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Relationship between parent and child
Relationship between parent and child
Positive self esteem psychology essay
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Day 36, Mother tried to stop me from eating again, but this time my dad and I had her tricked. As soon as mom went to sleep, dad came down and brought me three pieces of bread. As I eat the bread, I felt successful knowing that I beat mother, knowing that I have won one of the little games she liked to play. I’m sitting in the basement wondering what will happen if mother finds out what dad did and especially what will happen to me. Day 36, 5:30pm, I am woken by a loud bang and I hear dad and mother yelling, “WHY WOULD YOU GIVE THAT THING FOOD!” I hear my mom yell from the bedroom. She called me a thing not her son but a thing that word shot me in the chest hard. I AM NO LONGER HER SON! I try to go to sleep but I feel the shaking of the stairs
Because of some of the circumstances that make me who I am, it is hard to say I have any one definitive home. Instead, I have had two true homes, ever since I was a young child. What makes this even more of a conundrum is that my homes have always had little in common, even though they are only a few hundred miles apart. Between the big city of Houston, Texas, and the small town of Burns Flat, Oklahoma, I have grown up in two very different towns that relate to one another only in the sense that they have both raised me.
The book never really says who is giving Ed the ace of spades cards. I have two predictions. One prediction is his ma. She has always wanted Ed to do something with his life. Right now he is a 19 year old taxi driver which is illegal nonetheless. First Ed never listens to her. “I’ll just tell her that Dickhead Ed forgot to pick up my coffee table.”(Markus 28). He is never on time to any activity except poker nights with his friends. Ed also mostly helps woman in New York City. His ma can relate to how these woman feel. When one of the cards come in it has “The Stones of Home” as the address. Only Ed’s family called one building in picticular that name. The Stones of Home is a place Ed and his brother tommy went for refuge. The stones are a
Moving is lots of work took me 4 days to pack and 5 to get everything from one house to the new house in Firestone. It was an extremely sad day when we moved because we have lived in that house for 10 years and have had so many memories like when i had my first sleep over i went down the stairs in a pillowcase and broke my hand and the time my sister did a cartwheel down the stairs and broke the railing and my dad was so hostile and frustrated. The part that made me so hostile is when people had to come to the house and look at the home very cautiously i could not be in the house at all i had to leave and and be out of the house of half an hour with my 1 year old brother. It's extremely stressing to have a little brother that but I admire
A sharp pain in my side wakes me from my deep sleep. I thrust my body across the side of my bed and vomit into the bucket below. Moments later I hear footsteps approaching my bedroom. My mom peeks her head through my door and frowns when she sees the vomit filled bucket. Although this was a familiar scene for her, I could sense her worry as she wiped my face with a washcloth.
Without saying anything I continue to walk to the awaiting horrors I call home. My cheeks are red with embarrassment, I can't stop blushing. “Who is this guy?” I ponder. I fear the inevitable pain I will receive arriving home. I turn the corner and stop, I am afraid to look back to see him still standing there. I check to see that I still have everything and keep walking home. I open the door, my father is standing there waiting. “Why are you home so late, you're drenched,” my father yells “look at you, you are pathetic!”
after we were all done eating. My mom bought me and my brother a cookie for later. I was so stuffed like a teddy bear I couldn’t even walk. We got in the car and my dad buckled me in my car seat, and he also did the same thing to my brother. So then I saw my mom whisper something in my dad’s ear. And I was so noisy I was trying to hear what she was saying, but I saw that my brother was going to say something so I just looked out the window trying to ignore the conversation my parents were having. My dad pulled up at the mall, and I was so shocked. We went inside to shop! My Dad said to my mom, brother, and me to get anything we want, it doesn’t matter how much it
Summer was coming to an end, the night air grew brisker and the mornings were dew covered. The sun had just started to set behind our home; my father would be home soon. I walked into the kitchen only to be greeted by my mother cooking dinner. She stood there one hand on her hip, her one leg stuck out at her side, knee slightly bent, stirring the pot holding the spoon all the way at the tip of the handle. She looked as pissed off as could be. My mother always felt she could be doing a million other things besides cooking dinner. We sat there talking until I heard a familiar soft rumble in front of our house. The rumble was accompanied by my father fidgeting at the front door. His old noisy Bronco always made his presence known. He plodded down the hallway into the kitchen to greet my mother with a peck on the cheek. After one more quick stir she plopped a hot pad on the table followed by a pan of sliced meatloaf in sauce. The smell of the meat, potatoes, and veggies filled the kitchen instantly and the family gathered around the table. The meal was a typical one in our household, my mother who had a million other things to do that day, including having her own personal time did not feel like cooking a twelve course meal. However, my father who always came home expecting steak did not see the meal as appetizing as the rest of us.
I wake up in this room. My mother is to my left crying with her face in the palms of her hands. My dad, he paces the floor with his hands in his pockets. I am scared I can barely remember what has transpired. As my mother stands and looks at me square in the eyes, the nurse comes and says with a grin on her radiant face “Hello, Mr. Howard. How are you feeling?” I attempt to sit up, but my body is aching. My dad hurries over to help, but it was no use the pain was overbearing. I began to weep and apologize. My dad with a stern look on his face says, “Andra, you are fine now just relax”. How could I relax? I am stuck in this room with no memory of what happened.
Once upon a time, I saw the world like I thought everyone should see it, the way I thought the world should be. I saw a place where there were endless trials, where you could try again and again, to do the things that you really meant to do. But it was Jeffy that changed all of that for me. If you break a pencil in half, no matter how much tape you try to put on it, it'll never be the same pencil again. Second chances were always second chances. No matter what you did the next time, the first time would always be there, and you could never erase that. There were so many pencils that I never meant to break, so many things I wish I had never said, wish I had never done. Most of them were small, little things, things that you could try to glue back together, and that would be good enough. Some of them were different though, when you broke the pencil, the lead inside it fell out, and broke too, so that no matter which way you tried to arrange it, they would never fit together and become whole again. Jeff would have thought so too. For he was the one that made me see what the world really was. He made the world into a fairy tale, but only where your happy endings were what you had to make, what you had to become to write the words, happily ever after. But ever since I was three, I remember wishing I knew what the real story was.
As usual I woke up to the sound of my father pounding on my bedroom door, hollering, “Get up! Get on your feet! You’re burning daylight!” I met my brother in the hallway, and we took our time making it down the stairs, still waking up from last night’s sleep. As we made our way to the kitchen, I thought about what to have for breakfast: fried eggs, pancakes, an omelet, or maybe just some cereal. I started to get hungry. As usual, mom and dad were waiting in the kitchen. Mom was ready to cook whatever we could all agree on, and dad was sitting at the table watching the news. The conversation went as usual, “Good morning.” “How are you today?”
It was late at night my mom was drunk, I kept thinking why are we in the car driving around? I keep debating with myself that it’s a little weird because mom never takes me out this late. Never mind that I’m excited I’m turning eight tomorrow and mommy said I’m a big girl now! After driving for a while sadly we finally stopped, it was her awful “friend” Daniels house. We walked up to the door and rang the bell, my heart stopped when they opened the door “hello April, we missed you so much”, it was his sons Adam and Eric. I can’t open my eyes, move my legs or whisper even one word, this wasn’t happening to me not now my birthday is in two hours. I could feel my knees buckle I was so scared, afraid I may upset them again I went to the closet where they usually lock me up. It wasn’t too long ago I was here, they were so mad I can still feel Adam picking me up by my hair throwing me against the wall. Or Eric forcing me to eat moldy food, drink beer, smoke cigarettes, and watch disgusting movies. I looked at my mom and begged her to take me home. She had more important things to do with ...
My eyes abruptly opened in the middle of the night as I heard screams coming from the hallway. The door to my room swung wide open as my mom rushed in, grabbing my arm and throwing my siblings and myself into our closet. Right before the door shut, I glimpsed the red flushed face of a man holding a gun. I realized that man was my father. My eyes shut as I was thinking to myself “this is not happening” while squeezing my siblings hands half wishing this was all a dream I was about to wake up from. Screams continued to fill the air for what seemed eternity. I still do not know to this day if those screams were from others or from myself. It all stopped once the gun went off. Silence pierced the air as sharp as a knife. I could hear my own heart
One beautiful day that summer, I was playing outside with my friends when my mom called for me to come home. I did not want to abandon my guard post at the neighbor's tree house so I decided to disregard her order. I figured that my parents would understand my delima and wouldn't mind if I stayed out for another two or three hours. Unfortunately, they had neglected to inform me that my grandparents had driven in from North Carolina, and we were supposed to go out for a nice dinner. When I finally returned, my father was furious. I had kept them from going to dinner, and he was simply not happy with me. "Go up to your room and don't even think about coming downstairs until I talk to you."
It was around 2:00pm and it was time to open presents. I started with opening friend’s presents then I opened families. I was finally done opening all my presents. I looked around at all the people, who were looking at me and my dad was nowhere to be. That was the only present that I was looking forward too. The party ended and my dad didn’t show up, my little four years old hopes were in the ground, it was like I could feel my heart ripping appart. I looked at my mom and she mouthed I’m sorry, my faced turned rosy red and my eyes filled with tears. From that moment on my life was never the same. It was a dark cloudy day and I was going to see my dad. We were playing the game Sorry and he was winning. I was the yellow player and he was the green player, he was laughing and smiling the whole time. I wouldn’t have wanted to spend my Friday afternoon any other way. When the game was over he asked me to clean up the game while he went out to smoke a cig. When he entered the room and the game wasn’t picked up, he went crazy. His eyes seemed to turn a dark almost black color. It was like he was a completely different person when he came back