Personal Narrative: Immacula Frederic

I rush into my home and run up the stairs to my room. I jump on my bed and roll over to my laptop and open it quickly. I log onto the One Direction site and see that I made it in time to see the bid. I scroll and try and find my name and I see I'm in third place for the tickets and the time is running out. I've already bid $7000 for three tickets and backstage passes. The reason it's so expensive is because these passes are the last set of passes for their concert. 5sos is also playing so we would be meeting two bands and hearing both of them play.

My mother, on the other hand, came from a two parent home with very “strict” rules and ideals, but her family could not handle conflict in a productive manner. My mother told me that despite their deep religious beliefs and ideals the family was a mess. My grandfather was a military man, with a hot temper,who believed in discipline and my grandmother was the only daughter of a very passive and complacent farmer. There was a lot of strife in my mother’s family growing up, she tells me that she remembers family gatherings frequently ending in yelling and someone getting kicked out. This environment bled into my mother’s personality and how she handled

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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 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

My mother eloped extremely young, which was not uncommon because she lived in Somalia. The happiness she eloped for was turned into deceit and heartache. My father, who is about five years older than my mom, cheated on her, twice. The first time she forgave him but, the second time well, that was the last straw. The second time, around the same time I was born, my mom was so furious that my father had to leave the house and he was not allowed to see me. After weeks of separation, they finally attained a divorce and after that I rarely saw my mom. Once my father was out of the picture, my mom had to be the man and woman of the house. When she was not in the house cleaning or cooking, she was out selling clothing and other merchandise. And when I say she was selling products, I do not mean she had a store. My mother would go out, carrying all her products on her back, and going door to door trying to make profit so she can provide for us. The only times my mother was

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 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

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.

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.