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Effects of parental addiction on children
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For as long as I can remember, I outwardly portrayed myself as a calm and controlled individual. It is a true reflection of my demeanor, but it is the complete opposite of what I have lived throughout my childhood and adolescence. When I was in fourth grade, my father admitted to me that he was addicted to crack. At the time I did not understand what crack addiction meant, but I was educated by his actions soon enough. Shortly after this confession, the family structure I knew and loved began to collapse. In addition to my family’s dissolution, the neighborhood we lived in is not a place where success stories are born or a location people would visit without important cause. My neighborhood could be described as a breeding ground for gangs, …show more content…
There were many break-ins, but I always had a strange feeling about these break-ins because although valuables were stolen, certain sentimental items of value would remain untouched. I did not learn until much later in life that my father was the one stealing from us. Eventually my mother left my father and moved out in the beginning of my seventh grade year. My sister and I stayed with our …show more content…
I was separated from my childhood friends for that year, but we reunited the next year as freshmen in high school. Things had changed in that year: the friends that I grew up with became the gang members that my parents warned me about as a child. Out of all of my childhood friends, I was the only one to go on to college, let alone finish high school. The toughest part of my transition to my mother’s new home was this shift away from my childhood friends. Living with the feeling of turning my back on them by cutting off communication with them during high school was an isolating experience. If teachers saw me with them, I would be categorized as a gang member, or worse, if other gang members noticed then they would try to attack me because they thought I was a rival. I tried to explain this to my friends but they could not understand and eventually the friendships grew
Ever thought about getting involved with drugs? Peer pressure can be a major affect on a person’s decision. That’s why the people a person surrounds themselves with are important. In the novel Tweak by Nic Sheff, the author explains his life and how he grew up with “that life” on drugs. Eventually after getting the help needed before it was absolutely too late, all Sheff has are the memories to look back on, knowing that he made it through to a better life. Nic’s conflict with his past of being a drug addict teaches the reader the terrible effects drugs can have on a person through Nic losing his family, friends, job, money, and even a place to live.
Throughout “Chasing the Scream” many intriguing stories are told from individuals involved in the drug war, those on the outside of the drug war, and stories about those who got abused by the drug war. Addiction has many social causes that address drug use and the different effects that it has on different people. In our previous history we would see a tremendous amount of individuals able to work and live satisfying lives after consuming a drug. After the Harrison Act, drugs were abolished all at once, but it lead to human desperation so instead of improving our society, we are often the reason to the problem. We constantly look at addicts as the bad guys when other individuals are often the reasons and influences to someone’s decision in
Billy Thompson and Sam Westfield were similar in many ways. Since a young age they both has excelled at sports and both loved more then anything, the sport of football. While growing up, the boys did not know each other and probably thought they would never have too. But all of that changed with the diagnosis.
Thomas, Janet Y. Educating Drug Exposed Children: The Aftermath of the Crack Baby Crisis. Ed. Routledge. 2004. University of Phoenix. 3 April 2008 .
Growing up as an only child I made out pretty well. You almost can’t help but be spoiled by your parents in some way. And I must admit that I enjoyed it; my own room, T.V., computer, stereo, all the material possessions that I had. But there was one event in my life that would change the way that I looked at these things and realized that you can’t take these things for granted and that’s not what life is about.
A calm crisp breeze circled my body as I sat emerged in my thoughts, hopes, and memories. The rough bark on which I sat reminded me of the rough road many people have traveled, only to end with something no one in human form can contemplate.
I scrambled away as fast as I could with my wounded legs, I fell of the side of the counter, and proceeded to walk/fall accross the floor. I fell and felt his hands come in contact with my arms and I started shoving his hands away from me, he's the reason I'm in this situation. I'm breathing hard and can feel the blood seeping out of my bandages, and I breathe harder. There's no air going into my needy lungs, no matter how much I breathe. I'm being burried alive by my own anxiety and fear of this single man standing in front of me.
My first memories of my father were what I now know as active addiction, I would watch the chaos in my house, the abuse, both mental and physical and at the time I didn’t understand but as time went on it was apparent, at the age of 11, my father hung himself, although he did not die he cut off oxygen to his brain long enough to render him blind and incompetent to care for himself and he was place in a nursing home where he would reside for the next 25 years of my life. I swore I would never do drugs because I saw firsthand the destruction, but my family addiction did not stop there. My aunt was a daily drinker, my uncle was addicted to heroin, another aunt addicted to crack
It was all fun and games until we heard the sirens. We went to the cops terrified that we were in so much trouble but we didn't know why, once the police told us we did nothing wrong, we all learned a very important lesson. Ask for permission before you do things. It was a bright sunny summer day in August and my friends and I went down to CMH high school to play football. Me and my friend were captains and we picked out teams. A couple of touchdowns later we heard the sirens “Wee-Woo Wee-Woo”,we were scared out of our minds.
It all started with a fish, a chair, and a really bad smell of course I am getting ahead of myself and I wouldn’t want to puzzle you (or would I), you see maybe there is no actual fish, what if the chair just smelled really bad, Maybe someone was smelling bad and they sat on the chair and now the chair smells bad. What if there actually was a fish and that’s what smelt bad… so now I was looking around for the fish. I was thinking to myself “gone forever,” just then I felt something squishy in my coat pocket, and I said “Wow would you look at this!” and pulled out some moldy playdough. I think this will taste good so I took a few bites. A it tasted like play dough first I thought it tasted like something I have tasted before but the I felt
rushing through my veins, I have never been this excited, it like I woke up with all the money in
“The secret is how to die.” Those were the last words I heard before falling into what seemed to be a bottomless abyss. At last I hit the stony ground feeling every bone in my body cry out. I did not move, I did not speak. Darkness held me in its grasp not allowing me to move but eventually I stood. The room was no brighter than shoe shiner and damper than a fresh dew. I was able to make my way three strides in each direction before hitting a wall but I did find something. It was a 9mm pistol with a attached tactical light. Without hesitation I picked the pistol up, put it to my head and pulled the trigger. Once again I hit the floor with ear raising crack. I recovered the pistol similar in appearance but different from the last. I saw
My full name is Zachary Randall Durbin and when I wasn’t born yet my mom was going to name me Mathew. I don’t like that name because it doesn’t seem like it would fit me. Luckily my Uncle came to town 2 days before I was born and I’m not sure what he did to convince my mom of agreeing with the name Zach. I love my uncle for that. Well when I was 3 years old my real I got my name from my uncle because my mom wanted me to be Matthew but thanks to my uncle I have the name that seems to fit me the most.
I was talking to myself. Talking! Talking! Talking! Talking that set into panic. Panicking to the point that I had forced myself to attempt standing still in my narrow apartment hallway to allow my tears to ever-so-dramatically drip across my now confused expression. I was confused to where shaking was the only message my brain could transmit. My hands picking my scalp out of nervousness, scratching my head and neck as if I had been infected with a parasite, I could not stop scratching. Gargantuan tears raining on my swelling cheeks, the vibrations of my choleric voice ringing in my ears. Trembling was the only remedy to the yammer of confessions that were spewing like a waterfall out of my mouth; it was a frighteningly human moment from a
When I was a kid, I absolutely loved Disneyland. It was one of my favorite places to go for vacation, during my childhood years. I enjoyed getting away and experiencing the different shows, rides, and other things, I couldn’t enjoy while being at home.