@aidenmally

Toddler Life

   After a few weeks, two women known as "case workers" showed up. They only took me and my older brother. The reason being that me and my older brother have the same dad. My two younger brothers had the same dad, a different dad than us. The same dad we were living with. Biological he had custody. Me and my older brothers' father was in jail at the time, unable to assume custody. And with my mother now out of the picture. Me and my older brother had no biological family members in a position assume custody of us. And as a result, we were sent into adoption. My two younger brothers had a father and grandparents. How lucky. We left Collegeville almost immediately. We got into a car and left. My older brother left in a separate car to a separate destination. It was a long car ride. It was then that my brain came to speed with reality. I... was... alone... I had just lost everything I had known and am now being taken to a completely new place with a completely new family. I was to have a completely new life. I lost it. Tears fell fast. Screams came quicker. However reality came the quickest. I cried until zero tears were left. I then began to bleed out my nose. It was stuffed with tissue. The first time ever by the way. I stopped eventually. Accepting my fate. Looking past the past in the direction of the present but towards the future with a plan. My only goal was to make my new life better than the old. Still four years old. A four year old thinking about the future. A four year old accepting happenings as fate, as destiny. I learned to accept the worst possible outcome that day. To tell myself "It's ok, this will only happen once. And once it's over, it's over for good." A four year old. It's like my brain was born to be ready for this. To be ready to lose everything and start from nothing. But me personally, I think I was born with the same intelligence as everybody else. Everything that happened just happened to force my brain to adapt. Like a weight my brain was lifting. And as it worked and worked and worked, it got to a point where my brain could lift any weight. To bear any burden. To accept any fate. Instead of breaking, my brain worked very hard through everything and never gave up. And now my brain has gained the most valuable of skills. To fight against what could destroy it. To fight depression.

   That moment I stopped crying I became a new man. I walked to the door. The door that struck an electric current in my brain to keep repeating the same pattern of electric flow endlessly. The door that I always come back to. The door with the white curtains and the 3 American flags. The only one on the block to have such. I rang the doorbell. It was opened and I was welcome by the nicest of human beings, the cutest of pets, and the warmest of atmospheres. I asked a question that stuck with them forever. One that I sincerely meant. One that proved my brain capabilities as a four year old was beyond that of an average four year old. I asked "Do you have bed bugs?" I wanted to know... so I can mentally prepare for sleep that night. And nights to follow. The answer was no. I was uplifted in spirits. They showed me to my new mother and father. They said I can call them whatever I wanted. I decided to call my mother "Mom-Mom" and my father "Pop-Pop". Because at the time all I wanted was them. All I wanted was my grandparents that filled me with endless joy that helped me sleep at night. I was hoping that they could fill that void. I was doubting that thought. But dare I say they did more than that. They went beyond any mother and father I could've ever dreamed of. They did more than fill a void, they filled my life. Yet my brain took a long time to realize what had happened that day.

  After those days my life was ups and downs all around. I was filled with a suppressed rage. It was only suppressed because every Saturday my mother would come to visit. Take me out places. I had a PlayStation 2 during that time. My mother bought me games every Saturday. Random ones. All for PS2 that I just played and played and I was never bored. But my mom had her own problems that I was unaware of at the time. Every Saturday became every other Saturday. And every other Saturday became missed calls, no visits, apologies and then nothing at all. Not a single word. The person that visited me was the only thing suppressing my anger. I still wanted my family back. But it still kept silence and didn't talk about it often. I've always hated long conversations and sentimental situations. They begin with a feeling that I feel I need to get away from. That my body is rejecting. It's the only pain that's unbearable. My anger was no longer suppressed and I was evil. I punched holes in the walls. Had tantrums. Cried. Screamed. Fought at school with other kids. Releasing my endless rage out, little by little on other kids at school, on walls, and whatever I could do to tire myself out.  I became a bad child. For a few years of my child life I was this person. Then I began to change.