Do not waver, the Lord shall not falter.
I understand your doubts, so I hope what I'm about to tell you will help you. I also hope this will help me as well. But before I continue, I would like to say that you can choose to be believe my story or not. If you do or don't it's ok. I would just like to give advice and a perspective that I believe will help, not to be prideful or anything. But, here is my story and opinion on what can help.
I had a quite a rough childhood growing up. As most other humans have. I was born and raised in a single parent household. My mother raised me. I never knew my biological father, nor do I know him now. Nor does she know, so she says. My mother & grandmother were the only present in my life as my aunt lived in another state. My mother spent time with me when she could, but I was mostly raised by babysitters my time with her. For a long time, I resented her for that. But, I've come to let that go some few years ago now. I have current contact with as I have for some time. I am twenty-four years of age by the way. Sorry, I am getting off track now. I am an introvert always have been. But I always loved playing with other kids. I didn't have much friends growing up, or ever for that matter. I was a far kinder person when I was a child. Hate and anger has hardened my heart, but God is softening it. When I was fours years of age, I had to go into foster care for one year. After that year, I was in my mothers custody. At the age of five close to age six, I was a molested by a family friend who was my best friends sister and babysitter at that time. She was sixteen years of age. Which has affected me to this day. I had started masturbating at a very young age. Lust & masturbation have damaged my life in so many aspects. I never told my mother until fairly recently. But that's over and done with now. At age seven, I went back into foster care. The reason, I can not say. I wish to protect my mothers honor. As that is her story to tell and not my own. One day I was in school, got called to the office, and was picked up by a social worker who told me I won't be living with my mother anymore and brought me to a shelter home in a town miles away from where I lived. He was a kind man, one of my favorite case workers that I had. I had a few case workers over the years of my time in the foster system. At that shelter I experienced bullying constantly. The children their were very hostile. But, I came to understand that they were bitter like I was. Angry and filled with hate as I later came fo be. I stayed at that shelter for three to six months and did not attend school. Later asked my case manger to leave because it wasn't someplace I felt safe nor comfortable. I was a very emotional person for some time. Didn't really toughen up emotionally until around thirteen year's old. Eventually, I went back to the first foster shelter I stayed in when I was four.
I lived there for another several months until I was taken in by my foster mother for a time, who I will call Karen (obvious satire). I lived with Ms Karen for two years from age eight to ten. Wasn't a very good relationship. I wasn't a perfect child, I had my issue's of my own. I lied at times to her, didn't do well in school, didn't obey everything she told me etc... During my time with her I experienced verbal and physical abuse weekly, sometimes daily when she was off from work. She too wasn't around all the time. So, I had babysitters once again. There were times we would stay at her sisters place, and her neices would lie on me and say I said and or did mean things to them without any proof. She would then beat me. Awhile enduring bullying by kids at my school and children at the local playground by our home. Very rough years of my life. In that time when I was with her, there was an instance at school when I was a bully. Something, I am very not proud of. There was a girl in my class who I call Susan. Almost everyone bullied her. My friends, the very few that I had, also joined in on the bullying. I later did as well. When most people stopped, my friends included, I continued for a short while. My friends stopped talking to be as much. I realized, how horrible of a person I am. How can I, someone who has endured bullying earlier in my childhood resort to bullying. Becoming the very people I disliked for so long. It's simple really. I lacked God, love within me, and I was insecure. Something that still bothers me now. I try to remember this instance now when passing judgements on others, or when others pass judgements on me. I currently work customer service, which I won't be for long since I now have a new job. But dealing with customers is not my thing. I deal with ignorant people everyday that I work. Hearing people say and do moronic things hours on end will drive you crazy. It's annoying seeing it in public as well. But, who am I to judge? Who am I? A person who is weak in faith. A person who's own foolishness and ignorance has hurt others as well as myself. A person who has told lies. A person who has not known God and is far from him. In short, who am? Also, how can I an ignorant hypocritical sinner, judge any other human. I am no one, and I cant. I would end up apologizing to Susan to which we made up and became friends. In the second year of my staying with Karen, I left to live and be adopted by another family. Before then, in the beginning of that second year Karen and I moved to a house in the city where her sister lived. I also transferred schools. An instance that occurred a month after my 10th birthday, would change my time with Ms Karen. One night she was very upset with me. I was doing poor in school and I messed up the laundry later in the day after school when we were at the laundry mat. I also hit her in the head by mistake when I was opening the door to get the last of our stuff. When we got home, she told me to drop everything and get my backpack. We then went to her sisters house. She had me sit at the table and do work. She yelled at me the entire time. Her mother, sister, and niece's were all in the house and present. At which point she went upstairs to her sisters room and got a handful of belts. She had me stand up and remove my shirt. She then got behind me and starting beating me. She was hitting my back, arms, butt, as well as my thighs. I was crying in pain the entire time. Her mother, sister and niece's all watched her beat me. Afterwards, she made me go to bed. I couldn't stop crying. I tried to lay on my side to avoid the pain, but she forced me to lay on my back. She also told me if I didn't stop crying, she would beat me again. The next morning in the bathroom getting ready for school, I looked at my back when taking off my clothes to change. My entire back was black, blue, and purple. I couldn't even see a bit of my complexion on my back. Also had parts of my arms and thighs look the same. I privately showed my teacher who sent me to the nurse. The nurse was with me for hours until the police came and brought me to the hospital to take pictures and create a case and have records. My case worker had contacted a family who I stayed with for a month when Susan went on vacation to a wedding and didn't want to bring me to stay with them. They agreed to it. There were many kids that they have adopted prior to me. That was my home and family for nine years.
This relationship was not good either. But, I have come to understand and accept that I could have taken alternative actions to have improved our relationship. I have tried many times, but I don't believe I tried hard enough nor thought of the many different ways I could have handled situations. There were things that they have said and did which I did not like. But, I too have said and done harsh things in my time there. I don't want to make it seem as if I am always in the right, and the people I am speaking about are always in the wrong. I believe it's important to clarify before I move forward. That being said, sorry for this long and drawn out post that I could have probably summarized. Personally, I don't like to leave out details as I believe there are examples that can help with an overall perspective. Well, within almost a year I was adopted by this family. I didn't want to be adopted, but at ten years of age, what would you have done? I'm not going to go through an entire nine years but I'll try to keep this one short. I endured bullying all my nine years there. At home, and at school. In middle school, and in high school. I was never a "cool" kid. I didn't get along with my fellow adoptive siblings to begin with. There were always arguments. Not just with me, but between others. There was 11 of us. One of my brothers, who I will call John, hated me for some reason. He was bipolar and extremely manipulative. In the month when I first settled into the household, I didn't go to school right away. When I eventually started attending the same school as John and our younger brother who I will call Greg, he had already spread lies about me. He told people my mother died, that I'm mentally slow, that I'm gay, and that my genitals are tiny. Not of which are true. But still hurtful at the time. He also made fun of my weight at the time. despite being very overweight himself at that point in time. He called me a problem child and all sorts of names. This happened for all nine years of my stay. I told my parents he was always bothering me and we had argued all the time so they knew. But all they did was talk to him and tell me to ignore him. My parents are also entrepreneurs, both having their businesses. They were never really home. My older siblings looked after us. After all, none of us were allowed outside the home unless they were at home. So basically, none of us had much of a social life outside of school if any. I resented them for never spending time with me. I've had asked them multiple times can we spend time together. They gave me the same replies everytime. It was either they were too busy, tired, or they could sometime in the future. But never did. I became more hateful that they would tell me this, yet, they would attend events my other brothers had and but never mine. In the three years I played HS football, they went to 3 games. Why would someone adopt so many children and not habe time for them? Far too many parents do this. Have kids and push them away with video games, tv, and scholastics. I do indeed understand they were busy, but time is important. They didn't give me any. I mentioned this, and they always forgot. I mentioned to them why I was unhappy with them. Every time we would have the conversation again, they forgot all the reasons I told them before. It hurt my heart. A lifetime of neglect and brokenness is all I had ever known, and believed I would ever know. My adoptive parents are Christian and very religious. They would constantly shove their faith onto us which annoyed me. When I started living with this family, I started to become more angry and hateful. Feelings that I've held prior to living there. So not necessarily their fault. During my time with my adoptive family I was quite a militant atheist. Despite believing in God and wanting him deep down. I insulted my parent's faith, their character, blasphemed, and hated the Church. I hated how they would always talk about God and force us to go to church. We argued all the time about Christianity and faith. I them and everyone around. My father told me I don't know what love is and I need to stop hating God. How dare he tell me such a thing. How dare he a hypocritical sinner who has neglected me tell me about love. Love you say? How can one love when one has abused, humiliated, molested, and neglected. For so long I have felt forsaken by God. But in truth, he was right. I didn't know love, and struggle to now. They kicked me out of the house, understandably why. Reasons being I didn't respect them and didn't share their faith. Understandable for the former, not the latter. I didn't respect them because they didn't respect me. The excuse I told myself years ago. Even if I may have not gotten respect, it was not excuse to retaliate in the same manner. Well I left the house and lived on my own. I had a college scholarship and went to community college. It was a scholarship given to adoptive children in CT, they recently ended the program I believe. Anyways, I messed up the money I was getting monthly. Dropped out college and got a job doing fast food. Later became homeless. Slept on a bench at the bus station for six months. During this time, I was at the worst I had ever been. How I managed? God! Though I still wasn't Christian, I had a strong feeling God was providing me all of the safety and meals which I received during that time. I live in a very poor and dangerous city. God was protecting me, that I am sure. I found a room two weeks before the bus station was going to start banning homeless people from sleeping on the benches at night when everything shuts down. My hours at the time also went up at my job. Everything worked perfectly. I was praying and asking for God to deliver, he did. For another year and a half, I struggled with my many doubts and questions. I even tried Islam for three weeks. I always knew it wasn't a religion of God deep down. I had a bad feeling entering the Mosque which I sadly brushed off. I should have trusted my gut feeling. I now feel I insulted the Lord that day. Last year in May, I asked for Christ to come into my life and change me and use me for his glory. I struggle, I have many sins and problems. I struggle with pride, lust, anger, holding grudges and many more. Our sins outnumber the sand of the sea. In thought, word, and deed. Since attending an Orthodox church for the first time, I'm excited to go each and every week. Upon asking for Christ to save me, I had never before desired God more in my life more than I do now.
Moral of the story, stay diligent! Do not waver in your faith. Do not deny Christ. God always wants to hear from you, his hand is ever out. Pray, repent, confess, go to church, receive the Eucharist and do all the things God commands. Search up lives of the saints. I recommend you read the book of Job. As well as read about St. Marina The Demon-Slayer, St. Panteleimon, St. Barbara, as well as St. Ignatius of Antioch. Their unwavering faith and zeal inspires me. I believe they'll inspire you too. God Bless you.