A goal that I achieved, I haven’t really thought of this. I never set goals for myself, if I have I never achieve them. I always get lazy and then call quits in the middle of the goal. This is a bad habit of mine, I try my best to get over it but it is quite hard. One goal I achieve though is loving and being loved, this goal took a while to achieve.
You probably don’t know this about me but I went to therapy for 4 years. I was in a hard spot where I would hide my feelings, scared others will judge me. I then got to the point of depression and not feeling anything when I should. To be honest I was glad I felt nothing as to when I did it always hurt. I had a reason for this though events in my childhood lead me to this.
When I was a child I never had a stable home, my mom was always out. I had to mature at a young age to take care of my little sister who was no older than 2. I didn’t get to experience the freedom of a young child, full with curiosity and ready to explore the world around them. I always kept to myself, when my mother was there she would ignore me and act as if I was a mere thought. In the end of it, my baby sister and me were taken into custody by the government.
This threw me into a tizzy, all I knew was hatred for the world and everyone in it. Funny enough I didn’t have hatred for my mother, the reason for me to be taken from her was her fault. I didn’t blame her and I didn’t hate her, I blamed myself. I hated myself with the world, this was a mind of a 12-year-old. A child with so much hate and pain that didn’t know how to deal with emotions.
I was placed in a home that was similar to my own, except the mother and father were present, they were always there. The children there were nice enough, my baby sister loved it there. I wanted to go home to right my wrongs. Which there was no wrongs on my part. My visits soon began with my mother, she would feed me lies, saying I would go home that she loved me. I knew she loved me but I already knew I wasn’t going home; though I did have false hope.
I was soon put into therapy, it was required of every foster child. I had art therapy, we didn’t really progress at first. I didn’t know how to talk about myself, how to talk about my life. How to talk about the feeling of being abandoned, how to utter the words of feeling unloved, how to spell hurt, and how to write pain. I was in a loop of the saying the same sentence, “I’m fine” over and over again; I wasn’t fine.
Two to three years later, I soon decided that my mother gave up on me. I decided that I wanted to get adopted by my foster mother and father, they showed me, love. They showed me how it feels to be listened to, how it feels to be cared for, how it feels to laugh without being forced to. I was happy here; my sister was happy here. I never wanted to leave, it became my home. It was where I learned to love my self, it was where I learned how to be a child, my safe place.
I learned how to talk about my emotions freely, talking about my thoughts, my ideas, and my interests. I achieved my goal of loving and feeling loved. I learned how to forgive and how to make my own choices in life. I will embrace my childhood and remember memories with my mother that were happy ones. I now know that these people care for me, and welcome me with open arms. I am happy here.
Thank you for reading me yelling out my sad self finding story.