Essay about Family Stories and Personal Identity

Even tho many are lucky to have their parents together and grow up in one family that was altogether, I was lucky to grow in a divorced family and I say lucky because I have become stronger because of this situation and even tho I have become stronger, I have also learned to cut off the slack off myself. I grew up with 3 older male siblings and we were not the type to get along and share, some of us would help each other and the older tell the younger how to survive through different circumstances but I was left out.

Identity-“Ones personal qualities.”Identiy is something only he or she can fully define. My uncle says I am affectionate,cheerful, and calm. My grandmother sees me as slim, pretty and sweet. My dad described me as perky, cheerful and happy, my mom says beautiful, gentle, and self-conscious. These adjectives describe me accurately, yet they are only abstract versions of me. Adjectives cannot begin to describe me and I aknowlege these descriptions for what they are, a condensed translation from my outward self to the world. It is impossible for anyone to understand me completely because nobody has experienced the things I have. My mother has never cherished a raggedy doll named Katie and my father never

mostly of Caucasian. Although I am a quick learner, it was especially hard for me

In Amy Ma’s My Grandmother’s Dumpling, she recounts a time in her life when she was a little girl at her grandmother’s house. She assimilates this time of dumpling making in the kitchen to a time of happiness. She tells us this story to remind us all no matter what you think you have many fond memories with your family, you just have to look back and see them. The setting for this special occasion was hosted at what Ma calls “home”, her grandfather’s house. When you’re young your family pours love on you in many ways, and they give you many memories to hold on to and look back on and smile.

Family identity is important to develop who they will be in the world, a family's values, goals and vision help build a strong foundation that will mold someone into a productive member of society. Family relationships are the building blocks that lead to strong moral values. Respect, honesty and trust are all developed with family members. The stronger the bond in the family, the stronger the moral values will be as a person grows up. If the family doesn’t have strong values, skills will develop based off the environment. This can be a tough thing to learn, not

Have you ever felt so nervous in your life that your mind ached with anxiety. It was the final race in my seventh grade track season, but little did I know my anxiety became the least of my worries.

When I first looked for a topic, it was harder than I thought. As I picked up my pen and paper everything evanesced. When the topic searching wasn’t going well, I tried to define the word family. Ooh did I think long and hard, but realized that everybody’s definition was personal and different based on their feelings and memories. I thought long and hard into my family history and adorned the memory of our vacation to South Dakota, along with the activities attached to the trip. In my family narrative, I will be explaining a family trip to Mt. Rushmore, Kalahari, and the wild experience of standing in a glass box staring down from the Willis Tower, trying to unlock my personal definition of the word family. Now, let’s jump to the exhilarating trip to South Dakota!

“You're Mexican?” Is the question that has been etched in my brain from a young age. As a person of Mexican descent and little resemblance to stereotypical appearances of brown eyes, short, and black hair, this is the hurtful response to my answer for the question,”,What ethnicity are you?” Unfortunately, the assertion that I am Mexican is something that I have had to defend throughout my entire life. In defense of this part of my identity, I write this essay.

I lived with my grandmother for the first half of my life. She practically raised me. Everyone in our village would talk about how much she spoiled me. She would go out of her way to get what I needed. One day I was playing with my friends, there was food in the house but I just wanted to eat snacks. I complained and whined about it until I got what I wanted she made my uncle go all the way into the city to buy me some snacks even though I could’ve just eaten what was in the house. She was a part of me. We had so much in common. My mom wasn't unable to raise me because she was living in America.

She sits on the armrest of her wine-stained couch, then falls backward with a cushioned thud. Her thick, kinky hair lays splayed under her. Her large, veiny hands lift up to her tear-soaked face, covering her eyes. She sighs aloud summoning her roommates’ attention.

This image above, is a genogram of my family. It includes both my dad’s side of the family, the Zwanzigers, and part of my mom’s side of the family, the Pechotas. The communication patterns on the Zwanziger side of the family and the Pechota side of the family are different from one another. Both of my dad’s parents are deceased and his only sister lives in South Carolina so we do not get to see each other very much. When my grandpa and grandma were alive, they also lived in Iowa and my dad’s sister and her family lived in Illinois so they would come to Iowa more often to see my grandma and grandpa and my family. Now that my grandparents are no longer living and my aunt and uncle live farther away, we do not get to see them nearly as much as we use to. When we do get to see them though, a lot of times our communication between each other, is telling family stories. According to Galvin, Braithwaite, and Bylund (2015), family stories are told in order “to remember, to create belonging and family identity, to teach expected behavior and deeply held values to current and future members, to develop the family culture, to connect generations, to manage stress, and to entertain” (p. 100). When our families get together, we love to tell stories about our Grandpa and Grandma Zwanziger.

Everything was about to change, we wouldn’t order take-out on Sundays, it was a big deal, I was losing my best friend, the only father figure I have ever had so far. I watched him taking all of his stuff out of the apartment, I was getting more and more mad. Wasn’t our beautiful relationship enough to make him stay? I even blame myself I thought I had done something wrong, maybe wearing his clothes and leaving them all messy, I apologize and swear not to do it again, but it didn’t matter the decision was already made.

10 in the morning on a Friday, Veteran’s Day. Being as lazy as I would make this scenario none but imagination if it were not for one specific event of sorts. Sitting in a Starbucks, the only one among two other friends without a drink yet all three of us are more than excited for what the next hour has in store. The first signs rolled up in sight from the front door, lined up, and staring us right in the eyes. Flat fours, exhaust ranging from one tip to four, and badges encircling a familiar six star pattern.

Then the 134 arrived. I got on, showed my pass to the bus driver and

No one can’t meet a family like mine’s. My family is well diversified. Every family member plays an important role in all my family’s lives. In my family, there are four people: my father, my mother, my little brother and me. My father is one who brings money home and is also responsible for organizing and planning family trips. My mother is the one who is in charge for making meals and makes sure everyone eats at the appropriate times. My little brother is the pet of the family. He actually doesn’t have any responsibilities, for he’s the pet. I am the rock of support in my family. I always go beyond my parents’ expectations. I also support my younger cousins and little brother, by being a role model that they can look up to. Another