Stockholm’s Syndrome

I was born without any choices. I didn’t have choice in life, my parents, or even what hospital. I was a product claimed minutes after the 21^st day of January. Screaming, crying, and kicking for my life, I was dazed with the shock of life. Wrapped in a burrito with a blanket, I was kept sedated for months. Years went by and my captors grew steadily irritated to keep from being suspicious.

My captors were predictable and ensured I would not escape. They beat me, scolded me, ensured I knew I was incapable, and told me stories of the terrible world outside our doors and windows. I began to formulate my plan for escape. They carelessly left maps of the outside world: Marine Biology, Geography, Roman History, Cultural Anthropology, World History, and countless more books. Fools! My captors left me the tools and knowledge! I was able to plan my escape and finally have what I wanted since I was born: choice.

               Years went by and I played by the rules. All my reading caught their attention but they did not suspect my plans for escape. I needed money and I needed time to prepare my escape. My captors began to treat me as an expert in their areas of ignorance. They still believed me too weak to have courage of escape. Everything changed when my male captor decided that kidnapping wasn’t what he wanted anymore. He was gone.

               I was completely excited! This is unbelievable, they were weakening! However, my feelings changed when my female captor began to struggle to keep me alive. We began to eat less, talk less, and eventually we hardly saw each other. The female captor worked 16 hour days to continue to keep me captive. I couldn’t take this. All the preparation required a real challenge. I wanted to beat my captors at their best because I was more than they ever perceived me to be. I helped out my female captor; I wanted a real challenge. The lack of contacted forced me to cook for myself, buy my own clothing, and slowly become independent.

               The female captor began to deteriorate. She began to become blind, weak, diabetic, and fragile. Suddenly, I found myself forgetting about my plans for escape. My goals had changed towards medicine. My captors were careless with their health and none of my books had the knowledge to make my captor better. I continued to care for the female captor.

               A sensation suddenly hit me. With a warm and tingly sensation inside, I realized that I loved them. I loved their attention in all forms, even the violent ones. Their threats were concerns for my safety. I interpreted their comments of my stupidity as forms of encouragement. I dread the day when I will lose my final captor; I would lose a person I love, the purpose in my life, and I’ll lose my challenge.

               However, I discovered that I had I won a long time ago; I won the power of choice. I chose to read and chose to pursue my own goals despite any circumstance. I had everything I had always wanted but there were no heavenly feelings. It was a broken hallelujah.

I loved my captors and I wish I could go back to their confinement. I miss them. They made me into the strong and dedicated person I am today and a great, future doctor.