When I was two years old, my mother kidnapped me from my father. She took me and ran off with some guy. My parents were both young when they had me; my mother was 19 and my father was 16. We all make mistakes when we are young, though, this one seems rather high up there. My childhood was never great - the man she ran off with tended to take his anger out on myself and my siblings quite a lot. I can remember vividly for my sixth birthday when my step-dad decided that my birthday cake was his and when I asked why he was eating and no one else could, his answer came at the cost of a lashing from his belt. My mother never once stood up for us not that I ever expected her to as I grew older.
My last name was always different from hers and my step-dad's even if they would lie each time it was questioned. My school records (report card) would always show my last name different and when I asked them about they'd always say that the school has it wrong. Even my medical records would say it (I was a nosy, curious child whenever I suspected something wasn't right). It wasn't until my fifteen birthday after much pestering that my mother finally told me the truth. Not even that, she told the truth to my middle brother who also had a different father. It was heart breaking to hear that after years of asking the question of why my last name was different and always being lied to, to hearing that it was true. That the man who gave me the worst childhood wasn't my real father. You can only imagine the amount of questions that stemmed the moment I found out the truth. What did my father look like? Where is my father? Did my father love me? Will he ever come see me? What really happened? All of which never were answered, ever, save for she did take the opportunity to say that my father wanted nothing to do with me and refused to pay child support.
I spent the next three years getting what information I could from my mother so I could search for my father. The only problem was, she only gave me a name and a state. And he had a name that was so common that it was hard to track anyone down. At this time, Facebook wasn't too heavily used, if not in existence at all. I even tried my hand at myspace. Anything I could do to find him and I came up empty handed and eventually gave up. I still had hope that one day I'd find him but I gave up on the searching of it. I ended up meeting someone, online imagine that, and we really hit it off and he started to come see me and I came to the city he lived in (which was four hours away) to see him. It blossomed and before I knew it, I was moving to his city to start a life with him (I life I'm still living, seven years strong!). When I told him of my story, he inspired me to search again, and so I did. Thank god for Facebook because when I felt as if I was at a dead end again, I found him or rather I should say, he found me! For the first two weeks it was a bittersweet reunion even if I didn't remember him. However...
That didn't last long before he was throwing that he had money and could do anything for me if I only asked of it. He threw around that he was dying from cancer too and that it was very important I come see him. Which, of course, like any human being I agreed. Who wouldn't? Except for the fact that as the day grew closer to the time I would leave to meet him, he started calling less and was very sketchy on where he exactly lived and if he'd be home or not. Then when I would ask how his treatments were going he'd get very sketchy on them and quickly change the subject. Then during one phone call he told me he didn't have any money, at the start of the call, to he was taking someone on a $3000 shopping spree and that he could do that for me if I wanted. I was let down. I felt broken. My mother lies to me for years, and now my father can't even do the same. Ever since then, I haven't been able to trust either of them and neither of them come to see me or acknowledge my existence unless they need something from me. I have lots of siblings too. I'm the eldest of 13 kids. Shocking, I know.
It's sad how the people who are supposed to be your role models in life ended up being the ones you mess you up for life. I don't trust people easily, and when I do give out that trust it's often more times than not betrayed. So I've turned it off, and people say I'm a cold blooded person because of it but perhaps if the knew the reasons behind it they wouldn't be so quick to judge. Even then, when I do open up to people and let them in and tell them the reasons, or my story, they still end up betraying me for favor of climbing higher with someone else. Some people tend to think that they don't have much influence over someone or their life, but when someone comes from a past where all they've even known is what you are doing to them, it's significant more than you'll ever know.
Anyways, this is my story and it turned out a lot longer than I expected it too. Would you believe this is the shortened version? Haha. Well, I believe that's all for now!
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