A story Never Told Growing up I didn’t have it easy, nor did I have it hard. My mother was a hard working woman working two jobs, to support four children. We grew up in the city of Harrisburg. I went through someone thing very tragically. I was sexually assaulted by a friend of the family. It hurt me so bad to the point I didn’t trust any men that came around me. I would hate to go outside by myself. I was scared to walk to the store alone. When my mom asked me to run to the store for her, I would start crying because I didn’t want to go. So I would do anything to get in trouble verse telling her I didn’t want to go. As I got older and more mature and started understanding life it didn’t make it any easier. I was too scared to tell anyone what …show more content…
So, I looked at it is his work against mine. I started to hate myself. I started to think of ways to hurt myself. My mindset was set on not wanting to live anymore because of it. Being that my mother had to work all the time, he was our baby sitter an I was too scared to tell her what he was doing to me. He continued to hurt me for two years until I finally refused to go back over there. I begged and pleaded to go to work with my mother. She asked her boss and he let me come sit there. While I sat there I just thought of ways, that I could be able to go with her every day. At this time she was working retail at this store called five and ten. I started walking around the store straightening things up. Fixing stuff, and pulling merchandise to the front of the aisles. I even asked her boss if he needed me to do anything to help. I did so well that day he told my mom to bring me with her whenever and also played me my first forty dollars. Then one day when I was turning fifteen my mom friend asked if he could come get me to take me somewhere for my birthday. I said no but she didn’t know and said yes. So John Doe came to the house to get me, but I decided to run away so they couldn’t find me. I ran to a
How would you feel if you had family problems? In 1987, Sandra Cisneros released a novel called My Wicked, Wicked Ways. In the book, she has a poem also named “My Wicked, Wicked Ways.” The poem about the narrator looking at an old picture. The narrator then has flashbacks about his family. The narrator mentions what the father did, and how the mother reacted to the father’s actions. During the flashback, it is revealed that the father is cheating on his wife. The mother, gets mad at the father, but the father doesn’t stop. The mother ends up getting used to the father’s infidelity, and just lets it happen for the next few years. At the end of the flashback, the narrator speaks in a disappointed, but smug, tone about how he was the baby being held by the mother in the picture. After drawing out the connotations and the shifts of the poem, I can say the theme of this poem is “In society,
Growing up, life wasn't easy. As a result of these adversities, I've been able to not only see, but personally experience, having a constant battle in my life. Throughout this journey of life, I’ve had the opportunity to meet people and learn about different backgrounds and hardships many others suffer from. These experiences,
It was the day of April 13, 2000. I woke up at exactly 12 o’clock because my boyfriend was to pick me up at 1 like we planned the night before. The day looked quite nice, but I was in a fowl mood. I got into a car accident the night before and had a huge argument with my parents about the car. I finally dragged myself into the shower and got ready in half an hour. Then I went downstairs, sat on my couch, and repeatedly told myself the day would hopefully turn out better than last night. At around 1:15, my boyfriend came to pick me up. We took the 5 freeway to the 57 since it was the only way I knew how to get there. As we approached the 134 freeway, my girlfriend veered to the right, taking the 210 which was wrong way and got us lost. So, we exited the freeway and got back on the right track. Then finally, before long, we reached Norton Simon.
Social identity, a powerful driving force in human beings, develops early in life and strengthens throughout adulthood based on chosen roles. In the short story “You, Disappearing” by Alexandra Kleeman, the main character struggles to understand her former boyfriend’s need to maintain his social identity while struggling to find hers in a new reality. As things start to disappear in the apocalypse, her former boyfriend chooses the consistency and predictability of maintaining his position as an architect. However, she regresses and has become depressed trying to live her life without structure. This conflict within the main character seems to distract her from making a plan for when the end arrives. By giving the main character a real human emotion to a disaster scenario, can this help relate the story to readers on a personal level?
The grass was wet and cold. I woke up and Mother was at her new job working for the Barclays Bank and I walked out of my room which was red walls with white carpet. I went down the stairs and walked outside and the grass was wet it had rained that night and I didn’t notice I must've slept through it. It was 10 degrees outside and it made the grass cold and wet. I enjoyed this very much. I laid down and watched the sunset fade away and I felt good laying in the grass. I eventually had to get up and Mother came home for lunch and I had a strawberry milkshake and two clementines. I noticed that Mother was not talking very much and then I saw tears form in her eyes.
My mother was a very well-tempered woman, who kept to herself. Like Suzette, I didn’t know much about my mother’s background, or a lot of the pain and hardship she went through until I was older. This is when I realized why my mother conducted herself the way she did, because of all the pain she had built up inside of her from her past. For example; it was very hard to get my mother to talk during emotional situations, she was always quiet and would just mostly stare at you in silence. My mother was born in Philadelphia on October 3rd, 1966. Diane was the oldest of her four siblings, and if it’s as common as I think older siblings tend to have it harder than the others because they have to set examples, their looked up to as the protectors, and are just assigned a lot of responsibility at a young age.
Some may ask why life is hard. Life is an amazing thing, and we shouldn’t take the greatness of it for granted. Today you are going to hear a story about a young teenagers life that has been hiding stuff for his family. This young boy in the story makes it through the struggle he is going through. This is something we all have to do, keep our heads up and keep going no matter what.
How does a fifteen year old in high school come to the terms of being betrayed and abandoned by their father and left to become homeless. Although this experience was very painful and it did affect me I had to work through the anger and the hurt. In addition to that I was able to recover from that experience because I am a true believer that you’re learning experiences will help mold you into a better person and what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. We went from pillar to post, family member to family member until we found our self in a vicious circle. By the grace of God, the lord start giving my mom jobs to help with our financial stability which wasn’t much but it kept our heads above water. The last aspect of my identity that stood out to me was my family background. My mother raising was different from her all of her siblings. My mother raised us strict, militant, and very respectful and obedient. She believed that education came first no matter what other gifts you had. When you look at my intermediate family versus my extended family there is a huge difference. Still to this present day my mother siblings puts my mother
My mom’s life as a kid wasn’t too easy. She was born in New Jersey and ever since she was five years old, she knew that she wanted to be a doctor. Her dad, Harvey, was a doctor and her mom, Elaine, worked in a pathology lab all throughout her life. My mother’s parents got divorced when she was very little. Her “normal” was very different from most kids’ “normals” her age. She had a hard life at home when she was a little girl, with her dad pushing her to play the piano when her passion was really dance, along with medicine. She has a younger brother, Peter, who was a bit of a troublemaker when they were young. She also h...
Have you ever had a time in your life where you felt like everything was just dumped on you? I did, and undoubtedly it happened just as I came to school at State University. That saying, “When it rains, it pours,” just seemed to fit me perfectly. Within a two week period one of my friends from high school committed suicide, my grandma went in the hospital, and my boyfriend broke up with me. Yet, from these experiences in my life, I grew, more than I have ever grown before. This is why I am writing about it. Although, everyone goes through hard times, there were not many people out there who related to me. That is why it was hard to get help when it was needed. Maybe someone can learn from my experience and be just as strong as I was.
There was no lawn, but there were four flower planters. The house was painted all white, with the exception of the front door that was painted light green. My grandfather was still young, strong, and full of life, he always had time to play with his grandchildren. Every Sunday he would take us to the park, would buy us ice cream, and take us to Sunday mass. On the day when this picture was taken, we were celebrating my 10th birthday, and I was dancing with my grandfather. I cannot remember the song, but I do remember what he told me while dancing slowly. He said “My little girl” how he used to call me,” in five years you won’t be a little girl, you will become a young lady.” At that moment I could not understand what he meant, but in my mind I was saying “grandpa I will always be your little girl.” While dancing, he made me a promise, “My little girl on your 15th birthday, I will dance the first song with you.” Who would know that he was going to die on my 15th birthday year, he passed away on June 21th, 1987 on Father’s Day. He left me with so many beautiful memories, but the most important was my first dance on my 10th birthday. On the night before my 15th birthday, I went to bed around 10 p.m. I was feeling depressed, because I was only thinking of the promise that my grandfather had made in the past. A promise that in my mind was not going to
One day in the midst of summer, my friend Mike and I got off from a hard day of work and were on our way to the mall. While at work we had planned to meet a few people there. I was going to be seeing my friend Jessica who I had not talked to in years. Before leaving, we stopped off at our houses, took showers, and got ready. As I anxiously waited on the stairs for his car to roll into the driveway, my mom said, “Be careful and do not drive like an idiot.” I obviously said alright and she was on her way. Minutes later I see my friend Mike pull into the driveway. I slipped my feet into my shoes and got in his car. We were almost to the mall when his phone rang. He picked it up and said, “Hello?” It was my mom and she wanted to speak to me. Upon putting the phone to my ear she told me that I had to come home right away. She said that my dad had just gotten into a car crash and that I had to come home and watch my sister. I did not know how to break the news to Mike, that what we were anticipating all day would not happen. He was upset, but he understood what was going on. I came home thinking it was the same old same old; he had gotten hit by a drunk driver, the car got totaled, and he was fine.
While in school, Mom didn’t have it easy. Not only did she raise a daughter and take care of a husband, she had to deal with numerous setbacks. These included such things as my father suffering a heart attack and going on to have a triple by-pass, she herself went through an emergency surgery, which sat her a semester behind, and her father also suffered a heart attack. Mom not only dealt with these setbacks, but she had the everyday task of things like cooking dinner, cleaning the house and raising a family. I don’t know how she managed it all, but somehow she did.
I grow up in the Dominican Republic, and immigrated to the United States at the age of 12 to live with my parental family. I went through a lot of bad experiences that make think what I could study in college. All the time I used to tell myself that I’m going to make sure that other kids will not go through what I went. All my experiences also helped me to be independent. All my struggles; weeks without sleep, being neglected from my own family made me a stronger person. I remember on my junior year of high school I started to get sick and my father didn’t care; the only thing that he cared about was if I cooked, wash clothes and does everything in the house. Having so much pressure at such a young age was making me sick. I remember when I used to go to the doctor I used to lied to them because I didn’t want to get my father in trouble, I just kept everything to myself. At the age of 16 ½ I didn’t want to continue getting yelled if I didn’t wash my others brothers and sisters clothes or cook for them. I started to sleep at friends house until I moved into college. My father didn’t care where I was, or if I was sleeping at the street. He never called the police because he knew the state would have started investigating why I didn’t want to be at my house. This are some of the reason why I want to work as a social worker, I feel that I will be able to help kids that are going or went through a hard
It was December 4, 2014 and it was snowing outside. I was sitting at the kitchen table doing homework. All my family was downstairs, so I was all alone. My English teacher told us to write a paper about how I am different from my classmates. I was thinking about what in my life makes me different and slowly my whole life was playing like a movie in my head. The first memory that popped into my head was my fourth birthday party. It was supposed to be the best birthday ever. My dad was going to come. It was February 24, 2002 at my birthday party. There were so many people there, but I was so focused on my dad coming, no one else seemed to matter. My cake was pink and yellow with a bicycle on it. I had a red and blue inflatable that kids were