would believe such atrocious things about me. Because of their unconditional love for me, they proved to be easily manipulated. How painful it is to write this about two individuals who gave me all of their best and continue to do so even now.

My teenage years brought a new level of this "brokenness" into my life. It may be worth clarifying that my years at home appeared to be very normal to those viewing them from the outside. I was heavily involved in school activi

Is it possible that some individuals are simply born "broken?" Could it be that in spite of proper training and ample opportunities to choose contented, wholesome lives, some of us are simply mis-wired and unable to do so?

I never remember a time when I made good choices. Amazingly, I have possessed that awareness of myself even as early as four years old. I was never abused, never witnessed even questionable behavior within my home and have no memory of traumatizing or heartbreaking events.

I was adopted by my parents when I was only two days old. They had been married for eight years at the time and had tried unsuccessfully for most of that time to conceive a child. I was as treasured and valued as any child could hope to be. By all accounts, my childhood was an enviable one.

I recall questioning my parents' thoughts, opinions and belief systems even before I was old enough to attend kindergarten. My frustrations, even then, included notions that they were jealous of me, convictions that their rules were motivated by nothing more than a quest for power over me and an overwhelming certainty that they regretted adopting me. Reflecting back now, I know that neither my mother nor my father ever showed signs of any of these feelings or behaviors.

As my childhood progressed, I remember continually dancing on the edge of disaster. Lies, manipulation, cunning and pushing every conceivable envelope were talents I began developing long before I reached even ten years of age. My belief that I was smarter than my parents and other adults began to play an even greater role in my life at this point. This belief was exacerbated by the fact that I was rarely caught in any of my misdeeds and when I was, I could easily talk myself out of any type of notable punishment. I was a master at raising "reasonable doubt" and also at displaying indignant horror that my parents would believe such atrocious things about me. Because of their unconditional love for me, they proved to be easily manipulated. How painful it is to write this about two individuals who gave me all of their best and continue to do so even now.

My teenage years brought a new level of this "brokenness" into my life. It may be worth clarifying that my years at home appeared to be very normal to those viewing them from the outside. I was heavily involved in school activit

or heartbreaking events.

I was adopted by my parents when I was only two days old. They had been married for eight years at the time and had tried unsuccessfully for most of that time to conceive a child. I was as treasured and valued as any child could hope to be. By all accounts, my childhood was an enviable one.

I recall questioning my parents' thoughts, opinions and belief systems even before I was old enough to attend kindergarten. My frustrations, even then, included notions that they were jealous of me, convictions that their rules were motivated by nothing more than a quest for power over me and an overwhelming certainty that they regretted adopting me. Reflecting back now, I know that neither my mother nor my father ever showed signs of any of these feelings or behaviors.

As my childhood progressed, I remember continually dancing on the edge of disaster. Lies, manipulation, cunning and pushing every conceivable envelope were talents I began developing long before I reached even ten years of age. My belief that I was smarter than my parents and other adults began to play an even greater role in my life at this point. This belief was exacerbated by the fact that I was rarely caught in any of my misdeeds and when I was, I could easily talk myself out of any type of notable punishment. I was a master at raising "reasonable doubt" and also at displaying indignant horror that my parents would believe such atrocious things about me. Because of their unconditional love for me, they proved to be easily manipulated. How painful it is to write this about two individuals who gave me all of their best and continue to do so even now.

My teenage years brought a new level of this "brokenness" into my life. It may be worth clarifying that my years at home appeared to be very normal to those viewing them from the outside. I was heavily involved in school activi

hen, included notions that they were jealous of me, convictions that their rules were motivated by nothing more than a quest for power over me and an overwhelming certainty that they regretted adopting me. Reflecting back now, I know that neither my mother nor my father ever showed signs of any of these feelings or behaviors.

As my childhood progressed, I remember continually dancing on the edge of disaster. Lies, manipulation, cunning and pushing every conceivable envelope were talents I began developing long before I reached even ten years of age. My belief that I was smarter than my parents and other adults began to play an even greater role in my life at this point. This belief was exacerbated by the fact that I was rarely caught in any of my misdeeds and when I was, I could easily talk myself out of any type of notable punishment. I was a master at raising "reasonable doubt" and also at displaying indignant horror that my parents would believe such atrocious things about me. Because of their unconditional love for me, they proved to be easily manipulated. How painful it is to write this about two individuals who gave me all of their best and continue to do so even now.

My teenage years brought a new level of this "brokenness" into my life. It may be worth clarifying that my years at home appeared to be very normal to those viewing them from the outside. I was heavily involved in school activi

velope were talents I began developing long before I reached even ten years of age. My belief that I was smarter than my parents and other adults began to play an even greater role in my life at this point. This belief was exacerbated by the fact that I was rarely caught in any of my misdeeds and when I was, I could easily talk myself out of any type of notable punishment. I was a master at raising "reasonable doubt" and also at displaying indignant horror that my parents would believe such atrocious things about me. Because of their unconditional love for me, they proved to be easily manipulated. How painful it is to write this about two individuals who gave me all of their best and continue to do so even now.

My teenage years brought a new level of this "brokenness" into my life. It may be worth clarifying that my years at home appeared to be very normal to those viewing them from the outside. I was heavily involved in school activi

would believe such atrocious things about me. Because of their unconditional love for me, they proved to be easily manipulated. How painful it is to write this about two individuals who gave me all of their best and continue to do so even now.

My teenage years brought a new level of this "brokenness" into my life. It may be worth clarifying that my years at home appeared to be very normal to those viewing them from the outside. I was heavily involved in school activities, successful in my efforts to learn almost any task or talent and considered by those who knew me to be an overall well behaved young lady. I seldom drank alcohol with my friends, never used drugs, I respected the curfews my parents set for me and even involved myself in charitable endeavors and activities. I looked very good to the naked eye.

Unfortunately, there was another side entirely to my heart, soul and life. I stole from my friends, lied constantly about meaningless, pointless things, initiated rumors for no other reason than the entertainment value of watching it unfold and made up entire stories to elicit the responses and types of attention I wanted at the time. Sometimes the attention I wanted was pity, sometimes awe and respect, sometimes jealousy and sometimes I wasn't even sure. Whatever it was at the time, however, I could produce a very convincing story on cue for my targeted audience.

I have faked illnesses to the extent that I was hospitalized in an attempt to find the cause, I have played the victim of countless thefts that never existed, threatening notes left in my locker, prank phone calls that never happened....the troubling list is endless and causes my hands to shake even as I type this. Most of these events caused great worry and concern for those who cared about me. Knowing this never even gave me pause.

I suppose that such behaviors could be viewed as nothing more than the slower than hoped for development of a child who was attempting but struggling to find her conscience. Unfortunately, all of these behaviors took wild and somewhat extreme turns as I reached adulthood. As an adult, I can proudly claim that I know I am incapable of only two behaviors. The first, thankfully, is violence. I have never shown any tendency toward this and for that I am extremely grateful. The second, again most thankfully, is sexual deviancy of an