Goodbye. That was the last word that slithered out of my mouth before boarding that plane with my parents. It was that one word that made me burst into tears and grasp onto my mom’s warm hand. I was leaving everything behind, and I meant everything. My mind tried to keep telling myself it was going to be okay, but from the tiniest part in the back of my head, it whispered no, it wasn’t. It was so goddamn hard to leave something that you knew was important and start a new life somewhere else without even knowing what it was. The ride, the arrival, it was just a blur in my head. Each step I took seemed to echo in my ears, straight into my mind. Every movement I made had my heart plunging down the depths of my very own soul. It was killing me each second I opened my eyes to see a new place, when I could be very much in my old house, breathing the scent that I smelled with a grin plastered on my face. When my parents first broke the news, I pretended to not care and shrugged like it was normal business. Truthfully, I was lost inside myself. Honestly, I was broken inside, and my heart was shattered. It hurt. I didn’t want to leave, but each time they grinned like happy children, my mouth just went plain dry. They were to oblivious to see I was in pain, that my intention was to never leave the only place I had actually enjoyed. Times like this, I wish I could be a time-controller. Change the past, and watch everything become the way I wanted it to be. But life was a bitch, and that’s how it rolled. When we got our new “house”, I was a complete stranger. Everywhere I looked, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t that fresh smell of chipped paint or the beige color on the walls that seemed to radiance in the sunlight. It just wasn’t home. Th... ... middle of paper ... ...o in my ears, and I just broke down. It was painful, really, really painful, and the worst part about it was, I couldn't do anything about it. Their words made me flinch, their glaring eyes made me shudder, and their actions made me crumble to the ground. Everything hurt, even the little words that I had to put up with. Sometimes they just ignored me, but some days were the worst. Each night I prayed to God that just someday, my sadness could be replaced with something happier and beautiful. And it did. Over the next years, I gained strength and courage, and made new friends who accepted me for who I was. The taunting and insults stopped, and I wasn't that weak 8-year old boy who stood behind his shadow. I picked myself up, swept off the pain, and started a new beginning. Because that was then and this is now. So look at me, and all you’ll see is one happy boy.
The first four weeks of CR510 have prompted this student to reflect on her years of teaching in the public school setting. Having experienced many similar complexities to the ones in the text, this student is sympathetic to the challenges facing those in the education system and is eager to find opportunities to offer a better solution for all involved. CR510 has strengthened this student's belief that a third party neutral can provide valuable benefits to educational systems at all levels.
She picked a seat in the way back, away from all the people. She silently stared out the window making a quiet list inside her head of all the things she had forgotten and all the people she remembered. Tears silently slid down her face as she remembered her aunt crying and cousins afraid of the dark in their house. She couldn’t do it anymore. It was the best for everyone she thought. Deep down though she knew how hard it would be for everyone to find out she was leaving. From her family’s tears, to the lady in the grocery store who was always so kind and remembered her name. She also knew how
My mind started to wonder though each room of the house, the kitchen where mom used to spend every waking hour in. The music room where dad maintained the instrument so carefully like one day people would come and play them, but that day never came, the house was always painfully empty. The house never quite lived to be the house my parents wanted, dust bunnies always danced across the floor, shelves were always slightly crooked even when you fixed them. My parents were from high class families that always had some party to host. Their children were disappointments, for we
When things go downhill in your life, you tend to only focus on what you’re going through and completely ignore the fact that many others could be going through the same exact thing. It’s not easy to accept that other people are feeling the same pain as you. Something goes wrong, it’s like the end of the world for you. That was me at the age of 9.
After understanding, and coping the problem a person can deal with their problem at hand by perhaps writing it down or writing about who hurt them, according to Melanie Tonia Evans, “this is self-recognition that will assist you in healing and reclaiming your right to perfect love, success and happiness.” A person can feel as if they were abandoned, unwanted, unloved, or forgotten. The most important thing though, is to stay positive about themselves at all costs. When a person loves themselves and is happy with their life it can make everything much easier and healing can begin. “Once you have validated and learned what you can from the experience, you can let it go and move forward. This won’t happen all at once. Those imprints are still there, and they need to be replaced with healthy, positive ones,” (Dania Vanessa.) The dysfunctional experiences that a person has from their childhood can pose as a learning experience that shaped someone into who they are now, from the hardships they
Within a week of finding out my dad was gone forever, me along with my eight brothers and sisters, my recently widowed ( and pregnant ) mom, and a handful of personal items left the comfort of our small Charleston, home and were packed up in a van and shipped off to Memphis, Tennessee to start a new life. The wound of my father's death was still so raw that I refused to accept that the strange city of Memphis was my new home, and that somehow my father was alive and well, and all we needed to do was go back to Charleston and be with him. And as days in Memphis turned to weeks ,and then months, the realization and acceptance of my new life set in, and I began to embrace Memphis as my new home. as the years passed I made
And while the details of the arguments that caused these altercations are lost to me now, all I can remember is the distrust and rejection that ravished my identity the moment their bodies made physical contact with mine. Living a life that was constructed by them and for them, I was utterly lost when the feelings of trust and acceptance died. I had committed myself to taking part in extracurricular clubs that stepped up my involvement and got me closer to getting ahead, and I had achieved a status that was somewhat unmatchable for others in regard to my popularity because of my success, but all of this seemed pointless because of the confusion that my parents
For me, it was very hard having my parents divorce, but I think it helped me become the person I am today. Even though I know that it was better for my parents to no longer be together, it still hurt me. I am not very close with my mother and that is why I partially blame my parents divorce on her. Me not being close to her affects me everyday. As a result of my parents divorcing, it has caused me a lot of emotional trauma for the past four years.
I had no place to call home. My mom had not come to visit me one time, and I had only received a hand full of letters from her. She told me in those letters that she was sick, and I couldn’t live with her (She died of cancer a little over a year after my release). My twenty-three-year-old brother was a drug addict, so I didn’t want to live with him. With no place to live, I would end up in a state halfway house or some other type of group home. For someone who was about to turn sixteen, this was a lot to deal with. The last two hours of my bus ride, which were supposed to be the happiest part of the trip, turned into the worst. The tension in my heart was almost unbearable now. It felt like someone had reached into my chest and was clinching my heart in an angry fist. My eyes teared up from the
Our house was being foreclosed on, the only home I had ever known. It was the house I grew up in; and it was going to be gone in the blink of an eye. It doesn't seem like that big of a deal, no one was dying and it is, after all, just a house, but for a 15-year-old girl who had never known anything else, it was huge.
As we pulled out of my parents driveway, the circumstances seemed very surreal. My entire way of life had been turned upside down with only a few hours consideration. I was very much “at sea” in the ...
Everything seems like it’s falling out of place, it’s going too fast, and my mind is out of control. I think these thoughts as I lay on my new bed, in my new room, in this new house, in this new city, wondering how I got to this place. “My life was fine,” I say to myself, “I didn’t want to go.” Thinking back I wonder how my father felt as he came home to the house in Stockton, knowing his wife and kids left to San Diego to live a new life. Every time that thought comes to my mind, it feels as if I’m carrying a ten ton boulder around my heart; weighing me down with guilt. The thought is blocked out as I close my eyes, picturing my old room; I see the light brown walls again and the vacation pictures of the Florida and camping trip stapled to them. I can see the photo of me on the ice rink with my friends and the desk that I built with my own hands. I see my bed; it still has my checkered blue and green blanket on it! Across from the room stands my bulky gray television with its back facing the black curtain covered closet. My emotions run deep, sadness rages through my body with a wave of regret. As I open my eyes I see this new place in San Diego, one large black covered bed and a small wooden nightstand that sits next to a similar closet like in my old room. When I was told we would be moving to San Diego, I was silenced from the decision.
see my mum crying, I filled up with worry but the thought of what had
It hurt talking about parents. I couldn't even do it with Grandma. I couldn't take it when those words came out of her mouth. Tears welled up in my eyes. She gave the microphone to one of the other girls all of them smiling at me.