Alex GaynerIt all began with my father, an abusive man at the time I was young. At least tough times make you stronger. My childhood from as long as I can remember through the 5th grade my parents have been constantly fighting each other. My mother was a very emotionally weak person at the time, and has been going through a battle of depression. I was used to hearing screaming and shouting 3 times a month.

6th grade my parents got in a divorce. At first I didn’t know if this was gonna be a bad thing or a good thing, but I didn’t like the change. When you think of the word, “Divorce,” the first thing that comes to mind is, separation, hate, revenge. I worried if my life would remained scarred forever. If I was gonna remain the one kid who never got to have the loving family that every kid has.

When I was young, I always wondered what the meaning of a loving family really was. Whether if it was just some dream that everyone wants, or if it’s just a gamble. Statistics say 50% of all couples get divorced. If that’s true, how come all my friends at school at the time never ended up in the same situation. Was it that I was just unlucky, and they’re just the fortunate ones?

Back in my day, I guess you could say I was on a pursuit for happiness. Meaning, I wanted to know what happiness really was. I’d feel happy when I watched a funny video on YouTube, or play a videogame, or watch a funny movie, but when it was over, so was the happiness. I could never be happy without any of the electronics, games, or entertainment I had. And whenever I was grounded, I felt very greedy, and unpleased, and I couldn’t find out why either.

I never happened to enjoy the company of my family. I figured at the time that finding happiness in your family was all a lie, and that the only way I could be happy was to isolate myself from the fundamentalist people I visited every Sunday. How could they still believe in a God if life for them was so hard with the divorce and their tormented son, who would do nothing but listen to explicit heavy metal and watch Infomercials on TV whenever he was grounded from video games.

8th grade, I attacked my father for making me run on a treadmill for having a fight with a student. The police got involved, and I was sent to a mental institution. And that’s when I began to see my life start to fall apart. I barely passed the 8th grade by getting suspended twice, and a below average grade in most classes. To this day, I have no idea why I should be getting a high school education.

I stabbed my father Freshman year in high school, and was send to a Juvenile Detention Center. Those were the first four scariest days of my life. I have no idea how I survived as the only white boy inside my pod. When people see you in an orange jumpsuit in a pod full of blacks, the first thing they want to do is stay away from you. They label you, tell others that you’re dangerous, and you can’t ever be trusted in a free society.

I don’t know how I was released four days in JDC. I guess that these days most kids are let off the hook, with either probation, or mental institutions. I could never trust anyone at my private school. Isolation was my only key to social survival. I could never survive a Christian private school with everyone thinking I was some psychopath off the streets of Minneapolis.

Most of my high school life I was bouncing in between my Dad’s house, to my Mom’s house, to more mental hospitals. I kept changing my opinion on which parent was the good guy or the bad guy. I still don’t know why they love me so much to this day. I know parents are supposed to love you forever, but I don’t  know how you can love someone who betrays you for life.

In 10th grade, I almost lost the meaning for my life. It seemed the few friends at my school seemed to keep me from going completely insane. I used pornograpy to pass my time with my laptop. When I got caught, I got grounded, and ran from home. I got found wandering the streets of Minneapolis, with nothing with a cell phone, a ski mask, and an empty backpack. I was sent home, and I snuck my laptop to school. I touched my privates in a study hall. When got back home, I realized I was caught. I felt a mixture humiliation and embarrassment.

At that point in my life, I questioned what was the meaning of life. What was the reason I was on this planet at this time of year. As I pondered to myself, I couldn’t find an answer. So I walked to a highway bridge, and jumped off a 50 feet fall. I still have no explanation why I got so lucky to still be able to stand on both of my legs. No one deserves the second chance I’ve been given. I’ve never met one real person who has had it worse out there for me. I can’t imagine the pain I once felt at the time that I couldn’t walk, or jump, or take a joke, or have rights that others would have.

You’ve probably already read about the story of how I’ve attempted suicide by jumping off of a bridge. True story in fact. Recovery however wasn’t such a simple task. I’ve broken 8 bones in my entire body. The recovery lasted for over 3 months, those were the most slowest 3 months I’ve ever had. No respect, no freedom, not even privacy. Watched while using the bathroom, watched while I sleep, watched while taking a shower. No matter where I went I was watched.

At that point I was in a weak mental state. How I’m constantly watched 24/7, like an animal in a cage. Making sure that I never commit the same violent acts I’ve committed in the past to myself and others. I hated everyone. I hated my family, I hated the nurses, I hated the doctors, everyone. I’ve lost my entire will to do anything, like a broken horse. All I could do was stare at the ceiling, read a book, but whatever I did, someone had to watch me. All the time. No TV, no video games, no electronics, no internet, nothing. Nothing but simple pain and suffering as I slowly recover.

After I’ve recovered, my parents said they would send me to a boarding school. However, I slowly realized that I wasn’t sent to a boarding school, I was sent to a treatment center. I felt like I was dumped, stranded. Like no one cared anymore and that there was no hope left. I’ve never talked to my parents over the phone, I didn’t send back letters, I didn’t give them gifts. How could I respect them after dumping me into a treatment center?

I’ve had limited contact with the outside world. I barely got opportunities to do anything. Fortunately, my patience paid off and I was given more privileges and freedom. I was sent to a foster home, where I was more trusted and respected. Of course not all my troubles have gone away. I still had to attend Chester Creek Academy, which by far is the worst place to get an education. I was sent to Day Treatment, which has more freedoms than before, and you are more respected. All I had to do was respect others back, and they respected me.

I once met a girl on Day Treatment. Her name was Ceci. At first I knew nothing about her, but then she learned that I was a writer, and she showed me a story she wrote, and told me how important it was that I liked it. As I learned more about her I began to like her more and more, that’s when I knew that we were gonna be great friends. We sat next to each other at lunch everyday, and talk about what we loved about each other, and how much we missed each other. It was actually going very well for quite a while. Our love didn’t last long unfortunately. One day she didn’t seem to show me the affection and attention she used to give me when we were madly in love. It was then my decision to break up with her. I don’t know why, but it was really much more easier than I expected. They said that breaking up is hard to do. If that is so why am I not swimming in my own tears? I don’t actually feel sorrow about the break up, it’s like I just sort of moved on. Then it actually hit me that i began to miss her. I started to cry really hard one day at school. I lost hope in me finding a relationship. There will be plenty of other fish in the sea, too bad it just won't be the same. I remember being the very foolish person I once was. Not gonna happen no more, I’m a new and better person, and I refuse to listen to those who tell me otherwise.