I was born in Latvian Republic of falling apart USSR October 15th
1989. My parents were two exchange students, my mother was from
Siberia and my father was from Cuba. The never got married, in
fact, about a year after I was born they split up and my mother
left Latvia and went back to her mothers, my grannies house in
Siberia, but on the way, she met an American news reporter in
Moscow. She didnt want to look second-hand, being single
mother and all, so she shipped me of to my grand mother and
stayed in Moscow. Little wile later I got a brother and my mother
left to United States. I havent seen her until I got here myself
in 2004.
I grew up as a spoiled child- all grandparents spoil their
grandchildren. Always was good in school, had a few conflicts
here and there just like every child has, but in general I had a
regular childhood, as regular as it gets without a mother and a
father.
When I was in my early teens the marathon of traveling started.
Out of nowhere my father appeared. He demanded me to move to
Latvia. It wasnt an easy thing to do, because it was a different
country now. After a long and expensive paperwork routine I got
to Riga, Latvia. Beautiful country. Again, had a pretty usual
life with little conflict with my father and his new family, but
in general it was pretty average experience.
Two years after, the immigration documents that my mother has
been making for 5-6 years finally were complete, and she wanted
to have her chance with me now. So I had to go back to Russia,
because the whole thing was done through my Russian citizenship.
There were bumps here and there but year later I got to United
States of America.
First few months were a honeymoon. I was experienced in adapting
to new family by then so I had no trouble getting along, even
with a language barrier. I didnt know any English what so ever.
It took me a month or so to speak it fluently, and about 3 to get
the grammar down on high school. I had to, I was put into regular
class and the teachers were nice enough to help me out with
everything. The best way to learn a language is through theater,
I think Shakespeare what made me pick up English so fast.
Six month later, the horror started. The odd part was that, the
person that was terrorizing me, wasnt my stepfather, wasnt my
stepbrother. It was my own mother started giving me hard time
with everything. My stepfather had to reason her sometimes, even
he though it was a little messed up things she did to me at some
point She attempted to kill me, locked me up in psychiatric
clinic, jailed. Finally, before I turned 18, she put me out on
the street, and moved the whole family to a different state.
There started the extraordinary experience for me. In a foreign
country, barely speaking the language, with nobody to turn to, I
had to find ways to survive. I do have a head on my shoulders so
I never had to sleep on the streets, and until this point am
completely independent.
Well that was a little synopses of my life.
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