Is Traffic Really What I Want?

In the fall of 2012, my mother almost succumbed to her illness. I had just begun my freshman year of high school midst angry conversations between my parents and the threat of separation. It would seem as if they bickered about the most irrelevant things, almost as if they had no other reason to fight other than the fight itself. Those moments were excruciatingly lonely, my father worked until the dead of night and my mother would come home exhausted from treatment. I now know that there was no one who felt more unvalued than my mother. I wish I had the ability to iron away this blunder that destiny had fabricated, however foolish this desire is.

"It will be okay" were the words he wrote to me a few days before we moved. Little did I know, but my dad would turn out to be right. The first few months after moving to Centralia I was miserable. I mean how can you move to a state eighteen hours away from your friends and things turn out to be

Southern California traffic can be very frustrating. I drive the freeway almost every day and the aggressiveness of other drivers has often left me feeling very angry. I can vividly remember a few months ago another driver was riding on my bumper, flashing his high beams, honking his horn. He then pulled in front of me, stopped his car, and got out of his car to confront me. While I decided not to jump out and escalate the confrontation, instead just changing lanes and leaving him standing in the fast lane, I found myself ruminating over the whole situation. I was able to stuff my anger holding myself back from doing what I really wanted to do, which was to jump out of my vehicle and get in his face. As I drove down the freeway I played

My dad was getting dressed nice in a collared shirt and slacks. My aunt Keziah was on her way over to watch my brothers and I was going to a friend’s house. Today the court would decide whether or not we live with my mom or dad. I finally understood. My dad loved my mom. He left because he had too, not because he wanted too. I heard him on the phone saying that it is best for him but not for his children. What was good for us was being where there was no abuse. No aggression. I do not blame you, dad. I believe you have changed. And he did.

Like many little girls, I grew up worshiping my dad. A small shy girl, hiding behind him, using him as my protection from the world, by his side every possible chance. I wanted to be whoever he wanted to be, wanted to do everything he wanted me to do. I did everything to make my dad proud of me, for years, trying to do my best in everything…all for him, yet somehow, it was never enough. The summer going into my sophomore year, when my dad was, as he usually was, drunk, told me that he was ashamed to have me as a daughter. This was the ultimate turning point that marked my transition from childhood into adulthood.

My mother worked nights and I went to school in the day, so we did our own thing most of the time. Things were easy and we were happy, until we had to move. When my nephew was three weeks old, we found out that my sister couldn’t handle him due to her mental disabilities. We decided to take him in and

At fifteen years old, I changed into an adult. My siblings and mother leaned on me for support. I felt it was my obligation to be strong for every one of them, and camouflaged a lot of emotions. I strove to stay positive for my siblings’ well-being, my mother's sanity, and my father's emotional welfare. I fooled my family into thinking I was alright when I wasn't. I tried to turn to my friends to help me bear the trouble, yet nobody truly understood. I thought I was losing my dad, and nobody could realize what that was like, since they hadn’t been through

Trusting men with my heart was no longer an alternative. Installed inside me was the dread of deserting. At the point when possible good examples were available or when father and child occasions would come up I would discover a reason not to run with good examples. That was one of my got to self-preservation instruments that I utilize not to give individuals a chance to draw near to me. On the off chance that they attempted; I would blame them for by one means or another selling out me with no proof of disloyalty. My self-protection instruments were to push individuals away and not confide in them with my heart. This one time, I sat on the back patio with my mom, it was a dazzling invigorating night, and a portion of the area children was getting fireflies as they lit up the night sky. I revealed to her how I felt about my father relinquishing us however above all how he forsook my two more younger siblings and I. I disclose to her that I felt that my dad was dismissing his obligations as a father and how much I thought that he was a quitter. I went on my tirade for no less than 45 minutes not knowing how much hurt and disdain I had developed for him within me; I was a ticking time bomb just waiting to implode. My mom just tunes in to me and enable me to continue venting until I was crying and asking God what did we do. What exacerbated

In the years following my parents’ divorce, I discovered who my parents were as people, and not just as my mom and dad. Regrettably, I found that my father used to not be a very respectable man. Finding that out came about with living with him, my three brothers, one sister, and his new wife with an anger problem the size of Alaska. I distinctly remember one night. I’d had enough and I couldn’t do anything but get down on my knees and pray.

Rough starts, rough life and struggles, my childhood was not what I thought it would be. When I was born, I already had complications, I wasn’t those type of typical babies that would come out of their mother’s womb and cry. I came out of my mother’s womb but when I came out I did not cry. The doctor had to slap me for me to be able to cry. I was what is called a blue baby, I wouldn’t normally breath when I was a newborn. My parents even said that I almost died when I was a baby. It was long amount of time and days for me to be checked out of the hospital. For a baby, I thought that I was very strong because I handled all those pain when I was young. It was probably last year when I found out the whole story about my childhood. The doctor

As a child I never knew what it was like to have a father; subsequently, twenty

I had a painful childhood. So much time has passed that I guess I forgot just how painful it actually was. I was raped by a family member in the basement of my own house when I was seven years old. Not only did that take away my feeling of safety but my spirit as well. I kept this secret for many years and coped with it by self-harming, which started when I turned 11. When I turned 14, I went on stage during a church service and spoke about what had happened. Although it tore my parent’s souls apart to hear what had happened to me, we never spoke of it after that day. Two days after Christmas my father found me overdosed on sleeping medication. I was rushed to Fairfax Hospital and after I recovered from my injuries I was transferred to Dominion

Staying out of trouble, being able to finish high school and move onto a 4 year college are just some of the things I want to be able to accomplish in my lifetime to show my family I was able to do so. It’s been 16 years since I’ve been able to see my father’s face and it’s an image of his face that is permanently stuck in my head and I doubt it’ll ever leave. It all started as a simple run to the store to him never coming back home and till this day I’m still waiting on him to come home. As days went by I realized I was never going to see his face again. At the funeral it still did not sit well with me, this is the last time I was going to be able to touch, see, ever hear him speak to me. “Goodmorning baby girl, see you when I get back” is

At a very young age, my life was changed forever. When I was four years old, my infant brother passed away, plunging myself and my family into pain and disorder. The memories I have from this time are clouded by darkness, and are primarily of myself being confused, scared, and lost. Sometimes, when I reflect on these sentiments, I wonder how easy it would have been for my young self to give into the agony of losing my only biological brother. I could have ruined my future if I had letting my grief impede me from my education and passions. Yet from the way I dealt with the sadness, I understand why I act the way I do today. Through kindness and happiness I was able to return myself to the world I had left the moment he passed away. By wearing

Can you imagine what kind of life you would have had if the person who is your father today rejected you and ran away every time he saw your face just because he did not want you to be born in the first place? Meet Yannely Suero, the girl who was rejected before she was even born. Growing up without a father was very common for children in Villa Flores which is a community in the Dominican Republic. But Yannely's situation was not just her not having a father to provide her with the basic needs that she needed, but it was beyond that. She had a father who did not want her and even told her mother to get an abortion the second he found out she was pregnant. Yannely's father was not around her mother before or even after she was born. When Yannely got a little bit older she wanted to know her father, but she, later on, regrated even finding out who her father was because of the way he treated her. It was too obvious that the father did not want her at all by ignoring her knocking on the door, or the way he turned around and ran because he could not even look at her face. This broke Yannely's heart but that was not the end of her journey. Through Compassion International Yannely found a purpose and she was able to heal and feel loved again. Through a sponsor who was like a grandmother to her, Yannely's life changed for good and she then focused on pursuing her dream of becoming a doctor. She held no hate against her father because she decided that her father's rejection would