We all know about adoption. Orphanages and foster homes. Dead or lost parents. Some kids get adopted, some age out of the system. We know all this stuff.

But what I offer is a very different perspective. I was adopted by family and not distant family, but close family. My aunt and uncle close. Most would consider me lucky since I didn’t have to go through an orphanage or foster homes, but I argue that I’ve had a similarly yet uniquely bad experience in life. Thats why I’m here, to tell everyone about the weird experiences of being adopted by close family.

Now, I won’t sugarcoat any details. It all started in 1998, when my mother was only 15. From the details I’ve been told, she had a horrible teenage experience. She smoked, did drugs, and was otherwise reckless. This eventually led to her hooking up with my “father” and getting pregnant. Now, my mother may sound bad in this, but she is a saint compared to my father. To start with,he cheated on my mom and his other girlfriends. He also refused to take responsibility for me, claiming I wasn’t his child, yet he bragged about “knocking up” my mother.

This is where there is a gap in the story. All I know for sure is that my grandparents and my aunts helped raise me for a little while. Then my mom met my step-dad. My step-dad is an interesting piece of the puzzle known as “me”. See, I know my step-dad was a horrible influence on my mom, and vice-versa, but I still have good memories with him. He was a huge influence on my personality. I’m a geek because of him. He collected X-men, Transformers, and played Xbox all the time. But, inevitably, they broke apart. I went with my mom and my two brothers stayed with my stepdad. They eventually were put in a foster home.

Another blank. I have very few memories from this time. Only secondhand information. Apparently I had horrible lice and was talking about my moms boyfriends daughter strangling me, when I showed up at my Nana’s house. This led to her putting her foot down. My mom gave me up. This was actually a really good time in my life. She spoiled me ridiculously. It has had a strange effect on my personality. Sadly, I couldn’t catch a break. Her new husband was an as*hole. He would constantly berate me, argue with my Nana, and, in one particularly bad argument, punted my small weiner dog across the house. Even that couldn’t ruin my fun though. Only one thing ruined my fun. Death. Only a few days after my 9th birthday, my Nana died from natural causes. I didn’t understand death yet. I sat for hours in the same house as my dead Nana, terrified and confused. And when her husband finally returned home, what did he do? He yelled at me. Instead of checking on his wife, his supposed love, instead of comforting the horrified small child, he yelled. I had no idea what to do. It hurts just remembering that day. I’ve heard he remarried. Ouch.

There are no more blanks. A few days after my Nana’s death, my aunt showed up with her husband. They offered to take care of me. They already had one son and he was a little baby. So there it is. Happy ending, right?

Heh. Nope. After years of work, they finally got the paperwork done. I was theirs. My mother had visitation rights. All was well, until a few years ago. We found out that because of weird wording on the paperwork, we were going to have constant problems with the law in regards to their ownership of me. Add to that the constant stares, the strange relationship, and the existential feelings that come with my situation. The older I get, the more I question my life. Why do I exist? Did I ruin everyone elses lives? Did I help anyone?

My mom has gotten better over the years. I love her and speak with her all the time. And I should mention that not all the details I know are perfect or completely correct. Please do not antagonize my mom. She is an amazing woman now.

Good news is that I’m 17 and have a chance to go to Stanford for free! Maybe I’ll come back and give everyone that happy ending to this story. I hope.