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About Me

Monday, April 21st, 2008 4 comments

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–>< After reading Twinkstar’s blog post about how she was adopted, and how this affected her, I decided that I was going to share my story as well.

As I have said before, I’m adopted, as is my younger sister. I wasn’t adopted when I was baby, I was adopted when I was much older, I was probably about 11 or 12. However, the wheels of our adoption had been in motion for a long time, at least since I was about 5, maybe even 4, years old. Outside of various bits and pieces of this story, I really don’t think that I’ve told anyone my story.

My mother was an alcoholic, smoked, and did drugs (crack, and others that slip my mind). During her pregnancy with me, her habits never changed, though I was told that she did curb this for the duration of her pregnancy with my sister (The effects of this, I’ll get into in another post). In fact, I was told that hours before I was born my mother was in crack house, getting high, and after I was born she would take me with her, when she to crack houses. About three months after I was born, my father left, I guess he couldn’t stand to be with my mother anymore, although from what I’ve been told he loved me (in fact, he once beat the crap out of my sisters father because he broke a window that was in my bedroom when I was only a couple of months old).

When I got older she would leave me, my sister, and my older brother alone, with my older brother, who I’ve been told wasn’t the best babysitter. My early childhood was one of abuse and neglect. My mother would always put getting her drugs ahead of putting food in our stomachs. in fact, once my grandparents bought my mother a lot of groceries, only to discover that she was selling the food out the back door for drug money.

And when she wasn’t selling our food for drug money, things weren’t that much better. While she and boyfriend were eating at the table, me and my two siblings were forced to eat our dinner on the floor with my sisters dog. And with that dog, you had to eat your food quickly or you were SOL. And I was often one SOL, in fact that happened to me so many times that I had a habit of hunching over my food and guarding it like an animal. My grandmother told me this story from when I was a little kid, occasionally I would call them really early in the morning and ask for a double cheeseburger, or two, and for a large fry, all for myself, and I would virtually inhale them (mind you I was very young).

My brother was 9 years older than me, and when he went to school, me and my sister were left alone in our house or with a mother who could care less what we did. You can imagine how happy we were when he got home, so one day, I was really excited when he got home, I came out running, and I fell, and I got my head stuck on the railing on our porch. Yeah, it took a while to get me unstuck, but they were able to finally get me unstuck, and I had this mark on my forehead from having it stuck in the railing. I don’t even think that my mother even cared about whether I was OK, or even noticed that I had a mark on my forehead.

Another time, everyone went to the beach, and I was really young, and I didn’t know how to swim, and I went to far out in the water, to where it was really deep, and I nearly drowned. I was yet again saved by my older brother. And yet again, I don’t think she even cared if I was OK. One day I was at a day camp, and they had this little wading pool that went up to a little past my shin, and I just stood there, absolutely terrified. In fact, at our house after we moved in with our grandparents, we had a pool in our backyard, it was about 4 ft tall, well above my head, and when we went in we had an adult in there with us, and we had the jackets on, but I never stayed in the water, I would always have to be in the blow-up raft. My uncle would try to get me go swimming, and he would tell me that if I couldn’t go into the raft unless I spent five minutes in the water, sure enough after I had spent those five minutes in the water, I would climb into that raft.

As bad as things were with my mother, things were so much worse with her boyfriend. Where she didn’t care about what happened to me or my siblings, he just straight up abused me. All of my memories of my childhood with my mother are virtually nonexistent, the fact that I know what happened to me is only because I was told about these by my grandmother or by my brother. I have been only told one story about the abuse that I suffered at the hands of my mothers boyfriend. I don’t know why, but one day he decided that he would tie me up with a rope to the garage door. I don’t know how long I was tied up, however, I know that when I was let down I had a serious problem with rope. In fact, after I moved in with my grandparents, they were building a little play scape, and it had a rope for climbing on. Upon sight of the rope, I just went into what my grandmother described as a seizure. Another time, I was at a day camp, and they had this little wading pool that went up to a little past my shin, and I just stood there, absolutely terrified. In fact, at our house after we moved in with our grandparents, we had a pool in our backyard, it was about 4 ft tall, well above my head, and when we went in we had an adult in there with us, and we had the jackets on, but I never stayed in the water, I would always have to be in the blow-up raft. My uncle would try to get me go swimming, and he would tell me that if I couldn’t go into the raft unless I spent five minutes in the water, sure enough after I had spent those five minutes in the water, I would climb into that raft.

Things were so bad for me, that I was actually forbidden from leaving the state of Michigan with my mother, so that when my two siblings went on a vacation with our mother, I had to stay here. Finally one day, when I was about 3 or 4, the people from Child Protective Services came and got us. They tried to get the rest of the family to take us in for foster care, however, no one else except our grandparents would take us in. Following their taking us in, our mother gave up her parental rights.

Then when I was 10, my mother died. A drug overdose, and I felt absolutely nothing at the news. All her funeral was to me, was a gathering of some people that I didn’t know, or knew but didn’t remember, all to mourn the loss of a woman that I didn’t know, but somehow was related to. I feel horrible about saying this, but at that point, my grandmother had become more of a mother to me, than my own biological mother was.

To this day, I find myself wondering if I could have somehow forged a relationship with my mother and what kind of relationship we would have had if she managed to straighten out her life. And occasionally I’ll find myself considering whether I should look for my biological father, and see if I can some kind of relationship and find out if I have other half-siblings, but than I figure that if he wanted to find me, he would have by now.

To this day, I still deal with the effects of everything that I went. True, while I don’t have seizures of terror whenever I see a rope any more, there are still long lasting psychological effects that I have to deal with. Except for some very fleeting, vague and happy memories, I have absolutely no recollection of my childhood. And I find it very difficult to open myself to very many people, and I have to know them and trust them very explicitly. I also find it difficult to make friends because to do so, would be opening myself up to being hurt again, and I know that it sounds ridiculous, it’s something that terrifies me. In fact, when I came to live with my grandparents I refused to talk to anyone, because I was terrified to trust anyone. I’m slowly working on this, and I’m getting better slowly.

Thank you all for reading this, I know that I rambled a bit in places.

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Categories: Uncategorized

I’ll turn this holiday around right now!

Tuesday, October 30th, 2007 Leave a comment

A news article from The Philadelphia Inquirer

From: The principal of Paris Hilton Country Day School

To: Our esteemed parents

Re: Canceling Halloween forever. And ever.

With the pungent memory (and extensive smoke damage) of last year’s Halloween uppermost in our minds, it is our considered opinion (and our legal counsel’s expressed wish) that we forgo the holiday’s celebration this and all subsequent years.

First off, we want to apologize to our pagan parents for the third grade’s impromptu – and illegal – re-creation of the Salem witch trials.

That little Tiffany Pug pinched a nerve in her neck while being held in stocks and pummeled with tomatoes and Spanish textbooks was regrettable.

The curse she placed on the school, although imaginative, appears to be winding down. The last of the frogs and locusts should be out of the gym soon. Next time, the Pug family might consider asimple lawsuit.

And though we believe in fun, setting the glee club on fire for – as our young arsonists chanted – “Beelzebub’s grand design” might have gone a little far. Let us stipulate that devil worship is no longer a recognized elective at Paris Hilton, having been discontinued after the soccer team disappeared.

On another matter, whoever performed the Halloween-night experimental surgery on our school mascot, Donny the Billy Goat, truly has a detention coming. Donny is now in a livestock-protection program at an undisclosed petting zoo.

Regarding costumes, perhaps it’s time to end the tradition. When little Timmy Topanga showed up to class dressed as a food-borne illness, we all pretty much decided we’d had it.

Certainly, we were pleased that our young women enjoyed dressing up. But having half our female upperclassmen look like a Girls Gone Wild video was beyond the pale.

Even the female faculty came to school on Halloween looking like they worked at Hooters. What was wrong with a nice Mulan or Snow White costume?

By the way, good news. We’re close to a credible explanation for why the cafeteria walls have been bleeding since last October. The exorcist we hired has proven quite capable.

No luck in finding the source of the otherworldly moans emanating from the walk-in freezer, however. And no, we don’t believe chicken nuggets normally behave that way. Again, we’re looking into it.

Also, we should say that, while we applauded the school radio station when it gave a nod to Halloween history and restaged Orson Welles’ The War of the Worlds, things went too far when Mr. Brum’s science class became so agitated by the broadcast that it swarmed and stomped him.

Please tell your children that Mr. Brum is not a Martian. That thing on his face is a gang tattoo.

This might be a good time to address a persistent and unfortunate rumor. It is absolutely untrue that the school is built on an Indian burial ground. Paris Hilton is, as we’ve patiently repeated, constructed on an EPA superfund site.

The sulfurous odor emanating from the basement is not, as our crybaby janitor claims, “the collected stench of 1,000 restless souls,” but only the endless burbling of unstable chemicals that leached into the soil after the Army abandoned this location when a colonel in a weapons lab got vaporized.

We hope that puts your minds at ease. Happy Halloween everybody!

http://www.philly.com/inquirer/magazine/20071030_Ill_turn_this_holiday_around_right_now_.html

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Update

Thursday, October 18th, 2007 2 comments

Back in June, I said that I was Asatru. Well, since then, many things have changed for me. Due a great personal loss several days after my last post, I’ve been thinking a lot. Then, finally a month or so ago, it hit me, I was on the wrong path for. So, now, I’m just labeling myself as a Pagan seeker. I’m fascinated by the Greek pantheon, however, I am slow to call myself a Hellenic Polytheist, because I’m not willing to make that plunge yet.

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About Me

Saturday, June 9th, 2007 Leave a comment

    Well since this is my post here I think that I should tell you all a little about myself. Well, I’m 19 years old and I’m male. And I’m Pagan, well, Asatru to specific. I started on the path for only 14 days and I would love to find any new links that would help me learn about this wonderful faith.

    While I am new to the Asatru faith, I am not new to Paganism. Before I got into Asatru, I was what you could call an eclectic Wiccan, however, due to some disagreements with certain members of the Gardnerian tradition, I decided that Wicca wasn’t right for me at all!

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