. At least, you were before. Now, you are homeless.
I had passed everything and I was on my way to America, but throughout that day i found out that both of my parents did not pass the health inspection and they were headed back to Germany daughterless. On my way to get on the boat a sweet lady in her early 30’s had said that if I didn’t have parents anymore then she would adopt me and I could be hers. She went on and on about how her daughter had died earlier that week and all she wanted was another daughter. After an hour or two of talking I decided that I wanted her to be my new
My life began in Stockton, California on March 29, 1988 at Dameron Hospital. In 1991, I was placed into the system as a foster child still unclear as to if this was voluntary or involuntary. Between the years of 1991 and 1992 I basically lived in a hospital due to my profound injuries. I was stabbed six times, suffered a spinal injury and had to endure several medical procedures to fix the damage. By 1993 at the age of five I was released to the care of my grandmother who cared for me until September 12, 1996 when she died from natural causes. At this point I was shuffled around from group homes to orphanage, from orphanage to foster homes, and from foster homes back to group homes. From 1996 to 2000 I lived in six group homes, four different states, three orphanage and 16 different foster homes. Every awful thing possible that could happen did happen. I was molested, beaten, starved, abandon, homeless, raped, degraded, verbally abused, ……etc. All of the emotional, physical and spiritually abuse I received caused me to be a very confused, resentful, and extremely depressed child. Whose only wish was for this life to end or for things to somehow improve overnight. Although I did have a few good families and some wonderful times but they were so few and far between that they felt more like dreams rather than actual
I grew up in a refugee camp call Dadaab refugee camp. Dadaab is northeastern Kenya. Dadaab refugee camp is the largest refugee camp in the world. The refugee camp has no tarmac road, no railway road and even there is no traffic sign. The house of the refugee camp is made of sticks, clay soil and plastic. When I was 7 years old, I was always the one who volunteered to do any work with in my family, that I can do it. I live a large family that consist my father, my mother, my 5 siblings and my 2 anti. My father is tall, black and slim man. His age is 52. My mother is middle size woman, age 47. She is a beautiful mother, with straight black hair. Her baby face made her to shine.
It had come to the attention of my family that I had some sort of psychological problem and something had to be done. I was always labeled as a shy and quiet kid, and like my family I had thought nothing more of my behavior. However, now it had become something more obvious. I had told my parents the kinds of problems I was having. Basically I didn't want to talk to anyone or to be anywhere near anyone I didn't know. I didn't really want to leave my house for any reason for fear that I might have to talk to someone. I was so critical and scrutinizing in relation to myself that I couldn't even enter into a conversation. Everyone seems to have a part of themselves that lends itself to thoughts of pessimism and failure, but mine was something that was in the forefront of my mind at all times. Something telling me that everything I did was a failure, and that anything I ever did would not succeed. Through discussion with my family it was decided that I should move out of my parents house to a place where I could find treatment and get a job. I was to reside with my sister Lisa, her partner Brynn, and their Saint Bernard in Greensboro.
About three years ago my mom, dad, and sister and I went to our local animal shelter to adopt a puppy that looked like Scrappy from Scooby-Doo.I got out the car and walked to the shelter and heard the sound of dogs barking and whimpering ¨woof,woof¨ and the sounds of kittens meowing,¨meow¨.As I walked in the air pushed the smelly poop and pee that smells like fish guts into my face.Immediately I saw people, kittens as cute as babies, and puppies were blankets inside.As I went to explore I saw blankets and cages as terrifying as prison cells.I was in my own world it was like a fairytale until I heard a person walking toward me and say,¨It's time to fill out paperwork¨.My mom guided me to the chairs that a surprisingly comfy and soft feel.As
The summer of 2004 I had just turned 13 years old. I was like any other kid my age, always running around with my friends, eating junk, and of course being a kid. I had hit puberty four years earlier at the age of nine. I knew that I would start growing breasts and developing into a young woman. My mom was taking care of my three brothers and I in Minneapolis Minnesota. My father was in Jail at that time and was not involved in our lives that much, he was a recovering drug and alcoholic. My mom married a man we shall call Kevin, Kevin was like a father figure and did things for us that our dad was not able to do at that time. I’ve always had a bad feeling about Kevin, in fact when he proposed to my mom I told them I did not want to be in their wedding, I don’t know if it was because he wasn’t my dad or if it was truly because kids can tell when someone has ill intentions. However, my mom loved Kevin and so that meant we had to love Kevin as well for my mom’s happiness, time went by and Kevin grew on my brothers and I, we loved him like a father. I was starting 8th grade that year, which was the same year it was my mom and Kevin’s one-year marriage anniversary. On that day, I was in a garage with people I thought were my friends. What happened in that garage changed my life. I was raped , I constantly said no, I was terrified at what would happen if I told my mom, what would go through her mind, what would happen to me, what would the other kids think if they found out. That day has been hidden inside me for ten years and not a soul has been told. The next day the brother to the rapist was told that I had a train ran on me, and he wanted to have sex with me. He already passed the age of 18. He was a friend so while everyone else wa...
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe once said that, “What is not started today is never finished tomorrow.” Every year millions of people try to change their old ways into good habits. To be a better person people feel that they should do better to be better. This year I will be more organized, not procrastinate, and live everyday like it could be the last one.
My whole childhood I raised myself, surviving on the Social Security benefits I got from my father’s being deceased. The school supplies and materials I needed all came from monies I received from the government. I can’t even remember the last time my mother bought me something with her own money. Without gas money, she wouldn’t take me to school half the time, so I often walked at least an hour every day to get there and back. My mother often sent me to live with my grandma for weeks at a time while she partied. She would come home for a day, grab a bag full of clothes, and leave, with no word about when, if ever, she was coming back. I remember crying and shouting, “If you love me, you’ll stay.” I always got a hand shoving me back and a door slammed in my face.
Praise God; that was the phrase I would here every morning when my dad would drop me off for school. Although my family has gone through many hard times, they have grown to know Christ and wanted to share that with their kids. I grew up in the kind of household that if you said “shut up” then you were going to be spanked several times. I knew one thing on Sunday morning and Wednesday nights; you go to church. Church became a hobby to me, I didn’t hate going there but it was just what you did. I thought that all families were like that also, I didn’t realize till my teenage years that not everyone goes to church every Sunday morning and Wednesday night. But as I grew older and started really listening to what my friends would talk about at school, I saw that life wasn’t all about going to church and being a Christian for some people.
Have you ever had a time when a topic you are not interested in might is suddenly interesting to you? Well, that happened to me a while back. It all started with my philanthropy class back in high school. My business teacher informed us of a field trip to a non-profit organization called CASA (Court Appointed Special Advocates). I wasn’t interested in going, to me, it just sounded like a boring place to be at. The day of the field trip arrived and like any other person, I had the annoyed attitude on already. As, we arrive at the facility a tension feeling was present. As I walked inside some pictures of children on the wall intrigued me, but I didn’t attention to them and ignored them thinking that they might have been pictures of children that had attended an event they sponsored. As the presenter started talking about the mission of the organization, he grabbed my attention after he finished talking about abused and neglected children.
Entering into the aerobics room, I see people stretching like a cat waking up from its morning nap. The instructor, a woman with nicely placed wrinkles, named Joanne, is beginning the first exercise. Everyone becomes excited like a child getting a birthday present, however, they knew it will be an intense workout, especially me. The music turns on and the sound of the bass cloaks the entire room. The first exercise commences, and my heart quickens to each thump in the music. The desire to punch and kick all of my stress fills me up like pouring a glass of water. Having this type of feeling shows that kickboxing has this power of relieving stress and I knew from then on that it would be a class that I would continue to take.
J.K. Rowling once said “Poverty entails fear and stress and sometimes depression. It meets a thousand petty humiliations and hardships. Climbing out of poverty by your own efforts that is something on which to pride yourself, but poverty itself is romanticized by fools,” and this really resonates with me as my family has always struggled with money. It was this state of poverty that has stayed with me my whole life and defined who I am today.
Today was the worst day of my life. My mom gave me good and bad news. The bad news was so horrible. The good news was very surprising. The bad news was so bad, that I started crying. My mom told me that I was MOVING!!!