Personal Narrative Essay : Living With My Dad

My dad was out of the question to. He left when I was 3 years old to live with his girlfriend Ella. She is ok I guess but she isn't really a figure I look up to in my life. After all my think.

Once my mom and my step dad got a divorce her, my brother, and I moved in to our old house until we could go back to Tennessee where we originally came from. Everything went downhill from there. The house had no water or electricity and she would leave me

       I may not remember every moment I had with my biological parents, but I know my dad was always on a short fuse, and one day, he blew up. I actually find it coincidental now how I never liked him to begin with. Even when I was that age, I never let him carry me on his shoulders or toss me in the air like any normal and loving dad

When I was 3 years old my mother and father got divorced. My father was abusive due to drugs and my mother couldn't handle it anymore. After my parents got divorced my sister Julie and I saw my father every other weekend. My father got more into drugs after the divorce and my sister and I didn’t get to see him much. When I was 7 years old my father got put in jail. Since my sister and I were only children we didn't understand why our father left. Our father was in and out of county jail during our life D.U.I’s, starting fights with people, hitting my mother. We didn’t know much about what our father did because he didn’t want us to know because we were too young. But my father was sentenced about 30 days in county jail. My sister and I missed

I am a 14 year old girl who needs to have their father. When I hear that I immediately think about the father I wish that I had. If you mean mine, does that mean the one who abused me and blamed me and my innocent mother for his drinking and smoking problem? I knew that my mom had made the right choice because 4 months later, he told me that he was moving to Arkansas to get away from me because I was not his first priority anymore. Wow. That shot me down. Thank God I have my mother. I wouldn’t be where I am without her. She comforted me, and told me that what he said was not true. That I am a wonderful person who is beautiful, kind and has a big heart. I needed that in the moment for

When I was nine years old my father went to prison. Since he was a single parent, I was forced to relocate to Washington State to live with my grandparents. Moving to Washington was one of the worst things that I thought could happen at the time, even though it ended up strengthening me as a person. I was forced to leave my friends, school, father and all of my other family members. I was taken from everything I knew and was left very confused and conflicted.

Before I was born my parents had broken up and decided things between them would not work. When I was born my mother had custody of me, and my father was unsure that I was his child until they had gotten the results of the paternity test. My father fought for custody of me from the day he found out that I was his child because he knew he could provide a safer and more stable life for me than my mother. While living with my birth mother I was exposed to drugs and I was frequently left at strangers houses because my mother was either working or

I did not really like going over to my father’s house when I was younger. I was so used to my mother and her mom, I did not really know my father’s family. Every once in awhile I would have to go stay with my dad and his mother. I remember I used to cry for my Grandma Peaches (my mother’s mom) every time I had to spend the night. My nana said I even used to cuss at her because I did not want them doing my hair, or even picking out my outfit for the day. But once I got older, it got better for me being with them.

My father wasn’t a good man when we knew him. He was violent, and to be honest, a drunken bum. I was around 3 when he started getting really bad. He’d come home intoxicated, and start yelling at my mother about stupid things, like dinner not being warm for him. And every so often, I would have the misfortune of seeing him hit my mother. He had his days though. For some occasions, my mother would do something to get him to sober up. Most of the time it was for Maggie or my birthdays, but there were rare occasions where he’d be home, sober, and sweet to us for some reason.

Growing up without a father did not make me feel of any less value than other kids who did have a dad. I missed out on some stuff that other kids get to do with their dads like go

My mother was looking for a fresh start after my father's abusive acts became too much for her to bear. He never touched me or my sister, Hannah, in any harmful way but he and my mother would go at it almost every night. My mother would be left with a black eye and a swollen lip. I pretended like I didn't know what was going on. I regret that now.

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

"Never forget the past…because it may haunt you forever. Regret all the bad things…cherish the good things. Look ahead always…but don't let the bad things from the past get in your mind." As a young child, there were so many incidents in my life that made me become the person I am today. There were rough times as well as good times. If I were to tell you all of them, I would remember half of them. I think some of my incidents really had some impact, and some were just simple ways of life. To tell you the truth, the incident that had the most impact on me has to be when my real father left me at the age of three. I never knew my father. I mean being a baby, you really have no experience or recognition of somebody else.

I realized there was nothing else to be done, he was not my father and I was sure I’d see him someday, he wouldn’t stop loving me, and we would always have the memories of the brief time we shared our lives. He made the best out of my childhood.

In my case, I was blessed to go home to a dad every night, even though I can’t tell you anything about my father for the simple fact that he never gave me a hug, kiss, told me he loved me, spent any time with me or said anything positive. He always talked to my mom and me like we were nothing, and even beat my mom. When I would try to tell the family about it, they just looked at me like