Orphanages

Sorry for the lack of updates, but I haven't been home in 5 months. Hopefully I'll start writing regularly again, but I guess it's pretty clear that I'm a slacker. 

You might want to read this before this post makes any sense

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   I don't have that typical story of being left at the doorstep of some church or hospital by my mother only to be found by some wonderful family who took me in, no. My mum was 17 when she had my brother and I, we weren't born in a hospital so no official papers are available, I'm not even sure of my name or the real date of my birth, I doubt she even gave me a name. My mother didn't hold me in her arms or speak loving words to me. When she killed herself she just left my brother and I in the house, if you could even call it that, she lived in. We were found two days later by curious neighbours, with broken bones and almost dead from dehydration. 

   I spent a large majority of my life in orphanages. I guess they weren't all bad, because compared to most I'm extremely blessed in terms of my development and overall health. At least half of the people I met in my childhood are probably dead or in some kind of mental facility.

    Orphanages varied throughout Europe, with Eastern Europe being the worst. Most of the people who work in orphanages aren't paid enough to survive themselves...so it's like they want to take it out on the children living there. That, or just the amount of children severely outnumbered the workers to the point where we became nothing. I remember being treated like I wasn't human...I was just some kind of object. I could be moved into different areas, but there was no point in interacting with me because I was the same as a piece of furniture.

    I've mentioned before that I didn't start talking or even making sounds until I was 3 or 4, which led to me not being adopted and trapped in the system until I was 18. It wasn't abnormal that I didn't speak, it was just that nobody bothered to talk to me or teach me. I remember growing up in silence. Most of the kids didn't speak, they didn't even bother crying because nothing would come of it. I used to pretend I was in a room full of statues, because that's all they were.

    I was initially put in a grouping called "Section Eight". Section Eight consisted of about 40-60 babies under the age of three taken care of by one person at only select parts of the day. We were left alone in cots, usually 3-5 to a crib. No one spoke to us. When the worker came in, she would quickly give small portions of food, and change those who were deemed worthy...meaning those who would survive. I don't blame her, those workers usually face 24 hour shifts. Nobody was taught to talk. Nobody was taught to walk. We wouldn't play, we weren't loved. I remember going back to Section Eight rooms when I was older...and I wasn't sure if the children were even alive. From far away you wouldn't be able to tell. Section Eight children don't do much buy lay there, wide eyed. That's because Section Eight children aren't expected to ever become anything, they are a burden to society. The dirt beneath your shoes.

     I remember when I left Section Eight I didn't know what outside was. I had no idea of the existence of a tree, or what the sun felt like. I knew the curtains and the people around me. I'm not sure why I was moved from the first orphanage to be honest. I don't know why I got out and the others were left to rot. I'm not sure how I came about being able to walk, because Section Eight children are usually left to a life of just laying there like vegetables, with no soul or no mind. It's scary, if I showed you a photo of a Section Eight child you would guess them to be about 5 or 6, when in reality they'll be 16 years old.

    I'm assuming I was smuggled out of the Section Eight room and brought somewhere else, which does happen frequently. Maybe that person knew I had potential and that I wasn't mentally disabled like most of them were. They'd probably be disappointed to see how I turned out.

    When you turn five years old in an orphanage someone from the government comes in to decide where you go next. You're given a test, which is pretty basic. They ask you what a certain colour is, where to find a tree etc. Most Section Eight children can't answer those kind of questions, in fact they won't even acknowledge your presence, I'm not sure they're even aware of their surroundings. If you fail the test you are deemed retarded. You are an embarrassment to society, and you are nothing. You are sent to...kind of an insane asylum for children. You continue to lay in your bed, you continue to receive no attention. You will never be "alive", you will never speak, you will never walk. You will never be adopted, I'm not even sure you can adopt one. The ones who were severely disabled were just left alone to die.

    I'm not sure who saved me or how I knew of anything, but I could at least make out basic words so I wasn't sent there. I was sent to a state owned orphanage, not associated with Section Eight. There was still a low worker to child ratio, but when you get older in orphanages it's kind of your...duty...to help the younger ones I guess. I remember teaching hundreds of children to talk, walk, read, write or even play. It wasn't because I was a good person...it's just what you do. Someone did it for me, or I wouldn't be writing this right now.

    I was extremely lonely as a child. Most of the children I lived with had extreme effects from things like Chernobyl, or they were like those of Section Eight children who couldn't cope. I remember some kids wouldn't do anything but just rock back and forth all day. You could pick them up and move them, but they wouldn't really notice. They would just keep rocking. Some had severe mental disabilities due to Chernobyl, or had...mutations. Missing noses, missing limbs, heads...collapsing. I would just try and get them to speak with me or play, but they couldn't. They couldn't do anything. I mostly just played alone when I couldn't find others like me.

    We were usually given one meal a day, some cabbage soup and a piece of dry bread. Sometimes if the hunger got too much we would just eat sawdust because it fills you up quickly. It would make us extremely sick so I didn't do it too much. Those who got sick wouldn't get better. It's too risky to send orphan children to hospitals, and I guess too much effort. If you're sick you're fucked. Sometimes Americans who I guess felt guilt would bring us clothes or food to eat. The workers would act like they cared while the Americans were there and we would feast on the food and finally wear warm clean clothes. The second they left the workers would sell it all, and we would all get sick because of the high quality food. It would be better if they never came, it was just false hope and a plaster to cover up the problem.

    Most of the workers were abusive. They weren't afraid to hit you. Sometimes they would leave you alone in basements with nothing and nobody for days on end. They certainly weren't afraid of breaking bones. One time, I was so scared of one of them who cornered me that I jumped out of a fourth floor window and broke both my legs. I thought she was going to kill me. She probably was going to.

    Kids would go missing constantly. Missing in various ways. At one of the orphanages I lived in one person would kill themselves a month. One girl slit her wrists in my room and nobody bothered to move her for two days. Some nights I would go to sleep and in the morning two people would be missing, and there would be new blood stains on the wall. Some people would go missing for days, and when they came back they never spoke again. At night I could hear girls screaming, usually taken from their beds by men so they could sell them. Not a lot of the girls made it out.

    I'm not sure how my friends ended up in Eastern Europe. They aren't really sure either. Ben, Matt and Aiden only spoke English when we met but we bonded immediately despite language barriers. We always stuck together, and at night we would take shifts sleeping because we were terrified of being taken away. When the person awake heard someone wandering the halls, we would all hide as quickly as possible. It didn't always work, and when we were caught we were put in solitary confinement. Sonny and I were taken away the most. I don't know why those memories are missing, and I don't want to know what happened.

    To be honest I didn't usually associate myself with the others much. It wasn't easy making friends since I was in and out so often. Honestly, most of them scared me. If they weren't so messed up they couldn't communicate they were either emotionally distant or just...ruined. They had trouble looking into people's eyes, they didn't trust anyone and I guess we all have a weird thing about touching. I'm still friends with some people I met, but most have killed themselves. It feels weird seeing each other in "real" life. It's easier to just hide the truth and pretend I'm like everyone else, I don't talk about my childhood a lot and I don't want to be forced to remember by being faced with it.

    The conditions we lived in were horrible. There were massive rooms where we would sleep, a couple kids to one bed. There wasn't air conditioning or heating, and we never had proper clothing/ blankets. Usually the clothing you came in was the clothing you were going to stay in. The beds had bugs in them, and the bugs would frequently go under my skin. We spent a lot of time building up courage to cut them out. Water came out brown and usually made us sick. There were holes in the walls, garbage everywhere. A few of them didn't even have electricity, so at night it was terrifying and cold. The worst were definitely Russia, Belarus, Ukraine, Romania, Austria and Croatia. The best were in Denmark, the Netherlands or the UK. The worst was Novokuznetsk, but that's something I'd rather not talk about. Russia was always the scariest place because that's where most would go missing,

    We weren't really allowed to do much. Sometimes we would smuggle cards in and play with them. There were always rumours about the forests surrounding the orphanages so we would just stay out. Escaping wasn't an option, because the towns the orphanageswere in were more dangerous than the orphanage itself. My friends and I mostly spent our time with the younger ones. Honestly, we made up stories about how great the outside world was so they wouldn't kill themselves when they got older.They probably did it anyways when they found out we lied.

    Those older than three are fucked. If you aren't adopted by then, that was it. You were going to be part of the system for the rest of your life. People don't want to adopt a 10 year old, they want a child who will forget their past life and easily fit into their new life. Usually orphanages lie about the age of a child to keep them available for longer. I'm most likely much older than I think I am. I don't remember any adoptions happening ever after I turned 5 years old. A lot of my friends killed themselves because it's hard knowing that someone isn't going to swoop in and save you from your misery one day, that just isn't reality.

   The last orphanage I was in was in Poland when I was 17 in February, before I was sent to my last group home. When I turned 18 and finally was free of orphanages and group homes I kind of went insane because I wasn't used to choices and freedom. It's shocking to be able to walk outside and go wherever you want when you've never been able to do that. Going shopping was a new thing to me, going to a park was something I had only dreamed of. I kind of still forget I'm free, it doesn't feel right eating food,  going out for coffee, or even buying a new jumper. It doesn't seem fair. I have a lot of trouble in my day to day life with it, I just feel extreme guilt when I try and eat a lot of food or do something for myself.

   The worst thing for me was always, and still is, seeing normal people. I'm not going to pretend like I don't feel bitter towards those who have parents. I have extreme jealousy towards my friends who grew up like you should. I feel like I'm being stabbed in the back every time I see a son and his mum out together. I feel like I'm missing a huge piece of my life, I never got to experience what everyone else did and that's the worst thing for me. If everything in my life fails I have nobody to go to, I'm all alone.I have nobody to speak to who really knows me like a parent would. I don't really understand what a home cooked meal is. Nobody has disciplined me, I feel as though I have no morals because I find it difficult to tell the difference between right and wrong. It's hard being in an orphanage for 18 years and knowing that nobody wants you. Plenty of people came in to adopt when I was younger, but nobody wanted me. I feel like everyone hates me and I'm inferior to others because I wasn't chosen. I feel as though if my own mother would rather kill herself than raise me, nobody is ever going to want me. I could die and it wouldn't truly effect anyone.