I feel the tears pour down my face as I see nothing in the pitch darkness from under my bed. I am hiding from my father who attacked my mother with a broken beer bottle. Yes, he was on another drunken rage supported by the snort of cocaine he did just seconds ago. Minutes go by as I’m waiting for the sound of glass breaking. It never comes, instead I hear the front door. (Tears streaming my face faster now) I ball up and cry myself to sleep. The next day my father came in and said “Sorry, I have to go away for a while”, and I knew immediately, my father was going to jail, again for the same thing every time it seems.

How have you made it through the days of torture and oppression? Have you had someone to talk to? Do you cry yourself to sleep often? I was a boy who cried so often that no one could tell the difference between my normal eyes and my sad eyes. Living a life of pure nightmare, including sexual, physical, and mental abuse. Always seeing blood in the eyes of those who supposedly cared about me because they decided to be drunk or high, no matter how early in the morning. Some people aren’t capable of parenting, especially when just graduating high school.

Towards the start of my high school career, I realized that I had to change the way I live my life. Everybody tried talking to me including over thirty therapists, ten doctors, and countless friends and family. There is only one person in my life that has made feel worthy and comfortable without wanting to change me and my personality.

TAMARA came into my life shortly after 8th grade when I ended up going to my least favorite place: the beach. I went to the beach just to cool off from the horrible year known as my eighth grade year. I stayed at her mother’s house and only was there because Tamara had children sort of close to my age. With that one weekend, her children grew to adore me absolutely and two weeks after leaving they called me just to say hi. I strongly appreciated this gesture because I missed my brother and sister, since not seeing them for about a year then. They touched me on an emotional level that no one has achieved since I was like five unless they just blatantly pissed me off. I was deeply depressed from missing my siblings and having to go to a different high school than all my closest friends.

SUICIDE, apparently the worst thing you could attempt. Trust me, DO NOT TRY to kill yourself. There are so many things to live for. When I tried I thought the whole world was ready to get back at me just for breathing. But after receiving treatment I went back home and Tamara was one of the first people to talk to me about me. She had only met me a few times and for some reason her kids loved me, for a reason that I could probably never understand. Someone who only knew me because her twelve year old son liked me said a few words to me that changed my life without manipulating any aspect of me for once. She said, “Place your hand over your heart. Feel that? That’s called purpose. You’re alive for a reason. Don’t forget it.”

I realized that I needed to get my life together and came to that recollection all on my own, no therapists or psycho analyzing. She changed my life for the better just because I was a person. That feeling was wonderful, acceptance. I have been very close to Tamara since and she is basically my “mom”. Anyone can have parents, but it takes effort and care to be moms and dads. I’m glad I have someone I can rely on for anything just as a mother would to her own child. All of the people that read this understand that there is always someone having a worse day than you, I never realized that. Having someone to confide your emotions to is the best thing that ever happened to me.

Thank you, Tamara.