Praying for another beginning and wishing for another end . . .

“My sketches are all over the floor because we do not have a table or at least I am not allowed to use it to draw. My work from several weeks is now lost and my mom is standing in front of me, stepping on them, and shouting why don’t I go to work instead and bring money home? She is screaming at me why I am not like my brother that is taking care of the family, earning money with God knows what. That brother that was in jail already once and maybe will go again, that brother that does not respects his girlfriend and cheats on her, that brother that even got pregnant a woman while being married with another. This is the kind of person she is giving me as an example.

She will always shout at me that I do not worth nothing and that I am homosexual because she never sees me with girls. I am not like my brothers with a lot of money and women. I am not at all like them.

But how did I arrive here?

I am that little boy that my mother left behind when she went away to search for a better future. I am that boy that she left with my aunt and my grandfather thinking that was a safe environment, that they will take good care of me, but was exactly the contrary and they physically and verbally abused me and took my money.

I was screaming inside for help and the only person who could have helped me was my mother, but she was not there, and she will never come back. Seeing that I do not get any help or support from the people that were supposed to be there to protect me, I become very introverted and did not trust anyone.

Now, I am still doing this, and it became almost impossible to open to someone. But then, something happened.

My mother managed, after flirting with a guy and fooling him to give her money, to buy me a plane ticket and bring me here with her. I was in a new country, where I couldn’t speak the language and had no friends. A 12 years old kid with no friends.

Then I saw her in the middle of the class – my teacher. I have never seen a person be so kind as she was.

At that time, a few years ago, I felt that I was against everyone, against the teachers, against the classmates, against the people on the street, against any stranger that will look weird at me. I was angry and I would not understand this world. I could not communicate or trust someone.

I would struggle with the language barrier, so the only way to defend myself was to be violent towards the people that were mocking me and be rebellious with the teachers, I was afraid to communicate with them, I was afraid that they will not understand me. I will get into a lot of trouble at school and created a bad reputation for myself.

She was there the whole time. She was responsible for the kids at school that had this kind of behavior issues and for those who will find it difficult to approve some courses. She was a mentor and always was involved in a lot of school activities, so I was obligated by circumstances to spend a lot of time with her, and then, I trusted her, slowly, and managed to open about everything that was happening at home.

I will receive from this person that motherly love and attention that I have never received from my own mother. She will always be there to help me and to take care of me.

She was herself a mother too, and later on, I will find out that my teacher was also rebellious as a teenager, and because of this she was able to connect so good with the kids that had problems in school. She had a girl, older than me, and I never had a sister, so I always wanted to impress her. I have never received that love from anyone, so I was scared to do something wrong and lose it.

I remember one time when my mother decided not to feed me anymore because I wasn’t bringing any money at home. I did not want to quit school and go to work. Which future I will have then? I was just a child!

My teacher invited me for lunch, and it was like a miracle had happened. I was starving. When I arrived, her daughter was there. I did not know she will also be there. I was really afraid she will not like me. I could not risk losing contact with my teacher or disappoint her. She was the only one to love me. I was so panicked that I will do a fool of myself in front of her daughter that I decided to leave without eating. I was still so hungry, but I could not risk disappointing these people. I would have given everything I had in that moment to have a bite of that food.

Another time we went with my teacher, together with her friends, and her daughter to a concert. After some moments, she invited me to have ice cream. She was as kind as her mother was with me.

She will tell me nice things trying to make me feel comfortable. I barely could talk, and she barely could hear me when I would find the courage to say something. She was saying I am a good person and that people need to get to know me, that I should not be afraid. I was shaking. Doesn’t she know where I am coming from? I do not worth nothing. I could not, I felt so ashamed and I thought she does not like me, that I caused her a bad impression- the shy guy that could not even talk. I was having a panic attack and I run away. My teacher will hate me.

But no, she was still there for me, every time I will need it, treating me like a son she never had.

When I started going to high school, she will be the one taking care of me. I changed with the time because she was there to support me and now the teachers loved me. I even got a diploma of merit awards and a scholarship to pay for the things at school. That rebellious child managed to win something.

After talking to my mom and offering to help, my mother felt relieved to get rid of that responsibility – a kid in school. My mother never went to school neither showed any interest in learning.

The teacher will go with me to the hospital when I will need glasses and will make everything possible to get them for free. My mother would never give me that money. She will take care that I will be good at school. She will come to talk with the teachers to see how I was doing. If I had a course that was difficult for me, she will find me a tutor to give me private classes.

This woman was and still is an angel, so kind and friendly to everyone, and she had so many friends everywhere she went to. She will try to help me to get into the military so I will have a roof over my head, and I will be able to continue studying. But I didn’t pass some exams. Maybe my mother is right, and I do not worth anything.

And now, I am standing here, with my mom screaming and stepping over my sketches. I would like to tell her I want to study architecture, but she will never support me. Do not worry, mom! One day I will be able to give you, with my job at Mc Donald’s, the money you ask for and maybe then, only then maybe you will love me!”

I am standing here and writing this story with tears in my eyes. It is not my story, but the story of a friend of mine. That daughter of this amazing teacher is my friend and she shared with me and agreed to publish it.

I tried, and for sure I failed, to tell the story with his eyes, putting myself in the shoes of this teenager who dreams to be an architect, the teenager with so low self-esteem and zero self-confidence which has no support from his family, but thanks God, he found strangers to help him.

This can be your story too, the story of everyone!

My question to all this is that, I completely understand we are all coming from different countries, different cultures, different backgrounds, but how is it possible, still, nowadays, with all the access to the technology and to the information, to be so difficult or almost impossible for some people to make the difference between good and bad?

Version in Spanish: https://journeywithmada.com/historia-nr-8/

Version in Romanian: https://journeywithmada.com/povestea-nr-8/