A Slow Time in Life

Fast forward to when I was ten. I was already playing “mom” babysitting my two brothers for long days and now I was becoming my mother’s confidant regarding every area of her life, including the “ex-boyfriend” she maintained a relationship with while married to my dad. At the time, it seemed flattering, but later I came to realize, that was too much for a ten-year-old to carry! I began to resent her. In essence, I started to lose my childhood.

My mother became depressed, my father became disabled, and my brother was skipping school. I continued going to school from eight until four, which was a big relief in my life because it made me forget the hard times. My grades slowly began to decline, as well as my motivation. I gave up many opportunities such as attending New York’s number one specialized high school. I recognized my mistakes and was able to identify my failure. School was not the only place where I lacked interest in because I also slowly started to push my friends away. As a young teenager, I did not think I would ever make it to college. I became frustrated at my parents because my life was ruined and it was all their fault.

7th grade was the year I woke up. My mom called me into her bedroom late one afternoon and was still sitting on her bed, wearing her pajamas. The bright and cheerful sunshine that lit up the room gave a false ambiance of the tension that clouded the air. I already knew what she was going to say, but I did not want to believe it as the truth. I had noticed that my mom and dad's relationship with one another was growing apart just by the way they acted around each other. The conversations between them became shorter and their affection for one another began to fade. My dad spent his nights falling asleep watching TV on the couch, while my mom slowly disappeared back into her bedroom, alone. This had been happening for a while now, so I do not know why I was even surprised when my mom said to me that, “Your dad and I are getting a divorce”. I should have seen it coming. The clues were all in front of me, but I was too afraid to put them together. I was scared because, for the first time in my life, the image of my "perfect" family was crumbling before me. I knew inside that my family was falling apart, but I was desperately holding onto the fibers that I thought were keeping us together. It is hard to believe that one encounter can change the course of one's life forever. In this instance, I was awoken from the dream that I had been living in for so long.

Little did I know that on my first day of a new middle school my mom would have a heart attack and pass away five days later. The shock of losing my mom was compounded by being thrown into adulthood at twelve. Since my dad worked late, I was transformed from the blissful child who couldn’t bake sugar cookies to being obligated to cook dinner every night. I had never touched the washing machine, toilet plunger, or lawn mower, but that changed quickly. In many ways had to replace my childhood with being a parent to myself. By struggling these past five years, I’ve realized that life hasn’t been easy, but it’s allowed me to be ready for the future.

Towards the end of my junior year of high school my English teacher, Mr. Gomez, said some very important words to me. “Before you know it, you won’t be seeing me anymore. It’s time to figure out what your next move will be. Are you prepared to grow up?’ He made me realize that the upcoming summer would be my last summer as a child and the next summer would be my first summer as an actual adult. To be quite honest, I agreed and continued on with my day. It didn’t hit me until weeks passed by that everything was happening so fast and as I thought back to what he said, it actually shook me. Throughout my life I have always been reliant on my mother. Without her, I literally would not have a thing and the more I depend on her, the longer I perceive myself as a child; a label I no longer wish to have. After all, adults are

Junior high was the beginning of the worst years of my life. I lost my mother. Since that moment, I felt as if I have not lived a normal life. Losing a mother, whether physically, mentally or both, is one of the hardest things a girl can go through. At 12 years old I was left with a variety of emotions alternating between emptiness and loneliness to acceptance and reassurance. The only memory I can recollect of my mother before I lost her involved her driving me to dance recitals and competitions. I remember that time all too well, the time where I truly felt happy and loved. Now, the mention of my mother makes me cringe, not at the thought of her, but at the thought of her not being around anymore. My mother became unhappy with her life and everyone in it. I did not physically lose my mother, but instead emotionally lost the only mother figure in my life.

As for the LIFETIME IS A YEAR metaphor, Lakoff and Turner elucidate that this conceptual association allows the stages of the year to get mapped onto corresponding stages in the human life cycle: springtime onto youth, summer onto maturity, autumn onto old age, and winter onto death (1989, p. 18). Such a conceptualization, Lakoff and Turner add, is grounded on the common knowledge that spring is the time when plants grow and blossom and animal life emerges while winter is inherently the season in which plants go dormant and animals hibernate (p. 18). The lifetime-as-a-year metaphor is realized in such linguistic expressions as “the springtime of youth” and “the autumn of one’s

My significant decision was giving my mother the ultimatum to leave my step-father or I was moving in with a family member. My plan was to move into my older cousin Jessica’s home if my mother would have chosen to stay with my step-father. I would also try to get my sisters to live with me at Jessica’s home by proving my parents were unfit as parents. My mother left my step-father and I was going to help get custody of my baby sisters. In reality my mother was moving in a downwards spiral. We left the morning after the argument. My cousin Jessica, who is my mom’s age, picked us up barely before the sun was coming out. We had to leave my adolescent sisters behind, making my mother cry the whole ride to Jessica’s house while I sat in silence. My mother has been fighting for seven years now for custody. Throughout my high school

My eighth-grade year was when my life changed. I had good grades and had a future of going to a school of arts in the city that I live. I was living with my dad in the states. Meanwhile, my mom was living in the Dominican Republic. My parents had gone their way in life. My mother had her husband in the Dominican Republic and my dad had his wife in the states. Finishing my eighth-grade year my stepmom told my father that she did not want me in the house. My father said that I couldn't be in the house because there was no nobody to take care my brother and I. My only option was to go back to the Dominican Republic where my mother was.

It’s never really hit me how twisted my family is until now. I turned eighteen in January. I woke up on the twenty sixth of January feeling like a woman! Let me tell you, nobody can tell me nothing now, I’m grown. I thought I’ve already been through it all, and I have been through alot. I am smarter than I have ever been, and I have a good head on my shoulders, and I take the punches life throws at me, and I deal with them. I think I’ve been doing a pretty good job of it too. Considering, since my parents got divorced when I was probably eleven, every week I have moved back and forth from my mom 's house to my dad 's, house living out of a suitcase, and adjusting each week.

Jet-setting to different parts of the world, working full time, and an active social life seemed to take precedence over raising a child for my mom, and I seemingly became lost in the shuffle. Feeling like a burden on my mother, I was often left home alone or at a relative's home much of the time. Why can't I be included? Does my mom love me? Where do I stand in all of this? I silently wondered. It was during this time that I secretly promised myself, with all of the innocence that seven year olds posses, that one day I would be the kind of mom that would never leave her babies home alone. I would be a loving mommy, the kind that any kid would love to have. I would show the world what it meant to be a mom, and that it was a job not to be taken lightly. As time went by, the message became even more concrete in my head. I came second to my mom's big plans. I attended Cosmetology School while attending High School, and was due to graduate from both schools at the same time. Unfortunately, the big day came while my mom and step-dad were away in Hong Kong for three weeks. I reluctantly trudged through the day dodging questions from inquisitive teachers who inquired where my parents were. I came home to an empty house that night, as usual. Why weren't they here? As I grew older, I never let the promise I made to that seven-year-old escape my mind, and at twenty-six years old I gave birth to my son, Jacob. Having a baby sent memories of my own childhood flooding

Ten years ago, my life was drastically different than it is today. Every single thing that’s happened to me has since impacted who I am as a person, and where I am now. Although, I have no regrets, there were some moments I experienced in my life that made me think otherwise. I remember the day so vividly. My sister and I were watching Teletubbies, when we heard our parents fighting. Screams, and shouts. Bangs and thumps. This was no new discovery, though. My sister glanced at me, and saw that I was scared, scared that our family would split apart. She took my hand and held it tightly; she nodded her head, giving me self-assurance, as I slowly wiped a tear drifting down my face. I jumped into bed, knowing that the next day might be the worst day possible, but I pulled the sheets over my head, and filled my brain with unicorns, rainbows, teddy bears, and hearts; all happy thoughts. I stayed in bed for the next hour, knowing that my presence would cause more problems to occur. My mom came to the room later that day, and noticed that I was sleeping, so she walked out.

Woke up, got out of bed enthusiastically knowing it was Friday, and wanting my weekend to start as soon as possible. In school I met up with my friends “Hey, Luis wanna go to a party tonight?” … “I’m not sure my mom would let me, but I’ll try” I said. At the end of the day I headed home, hoping my mom would let me go to the party. I thought of bribing her in order to persuade her in letting me go. Maybe sneaking out at night if she didn’t let. But knowing how much she trusted me I knew she would approve.

I’m sixteen years old turnIng seventeen In November, I’m 5’1 with short naturally brown curly hair. I have two very smart, very outgoing, and, very accomplished older sisters both taller than me and with long beautiful silky straight hair their faces as smooth as porcelain . A little bit more about my oldest sister Ariana, is that she was always involved whether it was at home, as school or even at our church. Ariana wanted to try everything she possibly could, she was very enthusiastic like little kids opening presents on the day of christmas, maybe even a little more. She always saw the cup half full. In everything she ever tried she exceeded. Her grades were average but what she lacked in smarts she made up in personality. One of the things I can remember from when she went to school, was that she went out with friends constantly and when she didn’t our house was full of 14 year old girls something I found very amusing since I couldn’t wait to grow up and do everything my older sister Ariana was doing. But, when she started high school everything changed the pressures of school and my parents urging her to do better and better pushed her to her limits. My sister made a bad decision, she ran away at the age of 16, but don’t worry she wasn 't alone, she moved in with her boyfriend a month and a half later we found out she was pregnant. My parents were devastated and my sister Mayra was angry, me? I didn’t really know what was going on but I sure could tell it

I started acting out and misbehaving at home. My grades still looked the same but that did not matter to me anymore at this point in my life. Nothing really mattered to me anymore. I just lost my motivation. No one was there to guide me out of that terrible time period in my life. Then, out of going against my mother’s words I broke my leg hanging out with friends. I was in the hospital for three days was unable to walk for half a year. My mom was right there by my side the whole time; she sacrificed her own time just to care for me. I noted this very well and it made me realize that I had an amazing mom and how crappy I terrible have been treating her. Seeing that my mom dropped everything to care for me made me gain that motivation that I lost when my dog died. This