I'm Adopted - How I Went from an Outsider to a Someone Who Mattered

When I tell people I have eighteen brothers and sisters, I always have to explain that I am adopted. Then people want to know what it was like growing up in such a large family. A lot of people think it would be fun having so many people to play with as a child. Unfortunately, it was probably fun for everyone in my family but me. This is my story of living as an outsider in my own family.

I was born in January 1983, three months premature. For the first year of my life I was subjected to being hooked up to a heart monitor and would momentarily stop breathing. It was a crucial time in my life but I made it. Nobody could have imagined what my life had in store for me, after I made it through the first year. From the time I was a young child, I had been subjected to years of abuse - physical, verbal, and sexual - all at the hands of my biological mother and her boyfriends. It was like I was living in a nightmare that would never end. Then one day, my whole life changed.

It was September 18, 1988 when my older sister and I were taken from our biological mother and placed with our adoptive family. It was a bittersweet day for me. I was being freed from the torment of my biological mother and placed in a loving home. Even after being placed into a new environment, my demons from my past still haunted me.

Having struggled to come to terms with the fact my biological mother did horrible things to me was enough to send me over the edge. I must have been living with my adoptive family for at least six months before the rages began. I would demonstrate acts of violence, such as breaking windows, kicking walls, and even attacking others around me. My adoptive parents tried counseling, which never worked, but they still kept trying. Eventually, they decided to go through with the process and adopt me, even though I exhibited such destructive behavior.

I had to wait three more years before I was officially a part of the family. I really wanted to be a part of a family. I remember standing in the courtroom with my adoptive family and the judge. The judge changed not only my last name, but allowed me to have a full name change. It was exciting at the moment, but now I wish I would have never agreed to change my first name. I was given a new identity, in an effort to forget the old baggage of my past. It seemed so surreal but I needed a place to belong and this was my chance. I never knew I had a tumultuous road ahead of me. I would remain an outsider for over fifteen years.

After the adoption was made official, things only got worse. My anger became volatile and I was spinning out of control. I would have many outbursts of anger, which I often took out on people smaller than me and the family pets. It looked as if I would never gain control of my anger. I had been through a method of therapy called "blanket therapy" at the age of ten. This therapy consisted of me being wrapped in a blanket and held. It was a time meant for me to release the anger and connect with my parents. It seemed to work for a very short time. I was beginning to become somewhat of a burden to everyone around me and I just could not fit in with my family.

Two years later, when I was twelve, my parents decided enough was enough. They searched for alternatives outside the home and decided the best thing for me was to go to a Christian boarding school in Indiana. Of course I did not want to leave, but I thought maybe this was a way for me to finally fit in somewhere. A few weeks before I turned thirteen, I was enrolled in the school. It was hard at first because the girls were all older than me, but we all had one thing in common: we all no longer fit with our families. I was able to keep my anger under control while I was there, mainly because I never allowed another person to get close to me. It seemed when I allowed someone to get close to me, I always ended up being hurt.

One of the things which helped me control my outbursts was being involved with sports. I had never played organized sports before, but at the boarding school I played volleyball, softball, and basketball. I was only in the seventh grade and was playing at the high school level. I even made the varsity team in basketball the second season I was there. Things could not have been going better for me. I was getting straight A's in school and was placed in advanced math and English. We were looking at having a shot at the state title for basketball, but my high moment was only short lived.

Half-way through the season, I went home for Christmas. I was really looking forward to getting back to the school so I could play basketball and see all of the friends I had made. The night before I was to return, the bomb was dropped on me. I was told I would not be returning to the school because my parents did not agree with some of the administrative decisions at the school. I was upset because I had worked so hard to finally fit in somewhere and now I was being forced to make another change. I was to stay at home with my family which was nice but it was often too stressful.

I remained at home until one night in the summer. My parents told me they wanted to talk to me. At this point I was being responsible, so I thought. I was fourteen and had a paper route and a job at the state park. I rarely had problems controlling my temper. Apparently, this was not enough to please anyone. During this talk, my parents proceeded to tell me that some of my siblings had come to them saying I was getting away with too much. They never did tell me exactly what it was that I did. I thought I was doing the right thing, at least ninety percent of the time. My parents told me they were going to send me to another boarding school which was only about an hour away. When they told me this, it lit a spark under me. I flew into a rage and attacked one of my sisters. It was looking as if I was about to hit rock bottom. I was put into a hospital where I was given Paxil for depression.

After leaving the hospital, I became an outsider again. I was sent to live with my grandmother, just about a mile from where my family lived. I continued to do my paper route, until one day I just lost it. To this day, I do not know what triggered me to do what I did. I took a handful of my Paxil in an attempt to commit suicide. Fortunately, the Lord had other plans for me. The pills really only made me a little drowsy but I was fine. I saw my parents the next day and I told them what I did and they sent me back to see the doctor and put me on different medication. The doctor had me sent to the state hospital because I needed to be monitored while the change was made.

After being around psychotic people for about a month, I was sent to the new boarding school. I did well at first. After some time, I began to feel like an outsider. These people never accepted me like the girls from my former boarding school. I was the only black person in the whole school, including staff and residents. I was treated differently, mainly because I was not Lutheran but a Pentecostal Christian. I was feeling like an outsider for so long and it began to wear on me. I decided one day, I was going to run away with two of the other girls. The trip did not last very long, only a couple of hours. I was returned to the school and things just got worse from there.

Following my run away stint, I seemed to be doing better. I was doing well in school and my behavior was getting a little better. For some reason, I just wanted out of there. I did all I could do to get out. I tried to run away, but then it dawned on me. If I did what I did at my parents'' home I could get out of here. After about three incidents of being arrested - twice for assault and battery and once for disorderly conduct - I was asked to leave the facility. As expected, my parents were extremely upset with me, and that is an understatement. They contacted the county and placed me with them temporarily until I could have my antidepressant adjusted. Finally, I was taken completely off of my medications because I had an adverse reaction to the medication and I really did not need them.

After I was taken off of my medication, I was placed into a group home for troubled girls in Lacrosse, WI. Most of these girls had long records so I really did not fit in here again. I only had those three incidents which were a ploy to get out of the boarding school. This served as my wake-up call. I no longer liked the person I had become and I decided to change. I attended school and got mostly A's. I landed a job at a local store working in the lawn and garden center. I was finally doing something right. I rarely had any issues with my anger, let alone get upset. The most upsetting part of all this was I only talked with my parents maybe three times while at the group home. I had, in a way, been abandoned for a second time, but I now had people on my side who wanted me to do something with my life.

After spending nine months in the group home, I was placed with a foster family for the remainder of my high school years. I finally had people who cared about me and wanted the best for me, regardless of where I had been. I was made a part of their family. We would take trips to the water park. I would attend their family celebrations for the holidays. They treated me as if I was their own child, something I had not felt in a long time. For the first time in years, I was genuinely happy. At this point, I had little or no contact with my adoptive family. They did not even want to see me graduate, which I did with honors. I brushed it off, because the people who never gave up on me were still there.

After graduating high school, I enlisted in the Army. I really did not want to go to the Army, but they paid for college. I thought I was going to hate the Army, but I really enjoyed my short time serving. In 2002, I met my husband. We dated for well over a year and we were set to deploy to Iraq in April of 2003. Prior to deploying, I found out I had a back injury and was sent to a neurosurgeon. The neurosurgeon recommended I be released from the Army. I was crushed. I could no longer be a part of a deployment for which I had trained so hard. I became an outsider once again. This time it did not matter because I got married to my husband shortly before he left. Shortly thereafter, I found out I was pregnant with my oldest daughter. I saw this as an opportunity to be blessed.

Late in my pregnancy, I had to make a choice about who my little one would call her grandma and grandpa. I picked up the phone and called my adoptive parents and talked for awhile. It was the hardest thing I had ever done because I feared rejection so much. After I had given birth to my daughter, my adoptive parents wanted to be a part of my life. After fifteen years, it took me getting married and having a baby for them to want to accept me. I was full of mixed emotions. I had spent so many years on the outside looking in and now they wanted to let me in. I am not one to hold grudges, so I let them be a part of my new family's life. We now have a great relationship and I am getting to know my other siblings again. I could never have hoped for a better ending.

Today, I have a successful marriage and two beautiful daughters. I continued my education after leaving the Army. I graduated in November of 2006 from college with a degree in criminal justice. I have succeeded where others thought I would fail. After I spent most of my life with a label I finally fit in. It took one day for me to realize I could live up to the label or I could do something about it. I chose to do something about it. I decided my circumstances were not the best, but I could change my destiny and I have.