Chapter 1 - In the Beginning

As I stated in the beginning, I was adopted at the age of five. I have no information on my biological parents, except that my mother and father were not married, and my mother was 26 years old. My biological mother gave me up as an infant, but as I learned later in life, she didn't sign the papers to give up her parental rights until I was five. So for five years, I lived in numerous foster homes spanning from New York where I was born, to Ohio, where I was finally adopted by a good family.

As a child, I learned not to attach myself to anyone because I knew that I wouldn't stay there for long. I built walls around me, so that I couldn't get hurt emotionally. It was bad enough not to have a real family or a real home to call my own. I had to live with people who would eventually end up giving me back to the caseworker who handled my case, or I would ask to be moved because I was not comfortable with the place I was staying (I say "place" because nothing is a "home" until you have one of your own).

I honestly do not remember much of the foster parents I stayed with, except for two. One was not a good place for me, and I felt utterly neglected. This family had lots of children and I did not feel as if I mattered, so I asked the caseworker to take me somewhere else, which she did. She was a wonderful woman, and the only one at the time whom I trusted. The second home I remember was in New York, and I even remember their names...Judy and Steve. I remember living in a big white house on a corner of a busy street. I remember that Steve had a big red leather chair, and I would put his slippers on the floor in front of his chair and give him the newspaper every morning. It's amazing the things you can remember or block, depending on the memory! Judy and Steve were incredible people, but they were just merely foster parents, and were not looking to adopt a child. I didn't know this, and was heartbroken when it was time for me to leave. I was crushed because I had let my guard down and allowed myself to love these people. It was so hard for me to leave them! I vowed that I would not let that happen again, and I would put up the walls that had protected me once before.

Right before my 5th birthday, I moved from New York to Ohio, to go live with a family who were looking to adopt an older child (this is the family who eventually did adopt me, and I proudly call them my family). I didn't know at the time that they were wanting to adopt at all. I just knew that they were yet more people to live with for the time being. I went because I had to, but I was still depressed from having to leave Judy and Steve.

The first thing I remember when I walked into their house, was the dog that only had three legs and who was barking at me from the sliding glass door that went to the backyard. I just stood there, staring at this animal (she was a boxer), and I didn't say a word. Her name was Deirke and was actually the sweetest dog ever. She had lost her leg several years before in Colorado where my parents and sister had lived, and had scared a burglar away from breaking into the house. He started to go through the window, and Deirka barked and would not let him in. Apparently he had shot her before leaving, thus having to amputate her leg. This did not stop her, however. She lived a long and healthy, productive life. She chased cars, she got into a fight with a porcupine and lost (my mom spent hours taking the needles out of her skin) and she fell into a coyotes trap. You would never know that she had been wounded however. She was very kind and very playful.

Next came the 10 year old girl who would become my sister. Her name was Kendra. She was excited, yet apprehensive about having me in her life She was the only child for ten years, and had to adjust to sharing her parents and her bedroom with a five year old! It must have been both exciting and frustrating at the same time. She never showed her frustration, however. If anything, she went above and beyond in trying to make me feel comfortable and to become my sister. It took a long time in order for me to accept her in that capacity. She would want to play barbies with me or read with me, but I would have nothing to do with her. In hindsight, that was not very nice of me at all, but at the time, it was just a way to protect myself.

Then there was "The Man" (that's what I called my father at the time). He was tall and had a deep voice, and I think I was scared of men in general (something I have apparently blocked out) so I just didn't talk to him until he talked to me first. I would wait until he was looking directly at me before I spoke or answered a question. If I was talking about him, I would refer to him as "that man" and never once said his first or last name. For me, I was protecting myself once again from being too close to him or Kendra, because it was safer that way. I didn't realize that he wanted to talk to me, and Kendra wanted to play with me.

The woman, on the other hand, was the one person I actually communicated with. She was nice. She stayed at home with me while "The Man" went to work and while Kendra was in school. She was patient and loving, and seemed to understand that I was holding back emotions that were very strong for me. I would cry at night because I was either scared or my legs hurt (growing pains, I figure now) and she would wake up every night and come to my room and rub my legs down and rub my back until I felt well enough to go back to sleep again. She comforted my fears, and I learned to love her very much.

In fact, I began to break down those walls which were keeping me from enjoying this family, and I began to love them all. I actually remember the day when my mother and I were walking to the car, and I suddenly stopped, and I stared at her. She asked me what was wrong, and for some reason, I just knew that she was going to take me to the caseworker, and I would have to leave again. When I asked her where we were going, she casually told me that we were going to be seeing the caseworker just to check in with her and tell her that everything was going well. I remember thinking that this woman was not going to just give positive information, she was going to get rid of me! So I timidly stated that I didn't want to go. I told her that I wanted to stay, and I stared at her. My mother stared back, with a half smile on her face. She asked me if I knew what I was saying, and I nodded. I said, It means that I would have a family and a home. I want to stay.

That's all it took. My mother and father had already discussed that they wanted to start the process to adopt me, but since I had just now stated my own feelings, the process began to start a little more quickly. My mother called the caseworker that very moment, and I was able to stay while the process of my adoption took place. That afternoon, my mother and I walked halfway down the road to meet Kendra from school. I was riding her tricycle. Kendra saw us together, and was extremely excited. She knew this was the day that I was to go back to the caseworker. When she got closer, she had both a huge smile and a frown at the same time. She yelled out, “You stayed!“ The next few words were, “But you’re riding my tricycle!“ Sibling love and rivalry started that very minute.

My parents told me years later that the caseworker would drop by unannounced just to check up on us and to see how things were going (basically the way the system is organized now). My father recalled a specific time when I was learning to ride a bike without training wheels. He was out there all day trying to teach me how to do it, and when he let go of me, I steered my bike right into a thorn bush and fell into it. I had many scrapes and bruises, and my father was petrified that the caseworker would show up that day and he would have to explain what had happened. We laughed about this story on many occasions.

During the adoption process, we decided to change my name. My name was Alicia, but because I was starting a new life over with this new family, we decided to pick another name, so that I would feel completely theirs. So, my name is Amy Alicia...we kept my original name as my middle name, and 30 years later, I have named my daughter after my original name. Her name is Alicia.

I remember very clearly the adoption process. I remember holding the hand of the judge and going for walk when he asked me if I knew what was happening and if I understood what it all meant. I remember looking up at him with my big brown eyes and smiling at him. I remember saying, “Yes I understand. I will have a family, and I will never have to move again. I want this.” The judge just smiled down at me, and from there the process began and the paperwork was signed. I don’t know the actual process and what it took from my parents. I know now that they were looking for a child to adopt as my mother could not physically have anymore children, and that both parents had wanted to adopt an older child. At the time of staying with them, I just thought they were another foster family and that someday I would have to move on again.

Once the adoption was official, the entire family went to the park. We laughed, and played and enjoyed our time together. I remember very clearly my father asking me if I wanted to stay at the park, or if I wanted to go get ice cream. I remember saying that I wanted to do both. I don’t remember what was actually decided, but I do know that it was a wonderful day and full of celebration.


The point of this chapter, is to tell you that even as a small child, I built walls around me to protect myself from getting hurt. That process continued while growing up, and I still have trust issues from time to time. I have a great fear that a loved one will leave me...either by giving up on me, or by death. Either situation is excruciatingly painful for me to deal with.

The next few chapters will be the gradual process of my defiant behavior and testing the limits of my aggravated, yet patient family. My depression didn't come full circle until my teenage years, but it is increasingly apparent to me now that it was just a matter of time before it surfaced.

Chapter 2 - Blending with the Family and Family Rituals