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Thought it might not hurt to bring this one to the current date.

I don't have children, so I'm the other side of the equation - an adoptee who desperately needed someone to talk to them about drugs, sex & alcohol. I began them in that order at age 15. Due to some circumstances, my a-family was SO alienated from one another at that time, except for mom and dad, they always stuck together. But younger sister and I weren't talking to each other or parents, and older brother had joined the army so he'd have a home when we moved to another state.

I was looking to get rid of feelings, which the chemicals did, and to feel love, acceptance, okay-ness, which the sex didn't.

I wouldn't wish my loss-of-virginity-day on anyone. Emotionally immature, skipping school and hanging out in a huge park in downtown Dallas. Some guy in his 20's approaches me, I don't remember how it was agreed upon, but next thing I know I'm on a mattress on the floor of some house. He did his thing and off we go back to the park. Within an hour, similar events, but I remember less. I didn't care at the time, or if I did I blocked it. The only way I can get in touch with any feelings are by imagining I'm the mother of that 15 year old - I think I'd want to castrate, kill, or both a couple of men.

My folks knew what was going on, not that day, but in general. I know they did - they were told about the drugs by the police and they must have known when I went to juvenile hall a couple of times, and I vaguely remember dad taking me to the ER once for a pregnancy test. I was so humiliated I could have killed him; and mad enough to choose riding in the police car to get there over riding with him.

I don't remember them talking to me. Possibly a token 'you shouldn't be doing that', but more likely a 'what on earth are we going to do with you?'

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