Living life as a other

A Story by Erika

My life story, just the beginning, have much more

We all wonder how our lives will end. Some think of drowning, others by burning up alive, or even a natural disaster. I never did tho, I always knew deep down inside how my life would end. Then It happens... I remember being rushed in an ambulance the loud sound hurting my ears while my chest was in tremendous pain. My last memories of life were seeing my mother next to me. Tears running down her cheek She just kept telling me, I love you No matter how bad of a mother I was. I'm sorry I love you. Then it started to turn white just a white bright light cutting out my surroundings, I died at 22 years of age. I always felt like the scapegoat in my family. As a child I guess I felt the need to bring trouble on to me to keep the family happy. I can hear my mother yelling at me from her room Saying Make a bottle for your sister, Or even sometimes I was forced to do her chores as a mother I was 14 at the time. my problems started at a young age. You can say my inner-child was converted into an adult forcefully. I was 5 years when the first guy touched me without my parents knowing. The sunshine state was home for me, my earliest memories were in Florida, I was with my father at the time, you know those Old- fashion Spanish guys you see in the street with the sombrero and boots .. well that was my dad. My father could never pay all the bills alone so we always rented with other people, Most of them were nice, but a few of them changed me forever.. I was a very active child, always loved to go outside, ride my bike, was always swimming at the pool, and love to go to the local boys and girls club, My father came to Colorado at age of 35 and met my mom who was 18 at the time. (gross I know) My parents had two kids. Jose (older brother) and me. Jose was the perfect child of the family, also the slow one.He was always organized, always caring and very polite, but under all that happiness there was a big black hole, The reason I know is that I also have it. We were given up by our mom at age 3, from what i was told she was not in a good place in life, but she never reached out to us. My father was in Florida, he had remarried to the most amazing mother one can ask for Cindy. I consider my real mom my stepmom and Cindy my real mother. She was always there for us no matter what. I can't remember my real mom as a baby, maybe one memory which was not a pleasant one. All my childhood happiness involved Cindy. She was the mother that I always wanted. She showed more care and affection then my real mom has ever shown. Cindy was 38 when she passed away later in the years, but she was beautiful inside and out. Spanish speaking woman, she was from Venezuela and had so much love to give out to the world. She started making by taking my father out of his drinking problem, He was bad. Everyday drinking. Then we came in the picture. My first memory I have was 3 years old I had a dirty diaper since We left Colorado in a plane to Florida, my father had no idea what to do with my diaper so Cindy changed me. She was there waiting for us when we got off the plane. Cindy had a family before she became our mother. She had an older son, many brothers, and sisters, The only grandparents I ever met where Cindy's parents. I would go there house to school when my parents got off late. My grandma always crochet and my grandpa was always watching sports. I remember the boredom always there next to me. My grandparents never let me outside alone and to me, it seemed they were always just sitting being boring. But I was a young energetic kid, they were dead tired people who lived a great life. Once Cindy passed away I never saw them again, I think of them so much tho just like I do with Cindy. The only time I met Cindy's family was a trip we did when I was young. My first time on a bus. I thought it was so awesome, seeing new things going new places, But what bothered me the most was that I had to be seated the whole time. I could not lay down once.

I was stuck in the seat with my toy. We rode from Florida to Pennsylvania. Long but fun ride. I don't remember much but I do know that I met so many people. Cindy's sisters and brothers and cousins the list goes on. Once we got back from our trip I started school and switched homes between my mother and father's house. I enjoyed living with Cindy, She protected me and cared. I guess that motherly love, but when I was with my father things were so much different. His mind frame was if you're a boy you have to be strong and tough. I would bring a paper home every day saying how I did in school, but one day I knew I did bad so I threw the paper away and told my father that the teacher did not give me one. So for punishment, he made me get naked to get on my knees and face a wall while he hit me. I also remember the day I dropped bubbles liquid on the carpet and he made me lick it. I hold resentment towards him because that's not how you punish a child. Too top that he would rent to other people so when he was gone he would ask them to watch me. That's when the 17-year-old boy did what he did. I was in the middle of the living room watching my favorite shows when the boy comes and sits next to me. He asked me if I wanted to play the game console in his room. I stupidly accepted and went to his room. I was playing and seeing him rub his pants, then he took his shirt off. He came next to me and hugged me while rubbing his pants. We were sitting side by side when he started to put my head down, I just went with it not knowing what to do, Then he undressed us both, I will never forget the pain of him trying to shove his package in me. I was too small and you tried and pushed. the pain was horrible. I heard a car door close so he dressed me up and put me in the living room again. That's when my father walked since that day I was never the same again, my life was changed. It continues to happen because one left and another one would come. That's why I loved being at Cindy, no pain no abuse. I was not the one in pain anymore, she was. I saw her in pain and taking visits to the hospital. I would lay down next to her in the hospital hoping she could come home soon, that did not happen. It was a normal afternoon, I got out of school and my father picked me up, I saw him sad I asked what's wrong? Then he tells me Cindy passed away. I felt like I broke in half. I cried and cried so much to where I could not even breath, but the tears continue to come.I started having nightmares at night, I felt alone, and no one to protect me. I remember her funeral, I was a uncontrollable cry, I was on the floor, I was just so devastated. When I went to see her corpse I remember rubbing her face. All I felt was coldness She looked so beautiful, sleeping there, but this was asleep she was not gonna get up from. Doctors said she died of a heart attack. Cindy's death turned the family completely upside down. My father fell into a depression and forgot how to be a parent. I started going to the streets and getting in trouble. My father asked his mother to come help him take care of me, when I saw her I felt nothing, no love no care just an old woman. poor woman I sure was a handful I started to feel that I can do what I want, started talking back to my father and leaving for long periods of times. She ended up leaving because she wasn't feeling well. one month later she passed away. My father was at his weakest and I took advantage. One morning we were fighting and on my way to school when I told him It's good that your mother died. By saying that I got a punch straight in the face. I went to school with a bloody nose and they called children services. People started to visit me at school and at home, they would ask me questions. They talked to the other renters asking how my relationship was with my father, they blamed me for everything. I was the one acting up

and causing problems, but they were touching me on the down low. I was 12 years old when I was put in my first Foster home. It was an ordinary house with 4 other boys living there. I was uncomfortable because everyone was black in the house. I was the second youngest in the house. I shared room with the youngest one. The owner was a big fat black guy, we nearly saw him. He never had time to visit the kids he was taking care of. We did what we wanted there, most of times we never listen to the rules. Jeremy was 17, almost getting ready to age out. Fit black guy, on the football team, he would take us in the backyard and make us practice football. I hated it, I never got into sports.But what was weird is that I felt an attraction towards Jeremy but I kept that to myself. Second oldest was Tobias, he was 16, He introduced me to weed. One night he woke me up and told me to follow him, We went to his room and crawled out the window. He asked me if I ever smoked I said no. He pulled out a cigar looking thing and lit it up.. It had a nice smell to it, he smoked and passed it to me. He explained how to smoke and make sure I hold it in. After smoking a few times he asks me, Do you hear your heartbeat? I do hear it, I also felt so good, I felt like a leaf, I felt no worries, no stress, no nothing just happiness. Since that day I started to get high everyday. I felt free , I felt alive. I stayed at the group home for almost a year, then my case worker said that I could go back home. I did not want to go back with my father, He was taking parenting classes but during our sessions, he would tell me things that hurt me and still sticks with me till today. He told me one day that I was the one killed Cindy, I was the one that put so much stress on her. but I loved her the most. Once I got back home, I started to act up, all the pain and damage my father did to me I felt it was payback time. I would hit him, tear up the whole house, throw away all his clothing throw eggs on his car. I made life impossible. That's when he started calling the police on me. I was baker acted. A baker act when the police take you to the crazy house. Your locked in a mental facility for a few days depending on your treatment. Someone told me once that if you get baker acted once it's so easy to do it again. So true. I was going every week to that place. No leaving, being told when to eat, when to sleep,all doors locked. It was prison for kids I was there for a whole week. It kinda sucked not being able to do anything. Once I got out problems started again with me and my father.He did not understand me, and I never felt comfortable talking to him. I called my caseworker saying that I was not comfortable with my dad. I moved again this time I did not get out till I was 18. This placement was way better than the group home. In this house, it was a normal family, The Farwells, and there was only one other boy there, His name was Alex, was 17, almost about to age out.I enjoyed this home very much, also the son of the sister of Mrs. Farwell lived with us Jerry was his name. He stayed to himself a lot. Everything started very well at the Farwells, I was going to school, did family activities, but I had to much anger built inside from my childhood. I always bottled everything in, all my pain all my abuses and traumas. I never spoke about Cindy. When my therapist and I would talk I would tend to shut down and not talk anymore. I think they knew I went thru abuse but I never confirmed it till later in life. I kinda felt good at this home. I connected with the family well but I was hurt and had to leave the home. When Alex left I had the room to myself for a while, but then Tyler Morgan came to the house.Tyler and I meet on many occasions in the system for being changed homes so many times. He came in strong-minded, and very family like.He fit well in the family. I remember the system messing up the Farwells license. Meaning instead of having two kids they could only have one. I was thinking I was the one staying. Well, it wasn't like that. When the Farwells told me to pack up I felt it like a slap in the face.They told me I need a more therapeutic setting. I ended up going to a bigger group home this time.Boys and girls 4 kids per room, Hibiscus Children's Center. This is where I learned many other types of drugs that made me forget about all my worries. There was a group of us that misbehaved. I started smoking spice, then I started to bring in Triple c's, and cough syrup, to get the whole campus high. We would go out at and mess around all night. That's when I lost my virginity to a girl. I know in all the schools I've been to I never finished a year. I was at Hibiscus for a while until my case worker found me the Pascuellas. They were an older couple with one adopted son and a young foster child. Within two weeks I was packing up to move again. From the beginning, I was uncomfortable because of the young boy. I thought to myself he is too young to be seeing all the negative things I was doing. I started getting out of control and the Pascuellas saw that. My caseworker could not find any homes local So I took a 3 hour ride to Sarasota,Fl. I was living east side of Florida now I was moving to the west coast. I went with the Trueman family. Here I had a mother and a father,but I had to earn that privileges. There were two of us. Ryan was 17, almost about to age out. 4 dogs 2 cats and 1 rabbit. I was in heaven… I was always an animal person and dogs are my favorite. I got along with all the dogs except one, she was an Alaskan Eskimo, Princess was her name, but I still loved her. As my first few days went on I started school, made a few friends, my last year of middle school. I only remember this because it’s the only school I did graduate from. Once I got more comfortable with the family, and my days became weeks which turned into months, and only place that I can say it turned into years. I proved myself to the true man’s they later presented me to Grandma, Great Grandma, and a few uncles, no doubt they all accepted me as a family member. I would sit with great grandma and watch ghost whisper for hours. Mr. stayed home most of the times, he had epilepsy, so he had many restrictions, but one thing for sure if he knew how to cook, Here I realized how close-minded I was with trying new stuff, If it looked weird would not eat it, if it smelled funny would not eat it, Something I never have seen or heard of I would not eat it…. I was so picky and never realized it till I met the Truman. He cooked something different every day. My first month I butted heads a lot, I did not like the food, but that’s all I could eat or go to bed hungry. Once I started trying, I wanted to try more. With the Trueman's I means I also came out with my sexual orientation. I always like guys since my abuse, no matter how much I fighter it that attraction came naturally. I spent 2 Christmas, 2 birthdays, I would see my therapist once a week. I became attached to mistreat so much that I open myself up about my sexual abuse, I started therapy 2 times a week for my abuse. Slowly over time I started to heal that wound. My father would come visit me on weekends for family therapy. I remember being happy, I had friends, a family, and no worries at all. One thing I assure my readers, is that the Foster Care system is garbage, worst system ever. Once again, the system messed up with the Truman’s silence. They could not have any kids until they got that issue fixed so once again I was removed from another home, but a home that I came to care and love. I remember coming home and my therapist was there with Mr. Trueman, and Mrs. Truman. They had a weird face, one that I could not read or understand. Mrs. Truman told me to sit next to her, I was worried maybe I did something wrong, but then my therapist started to speak. He explained to me what happen and asked me to start packing up my suitcase. I had to leave the Truman’s family that same night. Another stab to my heart. The things I loved and care for the most once again taken away from me. When I left the Truman, I moved back to the east coast, Another group home, The Haven, it was big, 3-4 houses with 6-7 rooms. 2 boys in each room. I saw Tyler Morgan was also here… I shared rooms at first, first few days stayed to myself and just stayed to myself. 12 boys living in the house I was put in. Started school, also stayed to myself. Then I got comfortable there, I made the wrong friends. There was a group of us you can say, Tyler and I was included. We would walk off campus when we wanted, I started to get back on drugs, at this point I did not care what I took. Started with pills again. I remember leaving school walking to the closest Walgreens or Walmart with a few other guys from school. Once in the store we would split up and go shoplifting, the first thing I always got was the pills or cough syrup. I would get all that was available to later give out at the group home. I was smart at first about school. I would be back on campus when the bus came so that it seemed that I did go to school, I started to get suicidal and went thru baker acts again. I remember that at this time of my life I thought about my biological mother a lot, I always had her in the back of my head, I put on Facebook one that I was going to kill myself and later that night cops came and took me, I was sleeping, and they came to disturb my beauty sleep. I was at the haven for a few months, here me and Tyler got more along also, I was different from the first time me and Tyler met at the Farwell’s. Now I was more of a trouble maker. I did my drug use with other kids, so that was okay, I was not alone in that. I would bring my backpack full of pills, but I was smart. I took them out of my backpack and hid them before I got on campus. Right when I got there I got searched, but I already had it hid. I think I only went to school one week, the rest of the time I was skipping and walking off campus. Every Friday we would all go out as a group. Bowling, movies, etc.… I don’t remember if it was here or the next place I started to Self-mutilate. It felt so good, the burning of each scratch going across my arms. As my days went on, my days here were getting shorter, I ended up leaving again, I went to another group home. The Libra House. Here is where emotionally I was the worst. I felt everything falling on me, and I was alone. I felt I had no one. When I got there, I had to share rooms, 6 bedrooms, 2 beds per room. All the rooms where taken. I started of well, Liked the staff, and a few of the kids. The pain that I had in me and dragged with me was still there, no way to let it out. I started shoplifting from Walmart again, and gas stations. Stealing alcohol, and skipping school. I would go till lunch then bounce. I would go get high and erase my pain for a short time of time. I felt inside I wanted to stop, but as an addict it was hard. That’s the only thing that made me happy. Many baker acts happen at libra house. Every week I was fighting with cops and yelling all my anger to the sky crying why god, why me. Many nights I would leave campus, cut up my arms and go to a church, releasing all my anger and yelling to god, is this what you wanted, are you happy, emotionally I was done, I could not handle it anymore. The first time I ever went intoxicated to school. Drunk a few four lokos and went back to school like nothing. They saw my arms and baker acted me again. I remember one baker act, I took to many pills, and was in the hospital, everything was just loopy, I remember hearing a song that calmed me down, Whitney Houston. I could not sign paperwork at the hospital because of how drugged up I was. When they did my intake I was acting up, I remember thinking, I’m not here, and I would run to the door but got restraint. I tried this a few times and ended up getting in head lock and throw to the floor. I also went to the bathroom and started to act up sexually, I was just out of control. I ended up getting put in a room with nothing in it, I don’t remember falling asleep, but I was locked in. My father was also there. I still couldn’t walk or eat so he had to help me. I never wanted my father to see me like this. To the point where I could not do anything for myself. I got out but still felt the need to act the way I wanted. Leave campus and school, not caring what would happen. But that changed, on my 16 birthday I left Libra house and got locked up into Sandy Pines. Sandy Pines was a residential treatment center. When I found out I was going I planned to run away, but it was too late, my caseworker was already here to pick me up. On my way to Sandy Pines I thought of every way to run away, but Sandy Pines was in the middle of a State park. In the middle of nowhere. Only trees all around. My caseworker took all my stuff in for me while I looked around trying to plan. What I did not know was when I walked thru those doors no going out. All doors were locked with magnets, and staff only had keys. I did my intake, met my therapist, and went over the rules. First thing they took was my phone and all electronics, no way of sneaking anything in because they search you before you go in. There were 4 units. I started on D unit. D unit was a mixture of boys and girls, not too bad, all calmed no problems. I liked it. When I got to the unit they explained everything that was going to happen. No leaving the unit for 24 hours. Only clothing in rooms all other stuff had to stay behind the nurse desk. I could not bring anything in without it going thru my therapist. I hated it I was locked up. Everything started well, I met a few people here that I knew from my baker acts. At least I was not alone completely. I had my own room, just for a short amount of time. We woke up at 8 to do chores and get ready for breakfast. We had to stand in a line to go to breakfast, always had to wait for staff to open every door. All doors were locked. Every Friday we saw the psychiatrist. I never liked him from the beginning, He acted like he did not care, it was just a job, he was not there for the kids. I started getting in trouble, and as punishment we did hours. Depending on how much hours they give you, you take a chair down the hall and sit there alone and write. I did many of hours. I was a little antisocial so hours I liked. When the Doctor came in he would go to all the girls pat them on the shoulder and talk to them. As for the guys he never talked to us unless it was our 1-1 meeting. I ended up calling her a pedophile. That did not go well at all. I started again from zero. There reward system where levels 1-4. 1 meaning earliest bedtime, no privileges, and leave 4 included leaving campuses on weekends and stay up late. When I got in the fight with the doctor he took everything from me and sent me to A unit. A unit was so much different. It was all boy’s unit. Fights and yelling, and restraints consistent. At first, I was scared to go to A unit. I finished my hours and started the program with them. It was horrible. I like D unit more, but now A unit. I always ended up getting hours, but was never physical, or got into any fights. Only one time I almost got in a fight. I always stayed down the hallway thinking, and talking to Cindy, I did it too much to where I could no longer get hours. I mandatory had to participate in activities. I ended up in a group of 5. Me Aaron, Jerome, we mostly hang out with each other most, then later came Anthony. We had many groups a day, and little free time. I started reading a lot since there was nothing else to do. I got many of books and read and read. The school was also on campus, we never left campus at all. 24/7 In the facility. We got one phone call every night.