When I was 4 years old, I was kidnapped.

Tragic story. Except I’m alive today. And stronger because of it.

It happened in broad daylight. In Houston, Texas. In 1975. I was with my 13 year old babysitter, Vicky.

Everyday after school Vicky came to my preschool. We’d walk to my house from there. Through the quiet Houston neighborhood.

One day a man in a sedan pulled up to ask us for directions. Then he asked Vicky for a pencil so he could write down the directions. She handed him a pencil. He twisted her arm and instructed us to get in the car. Bastard.

He looked normal. But his tone was forceful. This made him scary. Bastard.

He ordered Vicky to “tell the little girl in the backseat to lay down”. I heard him. But he wouldn’t talk to me. Bastard.

He didn’t touch me. But he did violate Vicky. I heard her cries for help from the front seat. He was a sick man. Bastard.

He told Vicky that if she didn’t stop crying he would “kill the little girl in the backseat”. Bastard.

He kept us for many hours. He told us not to tell anyone. He dropped us off. He had to get home to his own family.  Bastard.

He broke Vicky. Her spirit. Her innocence. Her childhood. All gone. Bastard.

He put me, a 4 year old child, in a position to testify in a courtroom. My parents weren’t allowed to be with me. I was alone. Bastard.

He was caught. He was locked up. Eventually he was released from prison (while I was in college). Bastard.

A man kidnapped me. He put fear into my life at a precious young age. Bastard.

This event forever changed me. It changed my outlook on life. This event made me believe that nothing bad (like really bad) could ever happen to me again. So if you ever experience me finding the upside in a negative situation, this is why. It was him. The bastard.

My mom, my dad and my brother had to see me go through this. Without them I would have been broken too. The real courage came from them and the rest of my family. They saved me.

Luckily, at the time, I was too young to know how this would impact my life.

And it did. Forever. And significantly.

This is a shortened version of my story. There is so much more: The memories are so clear. The feelings are so fresh. Even as a 4 year old, I vividly remember holding my artwork as I laid down on the back seat and wishing nothing more than to show my mom what I did that day in school.

I don’t have to work today however my iHome alarm clock didn’t get the message. Bastard. It has a great alarm feature which sets an alarm 5 consecutive days for those of us who work the traditional M-F work week.

On the upside, I got 6 hours of solid sleep and feel pretty good. Plus I had some time to review my blog stats.

Then it hit me. I can be so stinking insensitive. Someone did a google search for “I was kidnapped” and my recent blog post is listed on the first page. Sadly it refers to a true story, I really was kidnapped at the age of 4. However my blog post makes light of the situation.

There was a person out there wanting to understand how others coped with being kidnapped and share their experiences over the world wide web. I made a joke that I was a failure as a kid since I was returned after a several hours in my kidnapping saga.

Basically my iHome alarm clock’s evil trick to wake me up on a non-workday was payback for crushing someone’s support group search. Karma is a bitch. Today I’m her insensitive follower.

We’ve all seen the lists where you share 25 things about yourself and send it to all your friends. Sure, I got it too. I thought about doing it.  Then I realized there was NO WAY I could come up with 25 interesting things.  But I couldn’t get these out of my head:

1. I was pre-med in college.  Clearly I didn’t attend medical school.
2. I was kidnapped at the age of 4.  Clearly I was returned.
3. I lived in Spain briefly. I’m monolingual.

Yeah, you’re seeing it right.  Only three things. And the actual items listed make me feel more pathetic than just having only three.  

Here’s why.

I gave up on taking the MCAT and applying to and attending medical school.  Yeah, I took the easier route towards the end of college.  No complaints really since I have a great career now.  But nonetheless I quit.

I was snatched as a kid.  And returned.  The same day. What does that say about me as a kid?

I lived in Spain to learn the language during a college break.  I quickly hooked up with European students (the Swedish and Germans were my favorite) who were learning Spanish as their 5th and 6th languages. Guess who never had to learn Spanish to survive in that country?  Yeah, me.

If you wonder why I didn’t return my list to you…you know now.  I’m not just being lazy!