Personal Narrative Essay : My Family Is My Life

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.

My personal narrative has to do with my journey alongside my family in an event that we all faced. When I was in fourth grade my father got cancer. I am not over protective of the fact that he did, in fact I am quite open on the subject. If they haven’t forgotten, then my friends know, and classmates at the time did know. In this way it is very personal, but also a shared story. As I stated earlier, my father got cancer when I was in fourth grade. This can certainly be considered an unusual childhood. I do not think that many children have had their parents go through cancer when they were around this age. My family spent lots of time in this situation. We were open with this fact, and people had helped us. My fourth grade class

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!

As I endured the prospect of creating a genogram, I allowed myself to reflect and interpret the history and impacts that affected my family. During my review of my genogram, I was able to consider my family within a multigenerational, diverse, and socio-political context. By creating a genogram, a dialogue was started within my head and with my partner about which family traits, issues, strengths, and resiliencies made me who I am today. Subsequently, this dialogue made me aware that being raised in a small family has many advantages along with some disadvantages when acquiring information about influences and the history of preceding generations. Consequently, I did not have to contend with many conflicting recollections but I did have to rely mostly on my own memory, public records, and journals to piece together my genogram. Although all things discovered and recollected are not always fortunate on the surface, they subsist as basis to my personal resilience and strength as a gay man.

I grew up with both of my parents and three siblings, my family is extremely close, so close that everyone needs a break from one another from time to time. My family is far from perfect, I am not the oldest child but I always took on that role as being the oldest sibling. The one who watches my two younger siblings when both of my parents weren’t home. My older brother Aubrey was supposed to be the one who watched over us but he never did. He spent his days locked away in his room, or nat at the house at all. Taking on the role of almost a mother figure to my younger siblings was difficult. I had to learn to be selfless and not just think for myself at an early age. When my mom didn’t come home till after twelve to escape my dads drunkness or my dad was laying out drunk in the bedroom. I was the one who fed my little brother and sister. I was the one who cleaned up the room the three of us shared. I was the one who helped them with their homework, who did my little sister's hair. I didn’t realize how much mature I became because of this responsibility till I was in high school and was referred to as Mom by the basketball team. I’ve always thought that I was the same as any teen immature, reckless, and carefree. That wasn’t the case at all I had many responsibilities like babysitting my siblings,washing and folding our clothes, making sure they get their chores done. I did this because I knew my father drank because of our financial situation, not being able to pay the

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.

Losing a friends that you have to see everyday hurts more than if they were dead. I was 12 years old when I met Nastacu. She was introduce to me as "Stacy your brothers William oldest daughter" I took a look at her and seen she was close to my age and she looked cool. We got alone enough over the year for people to think we was sister or even best friends. She was my best friend. She was my sister. Then we grew up. In our teen year’s people always seen us together. When we was 16 years old we brought our first real bra together and wore it until we couldn't wear it anymore. We were inseparable. I loved her. I still love her but her mother is the devil walking the earth. Shirl had a Stacy with my oldest brother and she was a true work of art. She was so evil. Anytime I would go over their house I was put in a corner for no reason. If I would breathe to loud I was put in a corner. Stacy and her sisters as well was disciplined this way too. It got to the point where I refused to go to their house. In our teen years this did not put a strain on our relationship. We refused to let anything come between us. Over those teen years we still remained close although we didn't see much of each other as we liked.

I interviewed my dad Greg Kivlahan, Greg had a very fun but hard life. His dad owned a company called Kivlahan & Sons Construction, Greg worked there when he was fifteen. He was born on December 20, 1966 in Dubuque, Iowa. Greg, grew up in Dubuque and has lived in Dubuque all his life. Greg was born, at Finley hospital.

"Here we go again," I thought to myself. Another story about the silly little girl my mother would always refer to as we sat around the dinner table at my grandparent's house on Christmas Day. The cute little blond, of course, was me at 7, who was just perfecting the art of making herself the center of attention. But despite what I thought, the stories weren't about me; they were about my grandma, who would later commit suicide. I don't recall childhood events as clearly as if it were yesterday, but these stories offer a sense of relief. They allow for a perspective that is crucial to my identity and my development. Family stories play a very important role in a person's psychological development.

I remember our last goodbye, the last words exchanged, the ending of something beautiful. People you care about have big impacts on who you turn out to be. They guide you, teach you, protect you, love you, hurt you, but most importantly they are there for you. He was gone before I could even blink. And left me all alone. But family helped me through this journey and one day I hope to help others like others have helped me.

When I was first looking 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 on a glass box staring down in the Willis Tower, trying to unlock my personal definition of the word family. Now, let’s jump to the exhilarating trip to South Dakota!

I grew up in a house nestled in the mountains of Colorado, with a very unconventional family life. I was taught how to appreciate nature, and how to set up a tent, and how to downhill ski at the age of 4. I knew nothing about God, I had never even been to a church. I was always the kid who asked countless questions, and I remember asking my family if there was a God, I don’t think I ever got an answer. My childhood was also a lot messier than most kids, my parents split up when I was nine and when my mom was laid off of her job she started drinking a lot, and slowly fell into the arms of alcoholism. I remember nights when I would call my dad because my mom was so drunk that she passed out or was trying to drive somewhere. After some time I decided as an eleven year old that living with my mom wasn't safe, so I moved in full time with my dad, and cut off all contact with my mom. My dad felt so guily that my mom was hurting me so he went to court and fought hard for custody and after 6 months we won, it was truly the sweetest victory. It wasn’t until high school that my best friend invited me to youth group. I showed up and everyone started hugging me, and I was so confused as to why these people already loved me. After that night I knew there was something inside them that I needed. My sophomore year of high school I decided to go on a week long mission trip to Jamaica. That week completely changed my life, a friend of mine was washing my feet and at that moment jesus so

Growing up I was raised in an authoritative house with high expectations and high responsiveness from my parents. I am the youngest and my sister and I are seven years apart. My family is a fun and loving family on both sides, and offer great support for everyone. Growing up I was also close with my mother and father, but my sister and I had some ups and downs because of our age difference. Now that we are both older we have a much stronger relationship. I am very close to my mother’s side of the family as I visit my grandparents very often. On my father’s side, I only usually see that side of the family on holidays after my grandmother died. My relationship with my mother’s side of the family is very strong because I am the youngest of two granddaughters. When I look back on my past relationships with my family and compare them to my present relationships, I am very satisfied with how they are now. As I have gotten older I appreciate family more and see how valuable time with my family really is. When I was younger I was like every other child who just wanted to spend time with friends.

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

When I think about who I am in my family, I recall my experiences, good and bad, that has made me who I am today. To begin with, my parents divorced when I was a toddler, so my family consists of the maternal side of the tree; they’re too loud, too proud, and full of drama, but I 'm sure that all families have brown spots–don’t they? When is a family considered dysfunctional? Is there some secret sauce that makes up a functional family?