Sorry

By Anonymous

I was born in 1996 in Mexico. My first steps were when I was one and a half years old. I started speaking when I was two years old.  When I was 6, I remember that I woke at 5:00 in the morning to help my mother cook and arrange the sweet candies to sell in front of schools. In time, my mama and my brothers saved up enough money to buy a sewing machine to make clothes. We also began to grow corn, beans, chiles, and avocados. My grandfather gave us chickens that were helpful to us because they produced eggs to sell.  In this way, our little business began to grow.  In time, we got cows that produced much milk. We felt blessed and happy.

When I was 9 years old, I felt happy to start school. It was my first time at school and I only had one friend. She was kind to me. But with time, my teacher started to treat me badly. If I arrived one minute late to class, he hit me with the wooden ruler 5 times. My hands became red and sore and my back too. Sometimes he took me out of class because he didn’t like the way I wrote my letters. He said my work was horrible and I should write it again 50 times in a loud and angry voice.

Over the years, I became sick with anemia and bulimia. This bad treatment was the reason I felt that no one cared about me. One day, I was sent to the hospital because I became dizzy at school and it was very serious. The Mexican hospital charged a large amount of money for my medical treatment. I am talking about more than 30,000 thousand pesos. It was too much for my family to pay. My mother spoke to my 2 older brothers who had left for New York about our situation. They put together money to help us and I was brought to the border.

Many things happened, but I met my parents in Las Vegas and we went in a van to the airport. When I arrived in New York, it was snowing. This was the first time I saw snow and I reached out my hands to catch it.  It was marvelous! I was 11 years old and I was placed in the 5th grade in New York. I met new people.

Things were still not easy. When I turned 14 years old, I felt like ending my life. I was bullied and I was older. Then I had a very strange experience. I felt my spirit rising from my body. I saw the doctors in the operating room. I saw my body being cleaned of the toxic poison. I saw everyone around my dead body. I saw myself between hell and heaven.  Then I felt the hand of our Lord Jesus. I held his hand and he told me I would be alright.

When I was 17, I had my baby. I didn’t think life could make me happy, but it did again. I live for him. I cannot tell you my whole story. I have told you the parts of my story that I can tell you.