Personal Narrative: My Dad

No one knows the story behind why my dad is such a horrible. You've only heard bits and parts of the story that are easy for me to explain. They don't make me tear up because I know that nothing is ever going to change. There're some parts in the story that make me frustrated and tear up and those are the parts that I hate to share. I just have to be strong enough and courageous enough to tell the parts that hurt the most. I share my feelings about my dad on this blog to vent and to show you that through difficult times you're not alone. Sometimes you feel like you're trapped in a dark hole and you can't get out. The truth is you can get out. Look for the light at the end of the dark hole. There is light somewhere you can't be stuck in the dark for the rest of

you lived a perfect live, worked hard througout school and been a faithful christian you whole life. you were respectful and grateful as a kid and never took anything for granted. you have worked your whole adult life on being the perfect father and dont think you could have done any better. you read the scripture every day and work extremely hard to provide for our family. you never yell or raise you voice and always keep your cool. you manage to bring scripture into punishing us. you struggled early on in your marraige just to put aside money to put us through college. i have done nothing to deserve it. you have been the perfect husband to mom. never fighting and always compromising to make her feel like she should feel. you are so

Beep!beep!beep! The sound of my alarm clock ringing at 5:00 o'clock in the morning, bringing me back from a deep sleep. Realizing that today is another day of working with my dad in the hot steaming sun for continuous long hours. Growing up in my teenage years I've always been spoiled and I never really knew how hard my dad had worked as an electrician and to keep a roof under our heads. My dad worked more than 60 hours a week and took care of 5 people in his family. I've always been given designers shoes to high-end brand clothing to even a 400 dollar watch. Pretty spoiled huh ? Not many kids get to have the things I have and I've always took life for granted .i started working with my dad in the beginning of this summer and it's been the

It was the spring of 2013. My mom took me out of school early that day because we needed to get driving to Dike, Iowa. Since my sister is also a volleyball player, she has state that same weekend, but not in the same place. However, the sophomores were at the same place we were. Anyhow, my sister drove with my mom to the hotel her team was staying at, and I drove with my dad. I’m a lot like my dad so I get ready pretty quickly and I only pack what’s needed. When I got home, it took me about five minutes to get ready since I packed my bag the day before. On the other hand, my mom had to take at least half an hour to “fix” her makeup and her hair, and my sister took about forty-five minutes just to pack her bag! Anyways, my dad and I made it

When I was eight years old, I realized I was slightly different from my dad, but very similar. My dad, and my brother, and I were sitting upstairs in our room and my dad said, “I’m gonna draw something for you guys to guess.” So my brother and I sat there waiting and watched him draw it. My brother and I were interested and what he was drawing and we really liked it. My dad made sure the drawing was well done so we could all guess what it was. He was getting close to the end and me and my brother kept trying to guess it and have fun with it. It took a minute for my brother and I to guess it, but when we finally got it is when I realized I wasn't talented at drawing like my dad and I don't like to draw as much as him. Although I had fun with him, we are very different.

What keeps me up at night is how privileged I am. My father grew up in a very poverty stricken town, Guanajuato. Even though his family owned a great deal of land to cultivate fruits, they were barely able to make ends meet. My Grandma and father would have to wake up at 5 am to walk all the way to the other side of town and then catch a bus to a nearby town, Celaya, to sell what they had harvested. While there, my father would go to a nearby wasteland to find any old toys or clothes others had thrown out. This was a continuous thing until my dad, at the age of 15 decided to come to the United States, with nothing else other than a few extra pairs of raggedy clothes, that he had gotten from the wasteland. My father stayed in Texas to help provide

school and I didn't have friends or anything so I was alone.one day i was at school and it

I heard a loud yell as I stepped off the last step off the bus. It was 4:02pm and I had just gotten back from school. “Emily, come here! Hurry!” It was my dad. 1 million things raced through my head as I heard the loud yell. Was he hurt? Was someone else hurt? Living on a farm, with animals and machinery, you generally don’t think of anything good when you hear yelling.

The year is 2011 and my parents are staring at me across the dinning room table. The only thing on my mind is that I am in trouble. At eleven years old I could not fathom what was about to come. The fights and withdrawn attitudes should have prepared me for what they said, but they did not. I never thought my parents would separate, and at such a young age it was hard to comprehend. I knew that my family was about to change forever. My dad treated me like a princess, while my mom pushed me in school and extracurricular activities. My parents evened each other out. When my mother and I had a problem, my dad helped us work it out. He was my rock while my mom was someone I thought I had to love. Our communication centered on things like girl scouts, soccer, or praise dance. I always felt she loved my brothers more than me. For a while that was fine, I had my dad who hung the moon and the stars for me.

On a Saturday morning, my dad woke me up so early and that was strange because he usually doesn’t wake me up around that time. He told me to get ready, and not tell anyone that we were going anywhere. So we packed our bags because he said that we were going out of town to Mexico but didn’t say the city. So we got to Mexico, and he told me that we were going to see Monterrey play against Tigres. We got to Monterrey, and the first thing

I always looked forward to my mom coming home from work. She always walked into the doors with a smile on her face and greeted us with so much affection. Seeing her each day after work gave me so much joy and I looked forward to it. One particular day when I was 5 years old, my mom pulled into the driveway and I got filled with excitement that I literally thought I was going to pee myself. Except when she got out of the car she had this look on her face that I had never seen before. She looked worried, scared, and heartbroken. My excitement quickly floated away. My mom approached my dad and said we need to talk. My mom and my dad went into the bedroom to talk and when they came out of that I room I knew something was wrong. Dad came out looking so angry and sad, as if his world was just turned upside down. My mom approached me and they both took me out onto the front porch of our home. I remember thinking in my head, “what did I do this time?’ That’s when the words came out my mom’s mouth, “Clay came to my work today and he wants to see you and have a relationship with you.” I knew Clay was

Yes, I had one parent I could never make happy. She believed her son was more disabled than he actually was. I still can make her happy, but I have to make sure he is receiving exactly what he needs and encourage independence. One of our main goals is to have students leave high school and be able to function independently. This has been an ongoing issue for the four years I have been in this position. It makes almost every day tense because the mother is a school employee. There are some other facts, but it is quite a long story. It would have helped to have some support during this situation. I have felt like I have had none. I am glad you have the support worker.

The past two days there has been a lot going on, so I’m going to combine them into one entry.

As I walk in, I see my dads old man blowing up what looks like the last green balloon. He’s got smoker lungs, so it looks like he took a while, since there was only one bag. I let him finished and got his inhaler for him. He looks like a grumpy old man, but once you get to know him he’s cool. He’s bald in one spot, just like my dad, and wears big dog t-shirts. He served in the Vietnam war. He’s shorter than most people.

It was my senior year of high school and everything was going great. My mother had been staying