My Mom Left Me After Birth Now She's Found Me And Asks Me For Help

Hi, people, my name is Neal, and I’m 18. My parents abandoned me when I was a baby, and I had to grow up alone with my disease. And now I'm faced with the choice of taking care of my biological mom or not.

Yeah, I never knew my parents because they gave me up because I wasn't born normal. Yes, I look pretty good now, but when I was born I was diagnosed with cerebral palsy. It's a terrible disease. Because of brain damage, I had motor problems. Actually, not just problems... I literally couldn't control my arms and legs, and my fingers flexed uncontrollably. And it looks like my parents decided not to bother themselves with taking care of a sick child. So I was put up for adoption. But in our country there is one problem with this system of adoption. Many parents adopt children with disabilities just to get the monetary benefits for them, but in reality they do not pay any attention to these poor kids. And this was what happened to me.

Of course I don’t remember anything that happened during the first years of my life, but my childhood and youth I remember perfectly, because it was long and painful. I spent all my early years in a wheelchair. The doctors had a hard time with me, and my therapy lasted for years. My foster parents treated everything carelessly too, which also slowed down the process. By the way, they never hid from me the fact that I was adopted. On the contrary, my adoptive mother and father reminded about it every opportunity they got. And it was not just them. There were also two older boys in the family. And no, I can't call them brothers... not even half-brothers.

Almost all the difficulties of my childhood happened because of them. They laughed at me because I couldn't control my body. I couldn't even drink water from a glass, and they found that funny. But that's nothing. What saddened me the most was that they were angry with me. I was an outsider who was adopted by their parents and I was just a stranger to them. They were unhappy that I was taking up a spot in their house, that I was eating their food, and that I was taking their parent's attention from them. Although I never felt I had the attention of my parents. Yeah, these kids were very angry. They bullied me even though I was disabled. And worst of all, I couldn't even fight back. I couldn’t even say something back, because I also had problems with my speech. But it seems to me that because I wanted so badly to prove to them that I was normal, I started to progress. I learned to walk, and I even fixed my speech problems, but they still found a way to make fun of me. Their favorite joke was to hide something from me on the top shelf so I couldn't reach it. Once they hid my phone on the bookshelf, and to get it, I had to stand on a stool. Oh, this was a real challenge for me. I could barely climb it, and as I reached up, my legs gave out on me, and I fell to the floor. I almost broke my arm and hit my head. I even had to get stitches. But guess what? I was blamed for this incident. My mom said I shouldn't have climbed on the stool, and the real culprits went unpunished.

During these moments, I liked to be alone and paint in my room. And I know what you're thinking. How could I even draw a straight line? Yeah, it was hard, but it was very good for my motor skills. We were told that in therapy. Of course the pictures came out terrible, and they just turned into another reason for other kids to laugh at me. But it made me happy, so I wasn’t upset. I mean, if I overreacted every time they mocked me I would have just gone crazy. But on the contrary, I saw it as an incentive to exercise more and build my muscles. The only way that you could really hurt me was to mention my parents who had abandoned me. It was always painful for me. Probably because all the other children's jokes were little things for the sake of being funny, but what my biological parents did to me, well, that was true . So there was always a desire inside me to find them and prove that I was a normal person and that they made a mistake that cost me years of suffering. But I could turn that suffering into fuel for the internal engine that drove me forward. This motivated me to exercise even more, and I got double the pleasure and benefit from doing it. It helped me to get rid of bad thoughts, and I improved my motor skills. Honestly, I could've spent the whole day training. And after the exhausting exercises I would sit down to draw again. As you can see, almost everything that I did was to be able to repair my body.
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