Growing up with my mother in prison and an abusive drunk for a father; life wasn’t particularly what you would call “great.” At the age of six my step grand-father began to sexually abuse me every weekend when my step mom and my dad would drop me off at my grandparents house. The abuse continued until I reached the age of twelve; he’s now serving a twelve year sentence. As you would assume growing up with all these unfortunate events I was bound to have “issues” as my step mom, Julie, would say. Well, she was right. At the age of thirteen my parents took me to see a counselor they were worried I had become depressed and wanted me so badly for me to be “a normal kid.” I only went twice due to financial issues. My dad could never keep a job so there were times we went with no lights, …show more content…
“You’re pregnant so he needs to take care of you now” she said calmly, but her face looked at me as if she was disgusted I was in her presence. “So I can’t come?” I asked with a broken voice. “No.” she said. My family left that day and I had no place to go besides with my son’s father. February 16th 2012 Romeo Nava was born. He was perfect and I was instantly in love. I remember crying right after having him so much I worried the doctors. They repeatedly asked me if I was okay and if I was in any pain. I reassured them they were tears of joy and I was simply crying because I have never been that happy. Finally, someone who would love me unconditionally and never leave me. About six months after Romeo was born; his father and I began to have problems and became physically, emotionally, and mentally abusive. Reminding me no one loved me and that was why I was “alone.” I fell back into depression. One day when Romeo’s dad, Ivan, picked me up from school (now a junior) we got into a heated argument that ended with me having my head split open. I had never seen so much blood despite having a
“Tricky business, fathers and sons. In my case, a lot needed settling,” (7) acknowledges author Craig Lesley in his personal narrative Burning Fence: A Memoir of Fatherhood. This book delves into relationships between fathers and their sons. The introspective writer employs flash-forwards and flashbacks, effectively keeping the reader enrapt and drawing connections between the generations of Lesleys. Near the end of the book, the writer inserts effective concluding thoughts he holds towards his father. While the memoir displays an unhealthy view of unforgiveness, it portrays the importance of a father figure in a child’s life.
Father, computer server engineer, alcoholic, and felon. My dad, Jason Wayne DeHate, has influenced my life, not only genetically, but he has also improved my character and creativity throughout the years. Beginning at age two, I was cultured with profanity spit from rappers such as Eminem. While my mother was at work we had multiple videotaped “jam sessions” and coloring time that allowed for the foundation of friendship we have today. The jam sessions consisting of me mumbling and stumbling in front of the television, as he was “raising the roof” from his lazyboy. Since then, he has taught me how to rollerblade, change wiper blades, and play my favorite sport, tennis. Along with influencing my leisure activities and the music I enjoy, his prominent personality allows me to grow as a person. Being the only male figure in my immediate family, I
As I sent my beloved nurse off, seeking romeos commitment to the proposal, I began to contemplate whether his love for me was true resembling my love for him, or mere infatuation. Angela, I’m Afraid that he loves me for the wrong reasons. What if he doesn't want to spend the rest of his life with me?, What if he dismisses the proposal. As I awaited his answer, I became insane, wanting to know whether he loves me or not. I love him more than anything that stands on the very face of this planet. Without romeo’s presence in my life, I would not know what to do. I fear the actions of both families if this marriage is set forth. I pray to the lord that I can be with the man of my dreams yet be able to cope with the following repercussions. Angela, Please tell me what to do, I’m lost with doubt and fear. I apologize that the first letter in weeks was focused around my on going issues, however you're the only I know that can aid me in times as
Growing up, my father’s absence played a major factor in my stride for success. His absence was the scapegoat for why I always felt like I may not be good enough – or why I’d be looked at as an outcast. I’ve always made it my first priority to overcome his negligence by attempting to do my best in school – earning good grades, joining school clubs, giving back to the community. However, never did I receive the recognition I’ve always dreamed of and never was I satisfied with my outcome, but never did I think that I would find through the one who seized it all.
Growing up for me some would say it was rather difficult and in some ways I would agree. There have been a lot of rough times that I have been through. This has and will affect my life for the rest of my life. The leading up to adoption, adoption and after adoption are the reasons my life were difficult.
Now that I am in the counseling program I have become aware of the dysfunctional family that I have grew up in. Growing up I remember my father was never around. There is a memory I will never forget it seems blurry but I remember my parents arguing and becoming angry. I went into a room and when I came out I saw my father’s hand bleeding. My mother was holding a kitchen knife and she had cut his hand. Since my father was hardly around we never had family trips or family time together. He would spend his weekends drinking or going out with his friends. I have another memory that stands out. I remember I was in the back seat of the car and my mom was dropping of my dad somewhere. They were arguing the whole way over there, once we got to the destination my dad got off and walked out. I can imagine this affected my mother as a woman because her needs were not being
I was fourteen years old when my life suddenly took a turn for the worse and I felt that everything I worked so hard for unexpectedly vanished. I had to become an adult at the tender age of fourteen. My mother divorced my biological father when I was two years old, so I never had a father. A young child growing up without a father is tough. I often was confused and wondered why I had to bring my grandfather to the father/daughter dance. There was an occurrence of immoral behavior that happened in my household. These depraved occurrences were often neglected. The first incident was at the beach, then my little sisters’ birthday party, and all the other times were overlooked.
Seventeen years ago, I came bounding into a world of love and laughter. I was the first child, the first grandchild, the first niece, and the primary focus of my entire extended family. Although they were not married, my parents were young and energetic and had every good intention for their new baby girl. I grew up with opportunities for intellectual and spiritual growth, secure in the knowledge that I was loved, free from fear, and confident that my world was close to perfect. And I was the center of a world that had meaning only in terms of its effect on me-- what I could see from a height of three feet and what I could comprehend with the intellect and emotions of a child. This state of innocence persisted through my early teens, but changed dramatically in the spring of my sophomore year of high school. My beloved father was dying of AIDS.
Although I acknowledged the truth my mom had spoken to me when she came to visit, I hadn’t taken certain necessary steps that I needed to take. I remember one day sitting on my living room couch. Poet was sitting beside me. He was talking to the children. I turned my head and began to cry. I could no longer hold back the hurt, fears, disappointments, and anger. The family noticed after a few seconds that I was crying. Poet tried to talk to me but I didn’t respond. He called my mom this same night. I talked to my mom a little but I mainly just listened. The next day Bri had called me. Poet had contacted her and told her what was going on. She contacted me to tell me about a counselor she knew. I took
Renowned sociologist Emile Durkheim was once quoted as saying, “A person is not merely a single subject distinguished from all the others. It is especially a being to which is attributed a relative autonomy in relation to the environment with which it is most immediately in contact.” Society and its aspects play a role in developing the individual. I decided to perform an interview with my dad to analyze his life through the lens of sociology. After performing an interview (one of the sociological methods of inquiry) with my father, I was able to see contributions of structure, culture, and agency in his life. My dad is forty-nine years old years old and works at Stantec (an engineering firm based out of Canada with a branch in Lexington) as a human resources manager. In my interview, I decided to really focus on the topics of work, family, social class, and education to look for explanations of the factors that influenced his social mobility.
It had come to the attention of my family that I had some sort of psychological problem and something had to be done. I was always labeled as a shy and quiet kid, and like my family I had thought nothing more of my behavior. However, now it had become something more obvious. I had told my parents the kinds of problems I was having. Basically I didn't want to talk to anyone or to be anywhere near anyone I didn't know. I didn't really want to leave my house for any reason for fear that I might have to talk to someone. I was so critical and scrutinizing in relation to myself that I couldn't even enter into a conversation. Everyone seems to have a part of themselves that lends itself to thoughts of pessimism and failure, but mine was something that was in the forefront of my mind at all times. Something telling me that everything I did was a failure, and that anything I ever did would not succeed. Through discussion with my family it was decided that I should move out of my parents house to a place where I could find treatment and get a job. I was to reside with my sister Lisa, her partner Brynn, and their Saint Bernard in Greensboro.
When I moved with my dad for me it was I wouldn’t know how too explain it my way. It was bad but good at the same time but bad for me Not because it was a bad place but, the condition I was in for me it was bad. At this time I was sad because I just wanted to live with my mom at the time but, something had happened that was tragic. My dad is a good guy don’t get me wrong but, he would always get on to me for the simplest things and it would get me mad. This all started in September 2016 going into 2017. My mom and my dad decided to go to court for me and ofcourse I was nervous. Then next you know they were asking me where I wanted to stay. The judge said it was a temporary custody for 9 months whoever I chose. The
One person that I care for very deeply is my dad. He is The reasons he means so much to me is because he helps me whenever I need help, plays sports with me, and he is just like one of my friends.
Life had become a deserted island, leaving me alone on the beach with no one to provide the answers for me. At least, that was how the next year went on. The counselors at the jr. high recommended I see their specialist, which, seeing as I had nothing else to go with, I conceded. She was a pleasant woman. She listened to me when I was upset, asked me questions I did not always have answers to, but for the most part, she was a constant figure telling me I was okay. I almost believed her. I still sometimes believe I was okay, that she was right, that nothing was wrong with me. She recommended I seek therapy over the summer, but my parents seemed to think I was fine. Until I was not fine. Freshman year was the worst year of my life. Even now, looking back at it, I still feel the dull aches from my younger self's
I was seventeen, about to enter my senior year at Dryden High School when my whole world changed. My father, William passed away at the age of sixty-three. As a result of my father being an alcoholic, my mother wouldn’t allow him around any children until he got help. The first time I remember meeting my father was a warm summer day in August, it was my sixth birthday. My father, the United States Army veteran, still carried himself in his usual 1950’s Grease fashion, complete with his hair slicked back, a cigarette and leather jacket even after being diagnosed with emphysema and diabetes. Two weeks before he passed away, my father came to visit me, I sat on the blue sofa in my mother’s living room while he sat on the matching love seat across the room, and suddenly in the middle of the conversation he grew quiet. It was the scariest moment in my life when I witnessed my personal Superman, who had fought in the Vietnam War and overcame his own personal demons and addictions, have a heart attack. I remember sitting in his hospital room, he had gray and white wires attached to his chest and a breathing mask over his mouth and nose. Even at the age of sixty-three, he resembled a young John Travolta, strong and lively, but at that moment he looked