My all time low came when I was 11 years old.

On the day of my father's funeral, during the wake, my long-estranged mother sent a man into the house to kidnap me, and the only reason he wasn't successful was because the dumbass mistakenly said my name, at which point someone recognized him and all hell broke loose. It was a lot uglier than that summary implies. Guns were involved.

A week or so later, my stepmother and I were standing in the driveway. A plane flew overhead and we watched it. We were both depressed about the loss of my father (her husband). I asked her where she thought the people in that plane were going, and we talked about whether it was a better place than where we were. We imagined someplace warm, and happy. It was a really sad conversation.

A few hours later, she came to my bedroom to tell me the plane we watched had crashed.

In a weird way, it might have given me a hopeful outlook on life because even when things seemed their worst, I was still better off than the people on that plane - the plane I'd watched and wished we were on. Even at age 11, I was an introspective guy.

A few weeks later, a second kidnapping attempt was successful, so I spent the rest of my childhood living with some pretty awful people. But it worked out in the end...

At age 17, I lacked the courage to run away, but I learned about the Rotary Club foreign exchange student program. I lied my way into the program in more ways than I can count so I could be sent away... and I was. The year I spent abroad was an amazing experience I can't even begin to describe. Truly life changing. It was hard, but in a rewarding way, and beautiful in a soul enriching way.

After high school, I moved away, and never looked back. While my life hasn't been perfect, it's been pretty great. I rarely ever talk about my family and I never talk to them. There isn't much, if anything at all, to say. And that's ok.