Everyone has a story. The goal of my life story is to inspire hope, and show the way God breathed into me. I was born in West Palm, Florida. At six months of pregnancy my mother was checked into St. Mary's hospital, and gave birth to three pound, two ounce baby. Despite the expectation of giving birth to a female baby, she gave birth to a baby boy. She intended to name her baby Victoria, after the baby's grandmother on his father’s side. Instead she came to the name Victor after realizing the baby's gender. So there I was, on July 1, 1997 at seven-thirty in the morning. The third child to be borne by my mother, I was the youngest of the family. I was blessed with two older brothers, Paul and Santos (Danny). My mother raised us in Clewiston, …show more content…
My background goes from the island of Puerto Rico, to the country of El Salvador. As I get more in detail of my family you will discover we are not your average “Brady Bunch”. Were quite the opposite, even though I am beyond blessed with the family I have been given, we are as screwed up as they come. It was my first day of kindergarten when I came home to find out my parents were separating and getting a divorce. My life went into a tailspin. Growing up my father was always part of the picture financially. He was always a pay check at the beginning of the month. He was never there for what I felt were important life moments. As the years were to come my mom took care of my brothers and I. My brothers who were angry with my father lashed out by getting involved with the wrong crowds, and drugs. The weight of the family of fell on Victor. There were several factors that majorly effected my life. One of them being I was molested at the age of eight. So I went to very dark place. My parents were divorced, my brothers were giving my mother more than she imagined, and then I was molested. My childhood was robbed from me, it …show more content…
She lost her leg, has had two major heart attacks, and a stroke. Around that time the doctors instructed her to start saying her goodbyes. Her heart was going into congestive heart failure, and was pumping only 20 percent of the oxygen that it needed to be. Then I met Jesus. At youth one night, I received Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior. Over the month's I took care of my mother and the household. I slowly started praying for her, and to find out her heart was regaining function. The doctors were in total awe at her recovery. She was able to see me walk across the stage, and get my diploma. As I grew up, I learned, everything that happened to me in my childhood served me a great purpose. Even though I still act childish from time to time, and have a lot of room to mature, I believe it was my childhood that makes me the man I am today. As I graduated I had somehow was blessed with a second family over time. As I got involved in church and they became my second family. The worship leader is my father figure and his son is like my brother. Mr. Johniee (my father figure) has adopted Ruben and I. He treats us like his sons. We are sort of a trio known all of
I was born in Northern, New York, about forty miles from the Canadian border in a wasteland of a town called Carthage, sixty miles from the nearest walmart. My mother, now Louise Percy, is ex-navy and worked for the federal government on Fort Drum until she retired ever since I was born. My father, Donald Bishop, was a beauty. He was in and out of prison all his life, including juvenile. He was imprisoned much through my baby-toddler stage and when he wasn’t imprisoned he jumped from construction job to construction job, drinking and smoking marijuana heavily until the day he died, last May 28th. I was born into a household with my mother, father, brother and half-sister for the first few years in my life. My half-sister skipped town after developing a heroin addiction and my father drove my mother psychologically insane until she ended up in a psych ward and we spent a few weeks with my grandmother (father’s mom) until she was released. My mother and father split up and my father never fought for custody nor paid child support. My mother had been a single mom for ten years
My story isn't quite special really, although I have lived under some unique circumstances. My mother was a single parent raising my little sister and I until she married my Stepdad in 2007. I was five at the time and had no father figure until then. From that time on he became my dad. Our new family moved twice before living in a small city where we stayed for 6 years. This is where I made close friends, achieved academic excellence, went to church regularly, life was great or so I thought. What seemed to be our perfect life was turned upside down as hard times fell upon us. I was now the oldest of five younger siblings, my mom wasn't healthy, and my dad had to struggle to keep things going.
Most of my early life was rough. We moved a lot, and my parents fought and got a divorce, and my sister and I were always pushed and pulled from one parent to the next. After the divorce and even some before, my father was
However, my parents always understood me. My sister would encourage me to do things that most people would put me down for. I was really good at singing when I was 10 years old. I’ll never forget my older sister always asking me sing for her. As the year progressed, my mother started getting extremely sick. My sister and I never thought anything of it because our mom was always sick. This was simply because she walked to work everyday. She had to walk not because we did not have a vehicle, but it was because my mother could not drive. An accident occurred years before I was even born. My mother’s legs locked up and she crashed. It would take years of physical therapy to recover from it. She also wasn 't supposed to be able to have any
The next ten years were a blessing. Everything was perfect and everything made sense. My grandmother’s illness led her to come to know God and, as a result, the entire family was introduced to Christianity. The pain and suffering she had experienced through her chemotherapy sessions did not compare to the blessings that came into our lives after her miracle. It brought the family together and we were all happier than ever. My mother and aunt’s small business was prospering. My father and uncle’s business was receiving more daily customer phone calls than they had been receiving on a weekly basis. My grandmother was healthy and all five of her grandchildren were excelling in school. And most importantly, regardless of everyone’s chaotic schedule, we all got together on Saturday and Sunday mornings to go to church and praise the benevolent and merciful God that we had all come to know. Everyone was at the dinner table — what a blessing.
Growing up I never had the typical childhood. My parents had me when they were still teenagers in High School. They were not financially stable enough to take care of me, considering they were young and had no jobs. My mother dropped out to start working and my dad got his GED at an adult school before he started to work. For a while we were living in a motel because my parents were not on good terms with their own parents at the time. Although I was too young to remember our lives in the motels, I gathered enough insight on how it was for my parents, and it was not pretty. Since my parents were never together officially, after the motel stage, we never slept in the same house all together. My mom eventually moved in with my sisters dad, which
From here on out, my life changed forever. Not long after I moved in, things started to change. Jealousy, accusations, and anger kept me bound to the house, causing me to miss school. The amount that I saw my family kept decreasing and decreasing as time went on. Behind the fancy, perfect walls of this incredible house, was a secret nightmare. No one had any idea the pain behind my eyes and in my heart; not even my family. When the Bible says the devil comes in disguise…it is entirely true! The whole entire world around me, including myself, was fooled. I dropped out of high school because I was no longer allowed to go. The few times I saw my family I would tell them school and work was going wonderfully; which was a lie to cover up all the corruption of his family - that now had my loyalty because of fear. Once I turned 18, I never saw my family or friends. Everything I once loved was ripped away from my grasp. I questioned whether God was even with me still or not. Going from bad to worse, in 2013, I was trafficked in Mexico. I knew that this would be my death. I would never get the chance to tell my mom how much I loved her. All the dreams and hopes I held onto since I was young faded
Most of my family have been stars at the school I attended, my cousins were always nominated as the best students, my mother was the best in her class, they all are winners of the county’s test awards. When I got there everybody expected me to continue the legacy, and at first I was exceling, I skipped my second grade and went to third grade. In my third grade I was by far the best student. My struggle came when the aunt the least like me, out of rage answered my questions. Thus I learned my father was not dead, he just did not wanted to recognize me as a son, and in addition he tried to kill me before I was born along with my older sister. I learned that my mother was not working at the adjacent community, but
Growing up with a single parent wasn’t very different then growing up with two. My mom did the best she could. When I was in third (3) grade, she went back to school full time while working full time, and juggling the responsibility of having three (3) daughters. Having a single parent; we seemed to move around a lot. My mother always made the best in everything. Growing up with two sisters we didn’t always have brand new items or updated systems. We shopped at the thrift stores or the DMV. With my mom working a full time job and going to school at night we would have babysitters during the week. Sometimes, I remember if I was good she would take me to class with her. My father is a completely different story. He wasn’t horrible, but he also wasn’t the greatest. He was at least somewhat in my life. My parents never married; which made it a little more difficult. They would say; too many differences. When I was a baby he was always there. It seemed as I got older he was around less and less. I remember when I was 7; he told me he would pick me up for the night. After dance class I waited at my grandmas, outside, for 5 hours. It happened multiple times; where he would promise something and then not following through with it. I would never tell him how I felt; I would always forgive him. That’s what we’re told; forgive and forget, right? I used to hide in my closet behind my clothes and cry. Every time. I just felt like he didn’t love me. That’s when I officially turned to God.
My story begins at the age of six. I am standing in my school uniform with a stain on my shirt from the ice cream my mother gave me on the ride there. My little sister, Gianni, lay in hospital bed staring at the polysterene tiled ceiling. There was nothing much else to look at save the cheap print of an uplifting pastel on the opposite wall. The air had a stagnant smell of bleach and sickness. My parents paced back and forth occasionally glancing forced reassuring smiles to my sister. We heard a moan on the adjacent bed through the cubicle curtains. My sister began to cry. Panicking, I ran to her bedside and started singing Jesus Loves the Little Children a song I learned in Bible school the Sunday before. I look at my grandmother and she gives me a reassuring nod from across the room. My sister gives me a hug and drifts off to sleep. The doctors come a bit later and take her away.
My story begins on the 8th of November an "epic" day. I was born about two weeks early with my twin brother. we weighted about 8 ounces and we could fit in the palm of my dad's hand but not all was good we suffered from asthma and we were also diagnosed with being color blind. we had to be put in machines to help me breathe. That’s all I remember for my first 2 years of being alive. Then disaster struck as we had to go into the foster care system because our parents were drug and alcoholic addicts. Me and my 4 brothers we spilt up into two different homes me and isaac were with one family after about 2 months going home to home. Meanwhile our 3 other brothers were with a different foster family.
Have you ever put your trust, and love in someone’s hands and they betrayed you? Well, I did at just three years old I met my mom's boyfriend, who I would call dad at five years old. Through the first three years of my life, it had always been my mother and me against the whole world. But at three years old a man came into our lives who would change our entire lives whether for the good or for the bad. This man feigned to be a great father to my family, although he was the love of my mother’s life. He was and is still the only Dad I know, the man who showed me how cruel, and heartless someone could be. Through the first years of my life up until I was nine years old I was the happiest and joyful girl in the entire world, filled with the love of a mother and a father. But soon that would change after the man I gave all my trust and love, who promised to protect me from all evil betrayed me by sexually assaulting me at just nine years old. At just nine years old my voice was taken away from me and I became trapped within myself because I did not want to lose the love of my mother. I kept this ongoing assault to myself up until I was fourteen years old. And my whole life changed because not only did I expose a truth that I knew the rest of my family sided with my step-father the “Dad” I knew, the Dad that was supposed to love and care for my mother and me. He was a monster to my mother and me, but an angel to the rest of society. According to my family a responsible, strong,
I was born Portland, Oregon raised there for five years. I lived fifteen minutes outside a small town called Forest Grove which was an hour outside of Portland. Grow up in a Christian home all my life. I have three other siblings two are older and the other is younger. I have a brother is twenty-four, then I have a sister that is twenty-one and a brother who is fifteen. In the five year that I lived in Oregon we went to Solid Life Center and my parents were youth pastors. We lived in Gaston a very small town outside of Forest Grove.
I was sitting on my bed reading my homework assignment. As I turned the pages I could hear the crisp paper flip over after each page turned. I set the book down on the soft comforter. and looked in the mirror. I thought about how everyone said I looked just like my dad. The freckles that overlined my face. The dark brown eyes with thick black eyelashes. I thought of his image in my head. The only thing that remained different were my eyes were filled with sadness. If there was one thing I would always remember about my dad was that his eyes were always filled with happiness, excitement, or sympathy. I felt my face slightly redding. My eyes welled up with tears. I felt a big lump in my throat that I attempted to swallow. I felt the tear drip down my face. The tear fell close to my mouth and I could taste the salt from it that followed. I wiped my tears quickly, and stared at the picture of my dad. Then I told myself that if he were here he would want me to help mom, and take care of her. I thought of how I saw my mom crying for weeks after my dad passed away from getting shot from his job. My dad was a police officer and always protected us. It’s been almost a year since and my mom had never been the same. I could feel myself getting more angry.
Who I am has taken me quite a long time to figure out. My journey has been filled with happy times and sad times. Difficult times and triumphant ones. My journey of life began prematurely on February 17, 1983 in Memphis, TN. I was born to two of the most wonderful people on this earth, and that’s a completely unbiased opinion. I weighed a whopping 4lbs and 13ounces and I had to stay in the hospital for quite a while before I was able to be released to go home with my parents. About a year before I was born, my mother’s father passed away and my parents moved into my grandmother’s house to help out. It helped them quite a bit as well because my father was working a lot of overtime and my mother was in nursing school.