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Descriptive Essay About My Mom

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In my 16 years of life thus far, few people have influenced me more than my mother. She is the reason I have a life, after all, and I am extremely thankful for her and everything she does for me. Mothers tend to be great listeners and advice-givers for their children. I am fortunate enough to have my mother be a professional counselor, making her exceptional at both qualities. A couple of years ago, she earned a master’s degree, became both a school counselor and a clinical counselor, and specialized in helping young people. This proved especially beneficial for me during my awkward and confusing preteen years and remains that way during my late teen years. From conferences and meetings, she learned about how the teenage brain grows and …show more content…

Stress about school, my appearance, my social status, my future, among other worries consumed my thoughts, and I could not figure out why. To satisfy my problems, I came to the incorrect assumption that nothing I did mattered in the long run. This only shifted my sadness from stress about everything to the empty feeling that I was living for no reason. I drifted through the days, attempting to forget about my ridiculous idea, but for some reason my birthday triggered the insecurity inside. I tried to hide my pain, so no one would not worry about me. After a small party with my family, during which I faked smiles and pretended to be happy, my mother approached me in the kitchen of our house. Family tends to stay late at parties, so by the time everyone was gone my father and siblings were already asleep, and my mother and I were basically alone.
“What’s the matter?” she said, affectionately. She explained that throughout the day she noticed my sulking around the house, but did not want to confront me in front of our family.
“Nothing,” I replied, “I’m fine.” Most people would not like to delve any further than that; moody kids are usually not the best conversationalists. She could have used this as a way out and gone to bed and avoid discussing my odd behavior, but she wanted to confirm everything was honestly all right, or rather, discover what was wrong.
“Seriously,” she persisted. “I’m not going

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