A Family of My Own

A Family of My Own

            I had a pretty decent life in my first nine years or, so I thought. I was outside playing one day when we got a visitor. It was the same woman who had been coming once a month to talk to my parents for as long as I can remember. Not once did she speak to me, but on this particular day she wanted to talk to me in private. I felt nervous because I didn’t know who she was or what she wanted. She told me her name was Diane Dykes and that she was a social worker. I asked her what that had to do with me and she told me that she was my social worker. She went on to tell me that I was not living with my real parents. I asked why I was not with my real mother and she told me it was because my mother had physically and sexually abused me. At age nine, my life took a turn for the worse. This revelation caused me to feel uncertain, angry, unwanted, and alone.
            The biggest question I had was, why me? I wasn’t sure who I was anymore. I cried myself to sleep many nights asking “Why God, Why?” Why did I have to endure this kind of life? What’s going to happen to me now? Will I ever live with my real mother? “Home” was a place I no longer knew. I felt that my life was a lie and I was madder than mad.
            Another important detail from this revelation is the way I felt. I felt betrayed because my foster parents didn’t tell me I was not theirs. I had to hear it from some stranger. These people were supposed to protect me from harm.  I would have preferred for them to tell me who or what I was. I was angry at them for letting this happen. I was angry at my mother for having been the reason I was in this situation. I was angry with God. Why? God says he is there at all times and he sees all. He is our great protector, so where was my protection? Why would he let me live a life that was so screwed up? What lesson could I possibly have to learn? I was once a respectful and delightful young man. Not anymore, I was now a delinquent. I ran away from home and I would steal just for the hell of it. I destroyed property. If I felt you wronged me in some way I would pay you back. I was on the defensive and offensive at all times. I was determined to hurt you before you hurt me. These things lead to my feeling unwanted.
            Finally, I figured if God didn’t want to protect me and keep me safe then there was something wrong with me. My mother didn’t do it, my foster parents couldn’t do it, and the state of Maryland wouldn’t do it. I was only nine years old and I didn’t know how to take care of myself. Why would anyone want a child that God didn’t want? Now I was a screwed up kid not worthy of a family’s love. I was alone. I felt that it was me against the world. I didn’t know any other children in foster care so; I had no one on my side. I didn’t trust anyone anymore. I didn’t have any friends and it was better that way. No one could hurt me if I didn’t let them get close to me. I thought I was protecting myself this way and I did, but I also made it impossible for anyone to get to know me.
            Most importantly, my fear of being hurt kept me alone for many years. I am still pissed at Diane Dykes for giving me that information at age nine. I think it would’ve been better to wait until I was older and could handle the information. Realistically God owes me nothing, but I would like an explanation. That will have to wait for a long time; I am not ready to die to get it. I was in my early twenties when I realized that I was not going to get anywhere in life as long as I held on to the past. I finally let someone get close to me and we married in 2003. We have four wonderful children together. I found what I spent my whole life looking for: a family of my own.
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