I was adopted from Kazakhstan at 18 months old. Unlike the kids there, i had light blond hair and white skin. I know nothing of my biological parents so i’ll sum up my adoptive. My father, Robert, was from North Dakota. His parents were German, hence our last name. my mother, Vickie, was is a small woman- most people think she’s where i get my looks from. Then again- that can't be true. My mother was born into a Polish family.

Even in infancy I was a bit of a hassle. The first time my parents came to see me in the orphanage I made eye contact with them, got up and walked out the door. some toddler I was. Little did i know i’d do a lot of walking away in my life. I never really was an verbal fighter. I’d later learn i’ll handle things physically. In my teen years most of my stories end with “and then i fought him.” a bit predictable once you hear most of my stories.

I don’t know who this will shape me to be. I can’t quite say what i would do in a difficult situation. I Know i’d have insightful information, skills, resilience, and optimism. But, im only 16.

With my brother 2 years older than me it was always a competition to do something the other couldn't. It was always a debate who was handsome, faster, smarter, more clever. We were both trouble makers though. That’s a fact. I Idolized my brother in my younger years. Being the only other sibling he had i had less competition.

As i entered my teen years, and some years before that, my life changed. The prior years i had wanted to be more “grown up” but i didn't have the courage to do this. I was 13 and full of stupidity. I began some of my hardest years and habits. I started drinking, smoking, and becoming a felon.

Fighting was a deal for me. I have alway had a problem with things i can't hit. I never was the best fighter when i was younger. Of course, i didn't fight as much. My brother and i had our fights but he always won. In my teen years this changed. Fed up of being picked on the next time a bully came my way and swung i dogged it and hit back. He screamed and i was victorious.

Out of school, on the streets was what i did some days. In all honesty i prefer being in school. I always thought i could get into more trouble, do more things. It was hard being in trouble all the time. But i guess that was another excuse to do more “i’m stressed” is what i’d say when asked why.    

I was never more than a few actions away from jail or juvenile hall. I was failing, hatful, and dumb. Something needed to change in my life. Something had to give.

It began over a small argument with my mother. I haven't the slightest clue what about. But, i cursed, yelled and walked out the house. With no idea where to go i headed to my friends house. It was a predictable move and that's how my parents found me. It was 9 at night. Most folks were headed to bed.

My dad arrived and i was reluctant to go. Pissed off and stubborn i chose the hard way. I fought back, I yelled, i did everything i shouldn't have. I can’t pinpoint a particular reason i was sent to Utha for a boarding school. All i know is it was my defiance. It was my anger.

December 3rd, 2016. That’s the day it all changed. The day I was on a plane bound for Utah. Seldom did i know that i was going to be there for 20 months. Yes, many people have it worse than me. But That changed me. Molded me. It made me who i am today. It made me a better person. I was a one boy insurgency. A one man army. Today i can be better. Now, i know im like that sometimes.and i love that about myself. I'm just happy it’s not my predominant nature.