This is the part where my story will start to unfold. When I was young I knew I had a gift as far as being able to read between the lines and see people for who they really are. My story is very complicated or confusing with all the people involved.While in Foster care and into my adoption I remember experiencing things I know no young child should have to. I use to ask myself why is this happening? what did I do wrong? Why am I not lovable? So many questions. I know the people that I was involved with through my entire life had their issues and really no reason as to why the treatment and actions by these people were done to my sister's and I. Here is where I will go into the part of my first adopted family. The first adopted family came to visit for the first time in Brownsville Texas. They had Visited a few times. I remember one of the visits in particular because of how I felt. I had asked the adopted mother if I would be allowed to have colored marshmallows as a snack. The adopted mother answering "well of course." There was something about her response that gave it away in her voice that she was lying and that something was off. Her whole demeanor and voice gave me the only worst feeling. I don't remember a lot but that moment I've never been able to forget though, and it was the tone in her voice that I picked up something not right about her. I didn't like my adopted mother since day one.There was just something I never liked about her. It will slowly all begin to make sense further into my story. One thing I've never forgotten was the day when we left foster care. I was so angry and upset about leaving where I was comfortable and knew to be "home". I don't remember how exactly it happened because the day we ended up leaving we were not even aware we wouldn't be returning. It would be goodbye forever. I know we had walked out of a building what seemed like a court house. I had been crying because of being told I was leaving my foster mom. She had tried to comfort me with some gum. I still remember the flavor juicy fruit. I remember asking her why are you letting them take me away. My heart was so broken. This memory has always brought me to tears. As it was getting closer to leave I started getting anxious. I started crying uncontrollably, and started to yell for her my foster mother “mama chalito “ like don’t let these people take me. She had said goodbye rather quickly to hide any form of emotion from me. She wanted to be strong and not leave me with a memory of sadness not how she wanted me to remember her. So I've told myself. She headed to her van. She waved bye and never turned back after that to see me one last time. I felt like it was just as hard for her as it had been for me. I remember the birth mother grabbing me and trying to carry me to the van. I sat in her lap on the ride to our new home. I was crying, kicking on the dash and pinching her. I knew then I didn't want her to be my mother. I soon learned we can't pick who our parents are. Being so young we didn't have much say in anything what it seemed like. There wasn't any good that came out of that home.
It's sad because there was hardly any good memories I remember. All just bad and a lot of hurtful and painful memories more than anything. I know going into that family it wasn't bad and abusive right away. As a little girl I remember being in our room with my sisters and the foster mom telling us about the things in the room what we were allowed to mess with and not touch. We weren't allowed to be around a adopted sister because the adopted mother felt she was a bad influence. She was kept in a room in the end of the house. Not even two weeks after we moved in with the family the girl was sent away to a all girls home. I just remember thinking it was weird and wondering what was it she had done. There were days we were allowed to play with my sisters and spend time together. It would always consist of lego playing or the tower blocks. Sometimes drawing and coloring. Things began to change rather quickly with having our freedom and having the privilege to be little girls. My foster dad had a catering business and let me tell you he made the best food. He loved cooking and being able to share that with other people. I remember one of those days, the family was up there. The foster mother was yelling at the older adopted son who she always seem to have an issue with. I remember walking in. I don't know what I was even doing in there but watching her yell and then slap him across the face where she left a big red hand print. I must have had a look of fear on my face she sure didn't expect me to be there to see that. She had walked over to me and said you don't have to be afraid of me. I would never do that to you. He wasn't listening and he had to be punished. From that day on out things changed And it was just a matter of time before things got worse. My sisters and I were treated as a burden or as if we were nothing but dirt.The adopted mother had her favorite kids one being a blind boy she had adopted and raised herself. There was her biological son who they never expected to have due to the beginning not being able to have children when they wanted that she favored as well. Which thats when they turned to adoption. Then had there son which changed everything. Any child she recieved as a infant she favored and focused more on them. The last baby she did have she focused all her time on. She was sick she had epilepsy and some other issues that played a big part of her life and didn't allow her to live very long. Life for my sisters and I wasn't easy. At the time I really didn't know what to think but asked myself "why is this happening," "I know its not supposed to be like this in a family," "I wonder what happened to them to make them treat us this way." Nothing bad happened to the adopted parents as to why they are were abusers. She had a life where she wasn't abused or neglected. Her family loved and cared for her who she seemed to push away. As for my adopted dad he grew up with not a lot of money and with his single mom. I do believe he went through some things some lost loved ones in his life. He wasn't evil and as hurtful as the adopted mother, but he did take part in the abuse to make the lady happy, and not to deal with the bad end of the stick from her. The adopted dad did have disabilities and suffered from several tumors, diabetes and epilepsy. Life for him wasn't easy with all the health problems. Life isn't always fair. I get that but life shouldn't have been so cruel and hurtful for a 4,5, and 6 year old. We were kids and they were supposed to be parents not someone we feared and dreaded to be around. I will never forget my first beating. I don't remember exactly what I had done just remember I had lied about it, and the adopted mother said I needed to be punished. So she took me to the laundry room where she told me to strip from my shirt and skirt. She told me to grab my ankles and she had a rod ones you buy at Wal-Mart by the craft stuff. She used one of those to spank me where she began hitting me starting at my legs working towards my butt and my back. I was crying, and jumping around. I had never experienced something like that. The adopted mother said she wouldn't stop till I stopped crying and was still. I was thinking she was crazy. That day hate began to grow in my heart. I knew I hated her. She went to far that night and she had beat me and expected me to love her inspite of all that. The beating was over 15 times where she hit me over and over. I thought it was never going to end. Little do I know it would be done on a daily. I wasn't expecting that. I was thinking she would only do 1 or 2 spankings, but she didn't. I know she didn't like me she always referred to me as angry, bitter and hard to love. I remember being so angry going back to my room and sobbing. My sisters asked if I was okay but I was so angry I just ignored them...I will contuine to talk about everything that went on. I am stopping for today.. I just wanted to put one of the experiences out there of the pain and hurt experienced as a kid. I am sharing my story for the sole reason to get my story out there for other survivors of such abuse. I want to have my voice and be able to talk about my experience so I can continue to heal. The pain and memories won't ever go away I choose to share my journey.
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