This is going to be quite a read. I hope you all take the time to see what I have to say.
I'm 32 years of age and I'm very thankful for what the Lord has done for me. I've literally crawled out of the belly of hell or so it feels. I've lived a very difficult and unforgiving life and it all started when I was a little boy...
A little history before we get to the good stuff
I was adopted into a christian family at around 13 months of age. My biological mother was unable to care for me and my brother who is only a year and a month older than me. Our father left us to better support his addiction. We were both placed into temporary care by the government until they were able to find us a new home. We both were too young to really grasp what was going on until later. After a few weeks and a few visitations we were living in our new homes. That's right! We were split up and several counties away from each other. So let's move on....
My new home; unfamiliar territory
So now I'm in a big house with a bunch of strangers "OH... No!". I was terrified! This is actually how I really felt. Honestly, for some reason, I remember everything. It's much like keeping a photo album and looking over it years later and while looking at the pictures you have a sense of being there again and in that moment.
I remember the sleepless nights and the many hours my new mom would helplessly rock me in the rocking-chair in the early am while singing lullaby's. I wasn't sure if I was able to accept these new strangers, and I didn't know if they were good or bad. Things were very confusing for me. It took many months and required unconditional love before I started to show signs of relief and contentment. (I'm sure mum and dad felt relieved and content too lol) I know it had to of been hard on them too. These people really did love me after all!
I thought they loved me; the dreaded visitations
Things were starting to look up! I started to accept my new family and they spoiled me with their love. It couldn't be better until a very chilling afternoon when these strangers in nice black suites with ties and fancy shoes roll up in a small brown four-door. I remember my dad calling my name... initially, I was excited to hear his voice and I ran towards the loving and cheerful tone of his voice. Everything seemed to be alright or was it...? I remember him sweeping me up into his arms and remember my mom giving me a kiss but she wasn't always around when this would happen. The next thing I'd remember was dad carrying me through the garage and out to the carport where these two gentlemen were standing and waiting by that ugly brown car. A few minutes would pass and before long, I found myself in the back seat of this new hell- on-wheels. Many times did this happen and I remember looking over the seat and out the back window, seeing my poor mom and dad waving at me.
I didn't know what to think... I remember crying and feeling all alone, scared and empty on the inside. It seemed as if hours went by but soon the car stopped and I was taken into some building where I ended up in a large room with orange borders, gray carpet, a wooden toy-truck on the floor and some other little person. Sometimes, two women could be seen peaking through the glass... one having black hair and the other one, with blonde hair. I didn't really remember all the activities or remember any direct interaction but eventually... I'd be taken back home. (Like I said, this happened quite a few times) Moving on...
Back at home; pfffft!
Yeah, this happened too often... I was not a happy camper! Again I find myself fighting and struggling to accept my so-called family! I was very enraged and insecure. I was no longer capable of loving these people. Even so young, you'd be surprised to know a toddler is capable to hate someone as much as I did. I pushed their arms back, I screamed at the top of my lungs and probably worse... Time to move on...
The aftermath; hell awaits...
We've graduated from a crib to my own bed... This was quite a change for me. Now I'm surrounded by darkness with very little light which can be seen peaking between the cracks of my closet door. A big bed that swallows me whole and some "thing" or scary person under the bed... I was so frightened that I'd bury my head under my pillow with the sheets pulled over my head.
Just so you all know... Something bad is about to happen!
My experience with the devil; a very dark trial
I guess I either went crazy or something really did happen to me. What do you think?
Many nights I'd fall asleep with tears running off my face and onto the sheets. (Mom and Dad wouldn't always come to my rescue) I remember having horrific dreams "night terrors" that often woke me up. I remember screaming bloody murder and lying in my own urine. Some nights I'd hear something scratching on my walls and at times, I'd notice the closet door would open an inch or two more because the light would brighten the room more than usual. Occasionally, my mom would come get me, change my butt and take me in the living room to try and rock me back to sleep. (Dad says she'd often be up with me until 3 or 4 am) I just couldn't get the peace I needed. I was heart-broken and afraid... Moving on...
To be continued... look for part 2
