Looking back at the hundreds of kids I must have met, I nurture a lingering thought that I have been little more than a passing blip on a radar screen of their lives with no name and only the slightest shadow of a face or the outline of a memory, being cast as “insignificant extra # 2”. However, …show more content…
I left a part of myself in every town and every state, hoping that through my attachment I could stay and grow with the children there. Instead I was uprooted at every turn.
My sister and I were forced to move around from family member to family member, hoping that every new place would give us “stability”. We had hope. We had each other and that was our only constant along with the fact that our mother was very sick. Sick with addiction, a disease that infects the lives of the host and all of its relations. It shook the entire family and ruled our lives by affecting what we could say and do and how we lived. Our every action was to help our mom and so I endured and I adapted to every new situation and lifestyle.
One day, I helped my mother with a project for her job. The assignment was to create a curriculum on the definition of recovery. In an activity we designed, each person was to be given a clump of playdough in the color of their choice to mold into whatever shape they wanted. Then they would roll the dough onto a piece of tape which would catch pieces of the playdough and represent the hardships that we go through in life. The students’ job would be to reshape the dough into something unique