It seems that everywhere I look and everything I hear, the concerns about mental health and the toll it is taking on our country, especially on our youth, are overwhelming.
Life is not easy, and everyone has problems, some more than others. I am one of those people. Growing up in circumstances that were out of my control certainly affected my mental well-being and shaped who I was and who I would become.
On the outside, I’m sure my life looks wonderful, and it is, but it wasn’t always that way. Not even remotely. I almost feel guilty because I was one of the lucky ones to escape the total chaos I grew up in. The odds were against me, but somehow, I was able to preserve and come out the other side.
To be honest, going through the things I went through growing up, makes you stronger or things can get worse because a person can’t take much before they feel helpless. At that point, that’s when it would have been easy for me to start making the wrong decisions.
I have had to fight those feelings, even as an adult. As a child and even as a teenager, it was difficult growing up without structure in my life. By the grace of God, I never turned to drugs or alcohol and was able to stay out of trouble, although there were many temptations.
Throughout my adult life, there were times when I felt alone. There were times when I just wanted to get in my car, start driving, and never look back. I’ve always felt like I was running from my past. It seemed like my mental well-being was always being tested, and it was a matter of time before I exploded or did something I regretted.
At times, it seemed like I was right on the edge, but something, I’m not sure what, always kept me from taking the leap. I feel very lucky in hindsight, but I know other people aren’t so lucky.
I empathize with people with mental health problems and understand their importance. We need to do more, which is why I choose to speak. Exposing myself and telling my story is not easy and it brings back memories that I would rather forget.
Hopefully my story will help someone else. Even if I only get home with one person, I will feel like I did something meaningful.
Life as I knew it changed when I was a teenager
My 15-year-old self couldn’t understand what was happening to me at the time. Why was I here? What did I do to deserve to be at the Fayette County Children’s Home?
That was a long time ago (1979), but when something like that happens to you, it stays with you.
Always.
As the children’s service workers led me down the long tree-lined driveway, I had no idea how much my life was going to change. As the truck inched down the road, before I knew it, three scary-looking brick buildings appeared. The main building was in the middle, and as I would soon find out, the left building was on the boys’ side and the girls’ building was on the right.
After going over the rules and what was expected, I was escorted to the boys’ dorm. Downstairs was the kitchen area, and upstairs is where he slept. It was a large room with a bunch of cots, there seemed to be about 30 of them, but there were only about five kids at the time.
Once the caseworkers left, an older woman appeared, who was gruff to say the least, and immediately let me know what my duties would be and what time breakfast and dinner would be served. She told me that if I was even a minute late, she would throw away my plate of food and I wouldn’t be able to eat.
That first night was the worst. I cried myself to sleep, and there would be many more nights like that. It was horrible. I felt alone and helpless. There is no worse feeling than that.
I didn’t realize it then, but my mental well-being was being put to the test. The emotional impact it had on me would affect me for the rest of my life, just as it has on thousands if not millions of other children.
Back to where it all started
My first memories as a child were around 3 or 4 years old. It seemed like we had a wonderful family. He had a mom and dad, an older brother and sister, and a younger sister. We were all close in age.
My parents would eventually divorce a few years later, and from there, although I didn’t know it at the time, my life was on the verge of forging a path of constant change and chaos.
Both of my parents were alcoholics. They were selfish and put themselves first before their children.
Once my dad moved out of the house, things went from bad to worse.
I attended New Holland Elementary School in first grade, and what came next shouldn’t happen to any child. When I graduated, I would go to eight more different schools, and I can remember all of them, and some of them, I wasn’t there very long.
After first grade, he would attend five other different elementary schools before reaching high school. I attended Washington Court House High School for grades 6-8. I finally felt some sense of belonging.
I moved to Washington High School for my freshman year. That year I played football, basketball, and baseball, and everything seemed to be going well. But it was not like that. My home life was in shambles. We were poor and sometimes we didn’t have much food to eat. I saw how well other children dressed and how supportive their parents were. I had no structure in my life. I had no support system.
That was my life, I didn’t know anything different. Looking back, I felt lost and envious of what other children in the neighborhood seemed to have. We lived in an apartment that was in an alley. I wore dirty clothes to school, and when you’re in high school, that’s not a good feeling.
I guess I never had a sense of belonging, and it was something I longed for every day. It makes me sad just thinking about it. I felt vulnerable and lacked confidence.
When I was 13, I found out who I thought my father was, he wasn’t really my biological father, and to this day, I still don’t know who my real father is. It was horrible when and how I found out, which made me feel even more alone.
As a sophomore, I had just finished playing my football season, when child services came to our house to inform my mother that they were taking me and my sister away from her. Someone had given her away for being an unfit mother. And so, they were taken to the Children’s Home.
My sister wasn’t there long. A foster family took her in. I stayed in the Children’s Home until the day I graduated from high school on May 29, 1981. At that time, there were so few children that we all moved into the main building.
The only thing that kept me going during my time was that they allowed me to continue playing sports. I thank God every day for that because he gave me a sense of belonging and discipline, and just being on a team and having coaches who seemed to care was huge for me.
When I left the Children’s Home for the last time at age 18, I had no idea what I was going to do or where I was going to live. I moved in with my mom and had a series of low-paying jobs. He didn’t even have a car, let alone a driver’s license.
I eventually moved to Mount Vernon with a family friend in early 1982. I was married at 20 and divorced at 25. I had no idea what marriage meant. I got married again at the age of 30 and once again I was too immature to understand what true love was.
I never felt love growing up. Looking back, I think all he was looking for was a family to call his own. When you grow up like that, you feel like an outsider. You feel like people judge you differently, so I understand how mental health and wellness is so prevalent in our society today.
Trying to overcome all those challenges has not been easy for me, so I feel sorry for others who have been in the same circumstances and for those who have had it worse than me. It’s hard for people to understand what it’s really like.
finding my way
It seemed like I was always looking for something or someone to give me a chance. After working various jobs in my 20s, I eventually worked in the mailroom at the Mount Vernon News. He dreamed of being a sports journalist or a coach, but it seemed like a pipe dream.
My life seemed to be stuck in neutral when someone gave me a chance. Mount Vernon News sports editor Joe Wasiluk was that person. He changed my life forever and I will always be indebted to him.
He asked me if I wanted to be a correspondent and cover high school games, and of course I said yes, even though I’d never covered a game, let alone write on a computer. I remember it like it was yesterday. The first story I ever wrote was about a football game between Danville and Loudonville. When I came back from the game, I was so lacking in confidence that I wrote the game on a piece of paper instead of the computer. I was very nervous, but Joe was patient and kind and taught me a lot about sports writing.
Little did he know it was the start of a 30-year career. It just took someone to believe in me and offer me an opportunity. If Joe hadn’t done that, who knows how my life would have turned out.
I know that I take nothing for granted and I am very grateful for the things in my life.
I often think of that 15-year-old boy in the Children’s Home and I feel like no one cared and I didn’t have much hope. He was scared. Scared of what life was going to bring me and wondering how things would turn out for me.
As I have grown up, I always try to treat people the way I would like to be treated and never judge. I see that in people every day. Maybe if people were a lot nicer, our world would be a better place, because no matter how you perceive someone, they always have a story.
For those of you who are going through tough times and feel like no one cares, I know it’s not easy, but I challenge you to keep fighting and keep going even when the odds are stacked against you.
The same goes for teachers, coaches, and even bosses because you never know when you might make a difference in someone’s life. Simply being more attentive to people’s needs can go a long way.
If you feel like you need help, or just need someone to talk to, never be afraid or embarrassed to seek help. Regardless of whether you feel helpless, alone or depressed, there is always hope.
I lived through the turmoil and chaos and somehow made it out the other side, thanks to someone else’s kindness.
Years after leaving the Children’s Home, I saw where those three buildings were torn down, and for me, it will always be a reminder of where I came from, but I didn’t let that define me.
I kept going, hoping that one day something positive would happen in my life, and it finally did. I never take it for granted. Ever.
Every morning when I wake up and put my feet on the ground, I thank God for giving me another day.
If you need help
There are many resources available at places like mentalhealth.gov/talk – the best thing you can do is talk to someone. Mental health includes our emotional, psychological and social well-being. It affects the way we think, feel and act. It also helps determine how we handle stress, relate to others, and make decisions. Mental health is important at all stages of life, from childhood and adolescence to adulthood.
Tom Wilson is a sports reporter for the Lancaster Eagle Gazette. Contact him at 740-689-5150 or via email at [email protected] for story feedback or suggestions. Follow him on Twitter @twil2323.
