Self Portrait

Self Portrait Of The Author Dear  Reader, November 28,    2022 “A dream written down with a date becomes a goal. A goal broken down into steps becomes a plan. A plan backed by your action makes your dreams come true”.  (background)  You ask me about my life. Your inquiry comes at an appropriate time,  Today is Tuesday. My age is 21 y/o. I was born on the 22nd of August 2001, in Moscow, Russia. After my birth, I was taken to an orphanage and remained there for the first three years of my life, until I was blessed with an adoptive family from America. In the orphanage where I lived, I was raised by nuns. I was restricted from seeing many things compared to what a normal child would see on a day-to-day basis. When my adoptive mother and father came to visit me, I was startled by the looks of a male figure for the first time. My original birth name that was given to me from my biological parents was Dasha Karovolov (даша кароволова). My adoptive father purposefully altered my name to be unique and added an extra A to my name where now it is written as Daasha. The story of how I was adopted is all thanks to my sister. At a young age, she wanted a little sister and one day her parents asked her what she wanted for her birthday and she asked for a 3 y/o sister because that was her favorite number. My sister is also adopted, but in b*așov România. My adoptive parents first tried the same adoption agency where they adopted my older sister; however, the facility was no longer in use. Down the road following finding a younger female sibling upon my sister's request, they got a call  that there was a three-year-old girl located in Moscow, Russia, hence where I came into play. Upon arrival, my adoptive mother and father had a hard decision to make; which child would go home with them? My adoptive mother was hesitant to choose between another girl that was near the same age as I was or to pick me. Fortunately, I was blessed to be chosen. It took my adoptive parents many months and planned upon my arrival to land in the United States as a U.S. Citizen and to be a ‘Ferguson’. When my parents brought me onto the plane to start my new journey in California, I was astonished by the scenery on the plane, as it was my first time seeing a plane along with many other wonderful sights that day. Once we got off the plane, my entire adoptive family on my maternal and paternal side was there to greet me. At three years old, I did not speak a word of English nor did I know much of Russian to sustain a conversation. My first interaction with my older sister did not go as planned. I forcefully kicked her in the shins. Growing up, my sister and I were inseparable. We did everything together. She had my back and I had hers. It was her and I against the world. Time went on, and we drifted further and further away from each other. My sister, my bestest friend, lived across the room from me. Less than twenty feet away,  but she started shutting her door and the distance went from twenty feet away to feeling like an eternity. The incident that led her existence to vanish was from a trauma that will never be irreversible. Merely at the age of twelve would I discover a night that would permanently change my life indefinitely. I unintentionally disclosed my  adoptive mother having an ongoing affair with another man. At the time, I didn’t understand the depth of the seriousness that this would have an effect on my life. As saddening as it was to reveal the truth, the aching part of it all was reading the countless lies my adoptive mother sent to this stranger. By now you are wondering what lies? My adoptive mother did her best that she could do. Consequently, it was not enough to keep her family together. Throughout my life, she has neglected to fill in the mother duties to be nurturing or attentive in both my sister’s and my lives and for her to tell someone that she has to tuck in her kids or drive them to school is a false statement. With that being said, I was challenged to make one of the hardest decisions in my life that no child should have to go through; “which parent do you want to live with”. Being so young, I didn’t realize the emotional damage my mom had put me through, which clouded my judgment about deciding. Even after I was finally comfortable with choosing my dad, I carried this heavy burden of guilt that had accumulated over the course of my middle school and high school years. Not only did I suffer from my adoptive mother's physical and emotional a***e, but I suffered her pain too. My adoptive mother was born with congenital heart failure. My life was surrounded by doctor visits and hospital trips. There were infinite times where I lost control of my thoughts and emotions trying to collectively puzzle together how to say bye to my mother. Her entire life she always had a heart defect which caused her to need a new heart in the future or she would not live very long. Most of the time she was simply living off  roughly  30%~50% heart function. Having that little momentum of blood flow throughout her heart has caused her to have little to no energy frequently. Her health became my life, it became a part of me. During the new transition from one house to going to two houses, the new school was frightening and uncomfortable. I was insecure and did not feel like I fitted in with the other students because of how different my life was and is going to be. I experienced depression that affected my mind negatively 24/7, leading to suicidal thoughts and attempts.  My entire life I grew up playing soccer. It was my motivation to get outside and escape the thoughts lingering inside of my head. Seeing my mother go through such painful and unimaginable physical trauma as a kid has tampered with my head for years when soccer became my outlet and a positive resource to let my emotions out in a healthy way. Being on a team helps create attachments with people and goals to endure. Without soccer, I wouldn’t be standing here alive today writing to you. Soccer was not just any sport to me, it was everything I put my energy into. It saved me. Soccer was the surrounding saving grace that was a calling to reach for when I felt alone and trapped at the worst times possible. While playing in high school, I had a bad fall, which led to a season of absence. The thought of not having my only outlet and survival kit to continue playing soccer during the worst period of my life killed my soul and destroyed my mentality. I found myself taking my first hit of m*******a and then snorting cocaine just to not feel the weight of defeat I was feeling with my personal, academic, and athletic life. My poor choices led me down my own grave that I was digging for myself. One night, I intentionally took more than I should have, leading me to the hospital where my father gave me an ultimatum; “Come to Texas and start a new life or end up buried six feet down”. That comparison never stood out so clear to me when I realized I needed to make a dramatic change instantly. Hence, I moved to Texas with my father while my sister stayed behind with my grandmother on my paternal side. It was the best thing for me. After having time off, I decided to continue playing soccer in my senior year of high school on a team I never knew and a state I never lived in. Unfortunately, when I tried out for the position of goalkeeper , I did not make the team. I was super bummed out but a month later I was encouraged by the staff to give it another go. The team was holding another tryout session. This time, I prepared myself and trained my  body to be fit and when it came to the big deal breaker, I successfully made the team. We had a great season until the pandemic of Covid19 unwelcome invited its virus globally, shutting down all personal physical contact. School, work, everything was on pause for a period of time and yet I still had hope to return to school just to play soccer on my senior home night. That date passed along with many other days that went by and the hope I had was declining more and more and that is when I began to encounter my faith and relationship with God. During the lockdown, I took it upon myself to rebuild my life and mindset, starting with the people in my life I value. Down the road to a Christian university where I strongly wanted to grow and learn my faith. At the time, I decided to end my dream of soccer and pursue my studies in medicine. Little did I know I was going to get a call from the head coach asking to play soccer. Along the way, I met incredible people that I can now call my closest friends. I studied nursing as it was a passion for me to pursue in honor of my mother, only to grasp my own truth. I was living in the shoes of my mother’s request instead of living for myself. I was so eager to prove to my parents that I could handle anything; taking 18 credits, playing soccer, and working. I burned myself out the first year and a half when my mental health was depleted. No one ever knows when something is going to be the last time. Well for me, the last thing was my soccer career. Sadly, it ended in a tragic way from blowing out my leg and hip during practice, then needing reconstructive surgery. I lost my appetite for months, I had to teach my body ways to get around without walking. With so much time on my hands not planning soccer anymore, I started to pull all-nighters 3x a week. My social awareness was lacking and I started to isolate myself. I questioned my faith and asked God “why is this happening”? Soon after, my mom was taken to the hospital where she lived for 3 months, waiting for a new heart transplant with 5% heart function left. I thought the world was crashing right in front of me with all the problems circling my life. My grandmother on my paternal side was also diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. I didn’t know how to cope and I buried my emotions inside and continued on with my studies, until one day I exploded. I didn’t want to live, every breath was a battle, getting out of bed was a struggle, going to class was difficult. I was stuck in that mindset for 2 months until I decided to go home. I took medical leave from the university and flew back to Texas where my father, grandmother, and sister were. Financially, the best decision at the time was to live with my sister. One of the biggest lessons I learned while living with her was finding my own identity and confidence. She has taught me everything I need to know about what not to do and, instead of looking at that as a negative, I learned that it was a lesson to see. I recognized that I was still hurting even after I moved to Texas and had a support system. No one could save me except for myself. With that in mind, I took it upon myself to distance myself from my family, to be alone and learn to become independent. It was one of the hardest yet rewarding challenges I achieved. From moving back to San Diego with no money or car, I started from the bottom. I still had my lease in Texas for 4 more months and I knew I had to get a job right away if I wanted to support myself financially. There were days I sacrificed food just to pay for rent. I was living from paycheck to paycheck and taking the trolley and bus just to survive and get to work. It has now been six months since I was on my own and I never felt so free and strong. Being alone and struggling made me realize that everyone else is also struggling and dealing with their own pain. Knowing that now, I am able to deepen my connections with people and emphasize with strangers. For years I thought no one understood me, but it was myself that didn’t understand who I was. Now, in present day, my mother got a new heart transplant, my hip is healing, my grandmother is in hospice, I am going back to school to become a paramedic and I financially have options.