Dreaming of Love (1)

[Virtual Presenter] Does my story flow smoothly or are there parts that feel confusing or abrupt? Specifically the ending. Are there any awkward phrasings or overly complex sentences that could be simplified? Are there any parts that feel too vague or need more detail to fully immerse you as the reader?.

[Audio] Dreaming of Love Zuleica Hanson 1/18/24 Intro to Creative Writing.

[Audio] The first time I was abandoned, I was barely old enough to walk. I don't remember much from those days. I know I would cry and cry and never get my needs met which eventually led to me not crying overall. I lost a piece of my expression of emotion because my biological mother apparently had other responsibilities besides taking care of her child. I was holding on to life by a thread when the social workers found me in my small house with dirt floors in the Amazon of Peru. Along with the social workers I was introduced to my 4 siblings who I hadn't met yet. I was 2 when I was taken away to the orphanage, that cold place called Hogar de Esperanza, how ironic though because this was no home of hope. A lot of horrendous things happened here behind closed doors of this so-called Christian facility. I was 3 when I got sent back to my biological mother because she said this time she would take care of us. However, that couldn't be farther from the truth. I spent a lot of time in that hollow place, playing with the chickens that we shared a room with, and watched a stranger be forced to step into the role of my mother when she was only 10. I admire her now; she was the strongest of us all. She was old enough to understand everything that was happening and still look out for us in every way that she could. Loved us when our biological mom couldn't. I was 4 when I was adopted with my siblings. Our adoption process was very difficult because my biological mother did not want to give up her rights to us. We spent some time going back and forth between the orphanage and our pathetic "home" in the Jungle. Soon enough we got approved to be adopted by Joel and Robyn, a loving couple who had volunteered at the orphanage for a year, who we'd met before and grew a bond with during our time there. I didn't completely understand at the time what exactly was happening but I did know that I was safe with them, they cared for me and I could feel it. A strange distant feeling. I had a second chance.

[Audio] at a family. But just because we were getting taken out of this horrible situation doesn't mean that our pasts disappeared. My older siblings-Karina, Araceli, Dany, and Yen-had lived through things I couldn't even comprehend. They had their own scars, their own trauma, their own battlefield. Consequently, those nightmares were brought into this bright and beautiful new home. My oldest sister Karina, experienced the most, and her poor mind betrayed her. Witnessing multiple altercations and physical attacks from Karina to my parents was confusing to me. Why would my sister want to hurt and get mad at the people caring for us? I remember the first truly terrifying experience as vividly as I see things today. I was helping set the dining table for dinner. Folding the cloth napkins and putting them on top of the round white intricately designed placemats, neatly placing the forks and knives on the correct sides of the plate, always had to make sure things were perfect for Mom. Then a big banging sound came from behind me. I turned my head. Blood. Blood everywhere. There was blood on the walls, on the floor, on the two messy bodies desperately fighting each other. My mom was trying to calm and hold my sister down to get her to stop attacking her. Blood all over my mom's white silk shirt. I looked down at my sister, blood all over her face. Blood coming from her nose? Why was she bleeding? What was happening? Why is she trying to hurt my mom again? I stared. Unable to do anything else. We all stared. Watched as Karina created an incident again. Time stood still. Then the dreadful sirens came. Knocks came at the door. Some lady in a pantsuit told my siblings and I to go downstairs. I took a step, and with each step, I could see better down the hallway, where my mom was talking to the scary guys in uniforms and some people in white shirts with black pants examined.

[Audio] my sister. I spaced out after that. I don't remember getting to the couch. I watched as the lady asked my siblings questions about what happened and they answered. Who was this lady and why was she wanting to know so much? Then she asked me the same questions individually. Why would she do that? Didn't she just ask these questions? I couldn't speak though, my voice never came. I just stared at her with mistrustful eyes wondering why she was here. Eventually, my mom came down, she had washed the blood off her hands and arms and was wearing new clothes. She rushed to us asking if we were ok. Shouldn't we be the ones asking her that? I was confused. There was a long talk with the pantsuit lady and we came up with a safety plan - one I didn't quite understand. And that was it. The red, white, and blue lights left, as well as the pantsuit lady, all the cars left our driveway. I ate dinner with Dany and Yen while Araceli and Karina were in their room. My mom was on the phone with my dad. Life went on like nothing happened. That's just how we acted every single time an incident occurred. I always watched- always quiet, and never made a fuss. Never spoke up when my siblings abused me, and never retaliated against any negative attacks derived from them. I had to be the good one, the one that made good choices, the one that wasn't another problem on my parent's hands. I couldn't express myself the way that I desperately needed to. I cleaned up messes I didn't make. If I was perfect then I would go unnoticed and never draw any attention because perfection is silent. And silence is easy to forget which is the way I liked it. While my siblings caused chaos, I stayed in the background. While they screamed at our parents, I smiled and nodded no matter what I was feeling. While they broke things, I fixed them. However, I had some moments of peace. At night, I dreamed of a different life. I dreamed of my biological mother, the one I barely remembered. I imagined she had soft hands that never pushed me away, a voice that whispered lullabies instead of pure silence. She would tuck me into.

[Audio] bed, and tell me how special I was, how much she wanted me. I imagined her searching for me, calling my name through the streets of Trujillo, begging the universe to bring me back, desperate to find the daughter she lost. She made Peruvian meals that made the whole house smell like home. She never gave me up. But in reality, she had let me go and I told myself I didn't care. I never actually wanted to know her, to speak to her, to see her face, it was just something I imagined to escape the reality I was living in. My mother always told me that I had the opportunity to reach out and get to meet my biological mom but I never wanted to. Truthfully why would I want to when I have a mother who undoubtedly loves me and takes care of me? Sometimes the dreams turned dark. I would see her in a different life, in a different house, with new children she loved. I would call out to her, but she wouldn't hear me. I would reach for her, but she would walk away. Later that dream became a reality. Turns out that she had more children that she ended up keeping and taking care of. I was 16 when I found out I had brothers I didn't know. I had a sister who was pregnant. Would that have been how my life turned out? No. To be honest I would've been dead a long time ago had I stayed in Peru with that mother. Eventually, as my siblings left one by one, my parents started paying more attention to my needs. I grew a stronger bond with them. I learned how to express myself properly even though it was and still is extremely difficult. I learned the reasons why my siblings acted the way they did. With each event that happened, I became more aware of the truth. All my siblings and I had reactive attachment disorders, anxiety, PTSD, and depression. Parting gifts given to us from our life in Peru. Except as the youngest I had more trauma from the experiences that my siblings.

[Audio] gave me while also inherently having the consequences of trauma from when I was 4 and under. I started putting the missing pieces of the puzzle together. Making sense of events that happened. For example, my mom had accidentally elbowed my sister in the face that night when they were wrestling on the ground. That's why there was blood everywhere. I was forced to grow up and understand things sooner than I should've. My childhood was stolen. I was furious. I felt so much anger towards my biological mother. But more than that I felt pain. I admitted to myself the way I truly felt. I cared. I was so unbelievably hurt. How could someone hurt a little kid? Why would she not want me? Soon I found out that my mother was a prostitute. My father was part of the drug cartel. She had challenges of her own. She was young, poor, and in a very bad situation that she couldn't get herself out of. I found out that she had wanted me but couldn't take care of another life. She loved us in the only way she could even though it wasn't perfect. She tried. I was no longer bitter towards my biological mother. I came to see things from a different perspective. Forgiveness. I felt at peace. I mustered up the courage to talk to my mom about my biological mother. What her life is like now. What she's doing. How my other siblings are. I told her I think I might be ready to get to know her a little bit more. I want to work on building some type of relationship with her. If only to know what she looks like or sounds like. But my mom said nothing. I looked at her eagerly, desperate. She looked down as if in pain. "I can't tell you what she's doing now because she passed away during a C-section a couple of weeks ago.".

[Audio] She was gone. Dead. And just like that, every dream, every hope, every what-if—was gone too. My mom continued to explain that this wasn't the way she wanted me to find out but my whole world went silent. I couldn't believe it. I spent my whole life dreaming about the perfect relationship with my biological mother. I spent my whole life imagining 'what-ifs' with her instead of trying to build a relationship because I was too scared, too bitter, and too resentful. I'll never get the chance now. I'll never know what she sounds like. I'll never know who she's like. I'll never be able to truly know her. I lost my opportunity. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I just sat there, staring at the floor, like I always did. Like I always had. I was thinking about her name. Ciela. That's all I had left..