The first year of college, I had to live with some relatives who treated me much the same as my mother did. The thing when you’re adopted is that, people don’t always have to tell you  but they always make sure that you feel that you’re really not part of them. I always tell myself that I should not let other people affect me. They should not stop me from doing what I’m supposed to do with my life and that being adopted is something not to be ashamed of.

And so, I lived a new life in college. I gained more friends and became more honest with myself. I knew I still had a lot to learn and I still am not finished with my battles but I am never going to give up.

I knew at that time that there was no one to defend me anymore. I was vulnerable to my mother’s anger and when she shouted at me and became violent, I would shout back in return and reason out. We were always arguing and fighting so I turned my attention to my studies and looked for affection from my friends at school till I was in my teens. I learned to take care of myself. I had to be tough. I got very good grades in school and became very active in extra-curricular activities. I won contests, quiz bees and competitions in other schools. I became very popular.  The attention I lacked at home was given to me  by other people who admired me  and I worked harder to be the best because that was the only way other people would love me. I realized later on, that it was superficial. It was the kind of love and admiration that faded over time. Little did I realize back then that my mother was just as confused as I was and also trying to be tough in her own way.

One day, as I was walking home from school, I noticed that there were a lot of people in our driveway. It looked like there was a commotion going on. When I went inside, I found my mom crying beside my dad who was sitting on our living room sofa. His eyes were closed and his feet were propped up. I slowly came near them and a relative placed a crucifix on his chest. His eyes were closed and a tear was on one of his eyes. I realized there was something really wrong and  I tried to wake him up and an uncle gently took me away outside and told me that my father had an aneurysm.

I felt so lonely beyond words and feelings. I felt that even if  I cried a bucket of tears, it wasn’t enough. It was as if a part of me had died. The only person I leaned on to had passed on. I knew it was  going to be a different life without him, and so it became. I am no longer a baby, his baby. That very day, I turned into an adult because I knew the one person who loved me was gone.