Victoria Gerber
Professor Harris M.D.
Sociology 131
26 June 2015
Part I: Subjective Presentation
I was thirteen, a happy teenager headed home from a weekend at the lake alongside my best friend and her family. It was one of the moments in life that I will never forget in hindsight, for many different reasons. We had spent all weekend on the boat, laughing, and tubing. At thirteen, I had my family, my friends, food and shelter over my head. What more could a girl ask for? On the four-hour car ride home I had been calling my parents, and else anyone that I could think of to let them know we were safe and headed home, all without hearing a word back. I began to have a gut feeling that something wasn’t right; my gut knew something that I
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We all thought that we were the ones to blame, that we had been the bad kids that had split up our parents. I didn’t talk to my dad for a long time; I couldn’t bear it while I was living with my mom. She was inconsolable for a year. She would cry on my shoulder and wonder what went wrong. In hindsight, there was a lot wrong with their marriage. They fought and argued, and overall weren’t happy for a long time. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned to not do things that I know I will regret, and I regret not talking to my dad. Over the years, we’ve had conversations about how I acted and how bad it hurt him and it’s one of the few things in my life that I will always regret. I was young and didn’t stop to think about how it would really affect him, but I wish that I could have gotten past the hurt and anger that I felt and reached out to him sooner. To me, I blamed my dad, because I lived with my mom and she blamed my dad. It was difficult having only one parent speak so badly about another parent and I didn’t know how to handle it.
There were so many legal aspects to my parents divorce; it took three years for the process to finally be settled. It took three years for life to return to a semi-normal state. The lawyers
On March 4th, 2005 I sat in Mrs. Musser’s first grade class. I talked with my friend Olivia Thacker, like I did everyday. We talked about boys; how smelly they were and how we would never have boyfriends. We talked about our sisters who were also friends, and we talked about our parents. However, that year we mostly talked about my mother. Around 2:45, my sister, Lauren and I, would walk to the farthest end of the school. That end of the school was filled with the bigger kids and I was always scared to walk on that side. My sister who was in second grade at the time, always walked with me, so I had some protection. Anyways, we walked out the doors to the student car-rider pick up line. My grandmother on my father's side always picked us up
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.
And he hasn’t made a visible effort to contact me. I remember when I was little and thought that my father could do no wrong. He walked on water and it was always my mother that was the so-called “bad guy.” It never clicked in my mind that he could be human and make mistakes. There is a book by a man named Herzog titled Father Hunger: Explorations with Adults and Children. After eighteen years of being raised by a single mother, I relate to this book; I now realize that many aspects in this book describe me. The term “Father Hunger” means “the unconscious longing experienced by many males and females for an involved father (source 1).” That said, I can now see that during the limited, short amounts of time I’d spent with my father as a child, I was yearning, hungering for his approval and acceptance. That acceptance and approval was never received though. Maybe becoming a father at seventeen years old was too much to handle. Maybe now he is trying to live out his stolen youth. I can’t hold that against him. However, I will always be bitter that my mother never got that
Trusting men with my heart was no longer an alternative. Installed inside me was the dread of deserting. At the point when possible good examples were available or when father and child occasions would come up I would discover a reason not to run with good examples. That was one of my got to self-preservation instruments that I utilize not to give individuals a chance to draw near to me. On the off chance that they attempted; I would blame them for by one means or another selling out me with no proof of disloyalty. My self-protection instruments were to push individuals away and not confide in them with my heart. This one time, I sat on the back patio with my mom, it was a dazzling invigorating night, and a portion of the area children was getting fireflies as they lit up the night sky. I revealed to her how I felt about my father relinquishing us however above all how he forsook my two more younger siblings and I. I disclose to her that I felt that my dad was dismissing his obligations as a father and how much I thought that he was a quitter. I went on my tirade for no less than 45 minutes not knowing how much hurt and disdain I had developed for him within me; I was a ticking time bomb just waiting to implode. My mom just tunes in to me and enable me to continue venting until I was crying and asking God what did we do. What exacerbated
The reason why I think my dad chose not to be around, so much is one sided. All I have is to go off of what my mom has told me. So, without getting into major details, and based on what my mom has told me, I feel like my dad was not around because of anger towards my mom. He was so angry with her that he decided to take it out on his kids. That was not fair to me because he was not giving me a chance, but just giving up because of the stubbornness that creates him. Not coming around must have been something he got comfortable with over time. I also feel like he had so much things he wanted to accomplish in his life that we may have slowed him down. He has accomplished a lot in his life, and I am so proud of him for all that he’s doing because he’s very passionate about what he does, but he took that chance away from my mom. I know my mother loves us dearly and does not regret having us, but since she was forced to raise us on her own, some of her dreams got put on hold.
Because of my dad and Jackie had a kid together, Jackie still comes around. And she keeps trying to get back together with my dad, but I won’t let him. So every time she comes over she won’t even say hi to me because she doesn’t like me. Which is fine because I don’t like her. And I’m at the age now where I’m not scared to say what I want to her, and she won’t do anything about it because I will swing on her if I have to. Also, my parents still hate each other and they both always talk bad about one another. I don’t like that because then it makes me create opinions and pick which parent I like better. And my and my dad always get in arguments, sometimes they get really bad. When they do get really bad my dad will start talking about how he never gets to see me. I will say well that’s not my fault, and he will say so it’s mine? I say yes it is because it’s not my fault you and mom got divorced. I hate when those types of arguments happen because sometimes I accidentally say something bad that my mom said about my
About a month before my dad passed away me and him were doing garden work and he asked me to do almost everything from him. I would do it but I would turn up my music and try to ignore him. This was before my family and I knew that he was Sick and he was hurting. By me not wanting to help him with anything it strained our relationship near the end and every day I hate myself for doing that to him especially since he did so much for me with boy scouts, band, choir and just teaching me life lessons that I just ignored.This is my biggest monster not helping around the house and not listening to my
When thanksgiving had come around, we left to a cabin in Hocking Hills for a week. My grandparents, Tom, me, my sister, and my mom all went together and it was large enough to fit all of us. Now letś backup a little bit, at this time my dad, Adam had developed Pancreatitis. This is an inflammation and scarring of the Pancreas. Leads to severe vomiting, nausea, severe weightloss, weight gain, and death. Some patients develop multiple total organ failure. In the time my dad was in the hospital we grew closer than we ever had been, and I can now say my dad is my rock. He is my light in the darkness. I have become very defensive of him. Back to the cabin. My mom and sister were doing each others hair when I walked in for a towel. Julie made a comment about my dad, and I fired off instantly and lost my cool. Screaming ensued, along with threats and name calling. Thirty seconds later I told them I was moving into my dads. I had wanted to move in with him a long time, but it was also a choice I always pondered at first. Was I really ready to leave a part of me behind? Was I ready to turn my back on those I had once called family. In the time following the events at the cabin, I learned many things about my Mom and
I couldn't tell my Dad what I saw because he wouldn't believe me. He always took her side in everything and that constantly frustrated me. A few weeks after this incident I came home after school and half of everything was gone. She had left and it was because she moved in with this guy that she had been texting. My Dad didn't take any of this well. He was sad and depressed and out of it. I stepped up and was the parent to my younger sisters for awhile. It hurt me but I had hoped that my Dad would wake up and realize that I was right and that I’m the one who will always be there and that truly loves him. He never realized that though because two weeks after she left he let her come back. I decided to give her another chance because I wanted my Dad to be happy. That didn't work out to well though. She just went back to her old ways of making me feel rude and disrespectful. My Dad constantly sided with her like always even after everything she put us through. I decided to stand up for myself and I left to go live with my Mom. Neither of them were happy about it but I couldn't deal with them
For this project I decided to tackle a very sensitive topic. I decided to use this paper as a reason to speak to my dad. My father and I have never really had the best relationship, he was in my life when I was young for a couple of years before he disappeared again. When I was around 12 or 13 he resurfaced and added me on facebook. Since then him and I have had a very minimal relationship. We talk about once or twice a month and I have seen him four times over the last eight years. This summer I went to his house for a week and was hoping that he and i could finally talk about the reasons why he disappeared and why he had not reached out to me sooner. Unfortunately that wasn't a discussion that happened this trip. My two younger brothers
During my parents ' divorce, I had learned things no eighth grader should need to know about my parents relationship. The way I viewed my dad changed dramatically based on his efforts to maintain a relationship with me and my sister and his mental health. When I was about to start my freshman year in high school, my dad had officially lost all hope of trying to redevelop a relationship with me. We had family out from his side to celebrate my sister, Olivia’s, communion. To me, it seemed like everything was fine and there was no tension between anyone, however at the end of the ceremony my mom was left in tears and everyone was upset after my dad had yelled at the priest, causing a scene, then leaving the church.
It was May 17th, 2011, it was a normal school day when my brother and I were told that my mom called to say that she was picking us up early. I was anxious, wondering why we were going home early and breaking our usual routine. When my mom came to get us, the first thing that I noticed was that she didn’t greet us with her usual smile. I was 9 years old, very observant, but not able to sense what was to come. We got into the car, when I asked my mom where we were going hoping
I was a normal person living in a normal house in a normal neighborhood. I had a normal job working as a youtuber.I was living this life until one call changed everything. My brother called me, he said that our mom was in the hospital. On my way to the hospital i wasn’t really worried because my mom always says she’s sick when she’s not. I went in the patient room where my mom was, and i saw my brothers face, he didn’t look happy. And i knew something bad was going on. The doctor told my brother that my mom could have some kind of virus in her stomach . But what we didn’t know was that it wasn’t a virus, it was something worse.
It was a cool Sunday morning in the summer month of August. My brother was getting his senior pictures taken. My family and I were all laughing and having a great time together. Later in the day, I went to dance choreography while my dad and brothers went on a four wheeler ride with their friends down in the muddy and rugged creek near our house. Usually after dance choreography, my mom comes to take videos and pictures of our dance, but our session ended and she was not there. That is when I began to sense something was wrong as the normal became abnormal. My friend’s mom told me she was picking me up because my dad had been in an accident and was flown to the hospital in St. Louis. Immediately, I began to cry, but my caring dance teacher and loving friends comforted me as I left for the St. Louis hospital with my friend
November 18, 2016, a regular day that started without having any outstanding qualities to it. The day dragged out just like the previous ones before. When I got home from school, a sense of unease and discomfort enveloped me. The atmosphere was thick in tension and uncertainty. I couldn't figure out what it was that caused the usual pleasant environment of my home to be a space filled with mystery. I overheard my mom’s conversation on the phone. At that moment, the mystery as to why discomfort was looming in the air was diminished. She walked in my room and told me that my cousin was in a bad car accident. I asked if he would be ok and she answered with a simple “I don't know”, but her foggy eyes answered a stern no. From that moment on, my life was altered completely. Even though I wasn't given a direct answer as to the condition of my cousin, my instincts knew better. We went to his parent’s house the next day. As I walked in, I looked around reminiscent of the days spent there with family full of happiness and sunshine gleaming through the living room window. Now all that was left was a gray room filled with people I barely knew crying for the loss that we all endured. As I sat in the living room in shock, I tried to contemplate and collect my thoughts, but I couldn't. My mind felt like a town after the effects of a category 5 tornado and my eyes felt like a tsunami had just harshly caressed my tear ducts. I sat there enveloped in grief left with nothing but emotions that