A Survivor
June 1, 2001 was a pivotal point in my life. I had lived a life void of hope, shelter, and love. At fifteen, I was faced with the toughest decision of my life, and I was scared. For five years, I had endured my stepmother's abuse, my father's alcoholism, and the ridicules of my stepbrothers. Something in me felt I had to walk away from a home where I was not welcome and will always be remembered as the family's scapegoat.
When looking back at my history, there was something smoldering in me that finally decided that it was time for a change before my life crippled me. It had taken me five years to face the reality I was living in and only then did this consciousness kick in and I took action. It's like a woman afraid of walking away from her abusive husband. I was conditioned to despise my existence and ran from my deepest, innermost feelings. Fear seeped into my imagination. I admit I would catch myself drifting farther and farther from the world around me. Fiction took on a new role in my life. I was daydreaming my life away. I did this to run far away from the sadness of the reality I lived in.
With my stepmother's ridicule and beatings, I packed my bag and left. A different person, then, controlled my entire being, and I think that was what saved me. When I walked away, I never once looked back at the house. I remembered that day so vividly, and I get choked up thinking about it. The fear I had was intense. My heart had been racing, and the never-ending tears had streamed down my face. Memories of having bread and butter for supper because of being poor and other unpleasant thoughts went through my mind.
A friend of mine allowed me to stay in her house for one night, and after that, I lived in a homeless shelter for runaway teens for four days. Those four days, I learned a little more about myself and gathered my thoughts about what to do next to survive another day.
My biological father picked me up and knew he had to find a place for me to live that was away from my stepmother. He decided to drop me off at his friend's house. I will never forget that day. It was June 5, 2001, and I was greeted by the open arms of a stranger. Dressed in her pink nightgown, she appeared friendly. Not once did I think that this strange lady and her husband would someday become my parents. My biological father left after that, and I never saw nor heard from him again.
My friends tell me that I am a strong and independent person for surviving and making the choices that I did, but a part of me thinks that what I was forced to do was best for both parties. I could continue living and telling people my life story while the family I walked away from could continue their lives without me.
There are some people who are skeptical of my life story, and I would say to them, "Look at me: a high school senior and a sophomore in V.C.C., an active officer of Phi Theta Kappa (the international honor society for two-year colleges). Look at me, an eighteen year old. The people I came to as a stranger three years ago I now call mom and dad. I went from just surviving every passing day to living a life I thought I would never have."
