My First Time Of Life

Something in my stomach was telling me I would not see him. I did not tell anyone this though just in case I was wrong. But I was right I always have a way of knowing these things. He heard a knock on the door. A feeling of relief washed over everyone except me. The person at the door was the only policeman in town and Frank the town leader. My mom could not keep it together. It is a hard sight to see when your mom is sad. The person you look up to when you are a kid is crying. That can mess a 6 year old kid up. The time that would take place next went from 0 to 100 so fast. We cremated my dad's body and moved. My mom picked texas because it had good schools. We did not have any family though and sometimes I felt as if that was a bad decision. My mother would not tell me how my dad died until I was 16. Not living without a dad can be hard. When it is at the crucial age of 6. You need a good role model. My brother became my dad if he liked it or not. Everything that happened in my life seemed like a blurr. The fact my dad was dead never really hit me. But it hit me so hard and so fast. It was like a brick wall. I started almost failing my classes, sleeping all the time, eating a lot, not exercising, moping all the time. I still suffer from it today. Back then though I wanted to die. But it is so much better. I learned that I held my mom accountable and my dad for

My little sister Anita was born at the time and having a baby sibling around made me feel like a big kid or a parent. I loved holding her and feeding her with a bottle my mom taught me to do while she worked at a night shift (maturation). My fourth grade year is probably the time I went through the most out of my elementary school years. I found out things were getting hectic between my parents. I would see them fight almost every day about money, cheating, and where did they go in their free time. One night when my mom came home from grocery shopping they were verbally fighting and yelling at each other. I heard it from the living room and I went into the kitchen to see them. All of a sudden, I just saw my dad pushed her into the ground and started beating her. She eventually escaped from his grip and ran into my sister’s room. She called the police and they came and arrested him for assault. I couldn’t do much because I just stood there witnessing in shock. They divorced in October while it was the beginning of my fifth grade year. I started to go through depression since the whole thing happened. I grew bitter, unmotivated for school, and even crueler towards my family and animals. I had terrible grades in my report card and I tend to get embarrassed with my teacher yelling at me. I cried over the smallest things that would happen in class. People started giving me sympathy but then got tired of it because it happened often. Around the winter time my mom started to

I walked away feeling like I was a complete failure and that I didn’t deserve to go on. On the way home my mother tried to talk to me, but, I put on my headphones and cried silently. Once we were home my father asked how it went. The tears that were in my eyes and they became more evident as my shoulders and chest were shaking and trembling. The only sound in the room was the sound of me crying and wailing. I started crumbling and falling to the ground and my mother and father rushed to my side. They held me until the tears came to a stop and a little bit afterwards

My grandmother, who is the mother of my mom, passed away due to heart failure at the age of 87. Since I was 6 or 7 she had been living in our house. The reason for that was, my grandfather, that I was named after passed away a year before I was born, so she was alone, and she was starting to get old. Since she lived with us for so many years, she had been a very important figure in my life. I can honestly say that she was like a 3rd parent for me, and losing her, made me fell horrible and helpless. I witnessed how real death is because of her passing. Combined with puberty, my grief caused me to become depressed for a long time. As I’m looking back it sounds really extreme, but there were some days that I did not even leave the bed thinking that there was no point to our existence. Thanks to some psychological counselling however, I was able to overcome that mental

Six years ago, a summer afternoon, my dad hugged me and I said “I will be gone for three days, I have a job in Austin, but I promise that I will be back before your birthday. I promise.” Days, weeks, months almost two years passed by and I did not receive any phone call or text message from him. Throughout that time my dad was gone, my mom told me that she was getting the papers ready to divorce my dad. I was noticing that the last three-four years that I was living with both of my parents, their relationship was getting worse. It was not a healthy situation for anyone in the house. What I mean about not being healthy is that my mother and father were damaging one another, emotionally and verbally, which my brothers and I would watch everything. Every day was the same routine, we forgot how it was to have a peaceful home. Around that moment, I honestly never thought divorce was going to be their solution.

He would come home wasted after weeks of not being home; of me wondering where my father had been all those weeks. Staying up late on school nights just wishing for him to come home and tuck me in bed, to tell me he loved me, to ask me how my day was, or just tell me that he was there to stay. As a first grader it is hard to explain to your friends why they can not come to your house to play just knowing that if he is there that he will be drunk yelling at my mom for nothing. It got to the point to where he would come home after a few days and grab a suitcase and leave to go with his new girlfriend for a few days or even weeks. Right before he would leave I would always have hope that he would tell me where he was going or take me with him. I just wanted a father. My mother always told me that he would be back and to have hope; to always trust in her and that she would always be there for me. She was always my rock when I was younger. Until one day she finally told me what a monster the man I called my dad was. He was an abuser, physically and mentally. She told me the truth about the man that I wished was in my life for so long. He never wanted me. I was the youngest out

Although I had an older brother and sister, I felt alone a great deal of the time I was growing up. I never "acted out" my need for attention. I did not get bad grades in school. On the contrary, I was a quiet child who made the honor roll. I was always given my sisters hand-me-downs which I resented. My grandmother was very strict and often cold. There were never hugs or kisses and not once do I remember an I love you. My father still came to visit, but remarried when I was eight. His new wife was like something out of a horror novel. The mental torture that I endured was a million times worse than what Cinderella went through. My grandmother along with my brother and sister came up with a nickname for me. They called me dog and taunted me every time we passed the pet supplies in the grocery store. At the age of ten my beloved paternal grandmother Memo, the only light in my otherwise dark world, died in her sleep while I was in the next room. I sat and watched as the paramedics tried to revive her with no success. On the car ride back home, my stepmother screamed at my father to "shut me up and stop my crying," as if what I had just been through should not have affected me at all. She left my father a few years later. At fifteen I ran away from my grandmothers house and went to live with my dad. I was receiving survivors support which I never saw once I moved in with my father. Although I did not know it

The moment I realized that my dad was not going to be in my life was when I wrote him “that letter.” My dad had went to jail, and at that time I still fought for my relationship with my dad. In the letter I basically informed him that everything was going to be alright. God was going to bring him out of every situation, and many more words of encouragement. Our relationship had been somewhat okay, I visited him in jail and of course you know how things go with certain people. They tell you that whenever they get out, they’re going to be a better person, he’s going to continuously be a part of me and my brothers lives. So what do you think happened? That shit never happened. I think that’s what had hurt the most. Because I literally gave so much into that letter, and for you to continuously lie to me and tell me that you’re going to do something and you don’t is pretty fucked up. Because even when people were beginning to give up on him, I was the only one being positive and trying to give him a chance and be there for him. I just don’t understand how you can just look someone in the face and feed them all this bullshit and then you don’t make the effort to make anything happen. But I guess that’s why it’s called

My dad cheated on my mom when I was five years old my youngest sister was only four months old. At the time I obviously did not understand what was really happening. My grandmother told me a few years back about the day my dad sat down with me and told me that he was leaving our house. She said I called her and cried and said that I didn’t have a family anymore. She said that broke her heart and knowing how I felt about this at only age five breaks my heart today. Although my parents did split up my dad went to live back with his mother. We were able to see him every Tuesday, Wednesday and every other weekend. He actually used to be my hero. When I was in third grade both my parents found new people to be with. My dad actually was dating the women he cheated on my mom with. My mom was dating some guy she met online who became my step father. This affected my life greatly. I hated moving back and forth from house to house, I have been afraid of my dad my whole life I could say he had this tone of voice and everything he did was yell and scream. He used to hit

Growing up in a home with both my parents, I was fortunate to be able to spend a lot of quality time with my father. We used to go out together and play soccer, baseball, and ride bikes. I remember we used to play a lot of old school video games and my mother would get pretty upset at the hours we spent playing and not doing anything productive. In my point of view, our relationship was perfect; our bond was strong like any father and son. I was only four years old when my world was turned upside down. My life changed the day that my mom and my dad separated, I felt alone. The process of a divorce was too much for a child that age to handle; it was a hard time for me. Although I had no father figure for about 12 years because my dad moved

Losing my mother was very traumatising. She was the only parent I knew since the age of three and the one person I knew I could depend on one hundred percent. I was in school when one of my cousin came to inform me that I was to return home immediately. In my gut I knew something serious must have happened to my mother. I do not remember how I got home. When I saw several people crying at my home and nobody was really make eye contact with me, I just started to cry too and that is when someone told me how sorry they were for my loss. I was in shock for more than three days. I did not sleep nor eat and I did not shade single tears after the initial outburst. Basically I just wanted to crawl in a corner and never wake up from the nightmare. However, I had to become an adult and I

I was only four years old when my mother was murdered by my father I was there when it all started and I was there when it ended. Her death was a quick one so I was happy that she didn’t have to go through a painful death like the ones that I would have to witness first hand. After my mother’s death my life has been full of pain and sorrow. I miss mother but I know missing her won’t do me any good. The instant that father had murdered mother he put me inside of a facility where kids are not wanted.

For years, I convinced myself that the story of my life began when I arrived in America at eleven months old. I tumbled through the clichéd white-picket-fence childhood, never realizing how impossible it was to completely discard the first year of my infancy. While I had always known about being adopted from China, I did not fully comprehend the weight of this detail until my late teenage years.

Throughout this paper I will be writing about my life, starting from my very first memory and ending with my life as it is now. Since I was brought into this world I had an older sister who is two and a half years older than I am. My parents said right away that my sister was so excited to have me in her life that she did not care that she was no longer the center of my parent’s attention. She acted as if I was her baby. When I was just starting out, as a toddler was the time that I started to develop my first memories, which are not all good. Lets start from the beginning, my first memory that I have of myself would be from when I was almost two years old. In this memory I was attending my papas funeral. I remember that there was the colour red everywhere, all over the walls and even on the seats. It was his favourite colour according to what my parents tell me. From this memory I also remember my parents walking me up to him during his wake and allowing my older sister and I to put a photo of us into his shirt pocket so we would always be with him. After this memory, my next one occurs when I am around the age of two as well. I remember being in my families first home sitting in our kitchen with my mom, on her lap wrapped in my little mermaid blanket, drinking a little bit of tea with her while we watched my older sister catch the bus to go to school. This is still one of my favourite memories because I truly fell that this helped shaped the person I am today. I also

Devastated, I ran to my room gushing my eyes out. All these emotions going through my head of how my life would be without my parents in the same room or even house. From what I remember it all started about mid-June, the weeks before that were crucial. My parents would always argue over how to deal with a situation between me and my brother, Skyler. They hardly spoke to one another, but when they did they would just start bickering. I remember, one night after dinner they both went into ''their'' room with the door locked yelling at one another. Skyler and I didn’t know what to do, so we went downstairs and tried to figure out what was going to happen. With a scared tone I asked if mom and dad were going to get a divorce?" He answered back '' No, they love each other, they wouldn’t do that to us." That following night, was a school night everything was quiet except for my crying. I couldn’t sleep; all I was thinking about how it's going to affect my family.