Personal Narrative: Immacula Frederic

Growing up, my family never really had much. Nearly all our furniture was picked up from the streets and a majority of my brother and I’s clothes were hand-me-downs. To make matters worse, my dad was addicted to gambling and would argue with my mom every night in regards to this issue. After a few years, this led to my family being in major debt and my mom decided it was time for a divorce. My mom raised me and my brother on her own while also working to pay off all the debt. I never realized how hard working my mom was until many years later. She would take me and my brother to school, work a full 8 hour shift at work, sometimes even longer, and go to school to get her associates degree. Afterwards, she would come home and cook dinner for

She was a great disciplinary, and taught us right from wrong, and instilled in us values that would make us productive citizens that we are today. I am obviously writing this because I didn't always stay on the right and narrow path in life. I often times chose to challenge authority and act out for attention because my mother would always be working to support us children. In a way with me being the youngest I got attention more than my older brothers, but it wasn't enough for me. I craved it and would go the distance in testing society. Truthfully I did not weigh the consequences of my actions at the time. I believe I had done things I knew at heart were wrong, but ignored my moral compass for the brief attention even if it was her disciplining

In my mind my mother was always on one side of betrayal to me; she gave betrayal on a small platter, but was always a complex explanation. As I grew older I never expected thing from her, and when I did I always knew that the promises were lost idea, when they left her mouth. As my defense I always think that nothing changes, and when they did happen they never seemed to like me, or I like them. Moving is a small thing to take in I grew up learning to pack because we moved a significant amount. While those were mom’s decisions I never took them as anything, until I look

When I was born, my parents had a hard time deciding on what to name me. Being a chemistry nerd, my mother considered naming me Francium, after one of elements in the periodic table. In the end, they settled on naming me Andrea. I live with my parents, younger sister, and grandmother. Unfortunately, I don’t get along very well with my family. Because of that, I tend to spend time away from them. My family has lived in The Woodlands for over one and a half years. When we first moved here, we found living in a suburb rather boring as there wasn’t a lot to do on the weekends. After getting used to the environment, living here has become relatively better.

At a very young age, my father and mother started losing interest in each other and never really saw eye to eye. My mother was an alcoholic, who never truly cared about my sisters and I. My sisters and I started losing contact with my mother over the years, because she started dating a different guy each weekend we

My father was in and out of my life growing up. As a child, I believed I had done something wrong. I thought if I cried, held, or told him I loved him enough times, that he would not leave. I tried everything, but he still left me. I was angry at my father for leaving, for not being there for me. As a result, I did not appreciate what my mother did for me. She took on both the roles of a mother and a father, while also having a full time job. She always made sure to pack my lunch for school or be the loudest person at my soccer games, but most of all, she made sure I knew that I was loved.

I began despising my mom. I blame her for allowing my father to use our home as a revolving door. I can’t fathom how she allows him to come and go when his girlfriend kicks him out, each time he leaves my heart breaks all over again. I loathe her for taking his physical, mental, and emotional abuse and not standing up for herself. I detest her for allowing him to abuse me emotionally and verbally. Not many kids can say their dads have spit in their face, or are told that “you’re not worth the thirty minute round trip to come visit”. I resent my mother for spending every second of the day crying and trying to get my daddy to come home.

As a senior in high school, my mother was the colonel of the drill team and was preparing for college when life threw a major curve ball her way. Once she realized she was pregnant with me, she had to change her lifestyle entirely. With no support, financially or emotionally from my father, my mother had to do it “all on her own.” This greatly affected my mother because even to this day she is still playing a role as both a mother and father figure, and has never complained or failed to follow through with any of her responsibilities. Raising me was especially hard for my mother because she lacked financial stability. There were times when she didn’t even have enough money for a bottle of formula. Her parents allowed her to stay at home with them but she was required to pay rent in exchange for my grandmother babysitting me while she worked as receptionist at a local chemical plant.

My mother growing up always did what she had to in order to provide for my siblings and I. She wasn’t the most nurturing mother, but she did what she had to, the best she could. She was the provider and I would never doubt her love for me. My mother gave birth to me at the age of 16. She was young, and the maturity level at that age was extremely low. She wasn’t able to adequately provide for herself, let alone me. This experience hasn’t caused mistrust in me. This has actually developed me as a mother. I am now able to use my experience from my mother to better my relationship with my daughter.

As I gaze up into the pitch black sky looking for the distant stars, I get this itching feeling at the bottom of my shoulder blade watching my arm move upwards as if it is trying to grab something. Then my hand unravels slowly from its prehistoric fist-like position to balance an object of unquantifiable size. Reaching for the stars was the only thing on my mind to then feel a glimmer of heat sparkling on my hand.

My mother is a very complicated woman. I believe the best way to describe her would be, “the road to hell is paved with good intentions.” I know, weird way to start off my literary story, right? As much as I do not like my mother, I love her, and respect her. While I am being honest, I owe my work ethic and a vast majority of my success to her, as much as I hate to admit it. The way she lived her life, most college graduates and the societal hoity toity types would raise their noses to. However, you can’t deny her dedication to her children and their education, she is the start of my literacy journey.

My mother has always been a sweet and loving girl. Her parents married young, and loved her with every ounce of themselves. However, they soon separated when she was only one year old, leaving her to live with her mother. She created many beautiful memories with her mom, who smothered her in love and affection. Even though her world was content, her mother struggled financially and emotionally. They moved frequently, and my mom attended nine different schools before third grade. Eventually, my grandmother became unable to take care of my mom anymore, so she made a deal for my mom to live with her dad for one year. However, when the time came, my grandfather refused to let my mom go, because he knew that she would live a life on constant change and instability. He knew that she would be happier and safer living with him. Indeed, when my mom started the third grade, she was far behind, and by the end of the school year was one of

Everything had changed, my mother and I used to fight all the time and there was always a door slammed on your fingers. My brother and I always had to go back and forth staying a week with my mom and a week with my dad. It went on for years until my brother started living just at my fathers house his sophomore year in high school because of drama that would happen between my brother and her. I was always moving to new places, different houses, my mom moved about five times within three in a half years. She was always on and off with a man who had commitment issues and to this day they're finally considering getting married. It was as if something in her shut off after the divorce, for a long time I always dreaded spending the week with her, she never planned dinner, and I always felt that I was fending for myself and nights became lonely with out my brother. I could have chose to live with my dad full time but I knew I couldn't leave her too.

My parents remained together after my father was released and soon celebrated the birth of my little brother. Right before the blessed event of their bouncing baby boy, nuptials were recited. You would think this would be the start of a beautiful fairytale with opportunities falling abundantly, blessings overflowing, and everything was right with the world. Unfortunately, it did not happen in this manner. I remember being little having to move often because we could not pay the rent in the current residence. Being young, my brother and I did not understand fully what was going because our parents kept us as sheltered as they could. Even when the lights would be disconnected for nonpayment, my mother would still sit by the gas heater and help us with our homework. Sometimes, we did not have food to eat, but my mother always provided something for us to eat. You see, my mother was a fighter and for her children, she fought the hardest. As long as I can remember, she has been the protective mother bear. When my father would mess up, as he did often, my mother never allowed us to see her breakdown. Her strength was more than a notion. As far back as I can remember, my other has always been a God-fearing woman who took of her entire family. Even when others turned their backs on her, she never allowed a “no” to stop her from taking care of her babies. At the time, I did not understand her strength or where it came from. It would be many years down the line before I would gain my

Most of my relatives on my mom’s side always say that she is a “terrible mother” because she always gives me everything that I have ever wanted in my life even when I am acting out or just being a bad son. But, even though she is getting lectured like she is some child about how her parenting skills are bad she always can put on a smile because deep down she knows that when she was a kid she could never have the things I have been given because of how poor our family was when we first came to the united states. After years of never understanding why my mom would always works so hard and never come home till around midnight when I was a kid, she was doing this for me and my little sister she worked endless hours to make