Where My Childhood Trauma Started (Damn)

I was seeing therapists by 4 years old

For anger and violence I couldn’t control

By 5, my mom gave me up for adoption

Stepdad sayin’, “Now he ain’t my problem”

I’m about to tell you why I was forced to see therapists at 4 years old and why they told my mom to put me in a psychiatric ward when I was 5 years old.

First, I’d like to thank you for watching this video because it’s going to help a lot of people, but it’s about to get intense and I hope this doesn’t bring up any trauma for you like it does for me.

I’d get spanked, hit with the belt…and when that didn’t work, then the metal buckle end of it. I’d get hit with random household objects, locked in a closet, and fed crackers for days at a time, but that story’s a bit special so I want to tell it separately. What I’m saying is, imagine how bad the kid has to be to feel like doing those things to him would help the situation. I was really really REALLY bad. Nothing would make me listen.

Not to self analyze and be that guy, cuz I don’t think I’m smart enough to really do that…I just think I was lashing out because even as a kid I kind of understood that my father was dying in front of me. There was this other guy dating my mom who clearly thought I was in the way and even before THIS stuff I’m about to tell you, I used to see my mom get beat and raped by her previous boyfriend. I believe that added to it. 

I also had TONS of energy and I had nowhere else to direct it, I had no idea how to control it. It’s like being an X-man with powers but you don’t know how to control them so you keep hurting people on accident.

Aside from my terrible self analysis there, the point is, I wouldn’t listen at all, to anyone, ever. I’m kinda still like that

So…how do I say this without sounding crazy…uh…they caught me in my little brother’s crib with a knife in the middle of the night and that was the last straw.

After that, the therapists I was seeing told my mom she needed to admit me to a psychiatric ward for children. I was only 5 years old. I was actually put into two other ones around 9 and 10 years old, but I talk about those crazy reasons why in another video. The only real thing I remember about the psychiatric ward from when I was 5 was the layout and that if we were good, we got to play video games that were on a cart that had a TV on it.

Because of my behavior, I was taking time and energy away from my stepdad and him being happy with my mom and his newborn son. So my stepdad just really wanted to get rid me. There were absolutely no downsides to him. 

What’s screwed up is my dad is the one who introduced my mom to him because he knew he was dying and he thought that his own friend would be someone who would care about me and raise me as his own no matter what since they were friends. My dad was wrong.

Now, this part I’m about to tell you, I didn’t find this extremely messed up information out until just a few years ago. When I found it out, it made me really angry at my mom and it was the moment I truly started hating my stepdad. 

I was on a phone call with my grandma Regina collecting all the information for my life story like this to make sure I had everything in order and knew all the facts before I got it tattooed on me. 

She told me that my stepdad convinced my mom to sign paperwork for the adoption that said after I was gone, no one was legally allowed to request or get any information about me or where I had gone, or even if I was adopted, not even my mom. It’s like literally writing someone out of your life. My stepdad just wanted me gone so he could live his life with his new wife and his new son. 

When I found that out I truly…hated him. Because, in my mind, my whole life I knew he was mean to me or was always screwing with me. But this was a different kind of evil, and I’m sure you can agree with me. 

Here’s the problem, this was when I was 5…at 5 my dad was still alive. They weren’t allowed to do this, but they tried. 

See, my dad’s brain tumors were so bad, he was crippled and in a wheelchair, so the only place that could take care of him was an old folks’ home. It’s even more messed up when you realize my dad was only in his 20s at this time. My stepdad assumed, because my father was debilitated, that if he attempted to give me up for adoption to get rid of me forever, my father’s status wouldn’t allow him to have a say.

But lucky for me, Child Protective Services did go and speak to my father to make sure he was aware of it…and he wasn’t.

📣 Thank you for watching I appreciate you. 

Keep believing in yourself and keep hustlin’.

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