Yes, I am posting a lot today.

The 10-20-30 Virus has been cast upon me by Deanne. The goal is to think about where you were 10, 20, and 30 years ago and then tag other people with it. So here goes.

10 years ago it was nearing the end of 1997. I was twelve and it had been the most horrific year of my family's life for reasons which I cannot divulge. Long story short, my stepdad had legally adopted me in April and shortly thereafter (for unrelated reasons) we were forced to leave the Mission where we had served for almost seven years. We (my mom, my brother Peter, then an infant, and me) moved in with a friend at a trailer park while my dad was "away". Yes, we went to visit him. Yes, we wished we could touch our hands across the protective plexiglass. Yes, we wrote letters every day.

I discovered that year my tendency to shut down psychologically when catastrophic events which I cannot comprehend occur. It's happened again once in early 2002 following two nearby school shootings and 9/11. I had a nervous breakdown that summer. One hot afternoon I told my mom that I couldn't handle life anymore and I had to get away. Half an hour later she came into my room and asked if I would like to spend some time in Germany. Her sister had just called and they had worked it out.

So I went to Germany for five weeks, got to know my family, spent time with my biological grandparents. It was amazing. While I was gone, my court-order-delayed new birth certificate came in the mail, with my new dad's name on it, granting me US citizenship.

I homeschooled during that 97-98 year, my first year of high school. I learned a lot of things like: what it really means to love someone, you can't believe everything you read, books shouldn't be left outside when it's going to rain, labradors and peacocks don't mix, real friends stick by you, and it's scary when you start your period for the first time and your mom isn't home.

20 years ago, I was two. My mom had just thrown out her boyfriend, my biological father, and was trying to straighten out her life, which meant that I was getting passed from aunt to uncle to godmother to grandma and back. It was the year that I toppled down a set of stairs in my baby walker, which happens to be my first real memory.

30 years ago, I wasn't so much as a thought. My mom was 13, in high school, and beating up kids for picking on disabled people. She had great aspirations, my mother, and it would be seven years before I would arrive and dash all her hopes against the brick wall of reality. But it would be many more years before I would come to realize that I was not a mistake, not the ruining factor in her life, but rather the saving factor. If not for me, she wouldn't be alive. But that's another story.

P.S. I guess the goal of this is to tag someone else, but I have to think about it first. Get back to me later.