My "Life" Story Pt 5

The Karate Kid:

I was desperate. I didn't know what else to do. I knew I deserved better, but I wasn't sure how to get it. 

I sat in that bathroom for what felt like hours, before having the swat team bust down the door, red lasers from the ends of their drawn guns pointed on my chest. I was forcefully picked up and placed on the counter top as they lifted my shirt and pants to check for any more signs of injury. Before I could utter a word, handcuffs were slapped on my wrists and I was placed once again in the back of a police car, only this time, instead of the station, I was headed for Children's Hospital to be evaluated. 

I don't know exactly how long I was there in the Psych Ward, but I knew it was far better than anywhere else I'd been thus far in life. I was isolated, and my only friend now, was a white rubber racquet ball I ricocheted off the wall for entertainment. I had the wonderful view of the backside of a building to look at, and a nice security guard to watch me 24/7 outside my door, making sure I wasn't going to harm myself anymore. I very seldom came out of my room. I didn't want to join the others. I didn't want to "discuss my feelings" and I certainly didn't want to finger paint, and socialize. I eventually was released on "good behavior" and for making "signs of progress", no longer deemed a threat, and sent back home. 

Shortly thereafter, my mom's rights were terminated due to a theft charge as well as, for stealing prescription drugs from the hospital in the name of "doing what was best for her kids", and back into the Foster Care I went. They tried to keep my brother and I together, however he not only was giving our mom our location which was against the court order, but also continued to blame and beat me for our crappy life. Somehow, it was all my fault, and that's why we were where we were.

Luckily for him, he was able to be adopted by my step-dad, who had moved to Florida after the divorce, but I wasn't allowed. Since there wasn't a woman in the home of two males, and based on my past, I had to stay in the system. Understandably so. 

I was placed in what's called a "Respite home" which are homes similar to that of foster homes, but you're only there for as long as the family has agreed, before being moved to another more permanent housing situation. I went through 3 or 4 of those, and stayed at each one for 1-3weeks at a time.

This is where I was able to meet my (new) Foster mom, Linda. 

Linda was the "tough love" type of foster mom, and at first, I hated that. I shared a home with several other foster kids.  I had a sense of peace in a weird way, knowing that I wasn't alone and the only kid in the world dealing with an awful upbringing. When you're as young as I was, and going through all of this, you kind of forget, and start to feel like somehow you're the only one in the world who's messed up. You start to believe the lie that everyone else around you has it all figured out and you've somehow become a lost cause. 

I lived with Linda for 2 years, and once again, I was forced to start over from scratch. New city, new neighborhood, new school, new rules, new faces, and new everything. In a way, it was cool because I could be anyone I wanted to be. I didn't have to be "me". On the flip side, I had such an aching desire to be heard, wanted, and truly loved by someone, and that, was a scary hard truth to accept. 

Like most kids who go through something so traumatic, instead of seeking help, guidance and pressing in for help, we push away, and we push hard. We want someone to fight for us. Someone to show us we are worth something. We want someone to go the extra mile, and sometimes 20 if that's what it takes, because all we've ever known and experienced, is the opposite. We're used to people giving up, and abandoning us. It takes us a lot longer to believe it when someone says; "I love you", "I'm here for you", and I want to see you succeed in life." 

I say all that because that's exactly who Linda was in my life. She was the first person to not only not give up on me, but she also didn't let me settle or become complacent in where I was. She saw the potential I didn't know I had, and saw greatness in me, when all I could see was the failure. Linda was a person of great wisdom, and every moment with her, was one for taking notes. Now, that's not to say, I wasn't a little jerk at times. When push came to shove, she was always there to help me back up. Sometimes it was like pulling teeth, but no matter how hard I pushed, she pushed back 3 times as hard. 

Discipline was not something I was used to. Neither was respect. Think of her if you must, as Mr. Miyagi from 'The Karate Kid.' Everything I did seemed useless at the time, and exhausting. Little did I know, she was really preparing me for the championship fight of my life. Getting me to a place where I could boldly take a stand against the "Cobra Kai" of my life, and victoriously win. 

It was the first time in my entire life that things were looking up. It finally felt good to be alive. I felt safe, welcomed, and loved. I was finally off to a great start.