My First Childhood-Personal Narrative

One life, one childhood, and one adulthood is all we are given. Mom, this letter is for you and for my healing.

My youngest memory consists of sitting under the stairs in the first house that you had with your new husband. You and him were fighting, always fighting. I sat under the stairs terrified with my older brother, do you realize that I predicted your divorce years before it actually happened? Every time I spell that word “Fight”, I remember my brother teaching me. I wrote it on the small wooden divider that separated the laundry room from under the stairs in green marker. Yes I remember it that well. The busted up plastic drawers, the end of the dining room table getting broken clean off when that husband slammed his fists down upon it. …show more content…
The last thing my friends said to me was that they would talk to me later. I have tried telling you before about it and you keep telling me that I’m trying to guilt trip you. That is not the case, I’m just trying to let you know. I had no friends at school anymore, I turned to the one thing I could turn comfort to, sex. When you had gotten a boyfriend, I took the advantage of having the house to myself one night. I talked to someone online, gave them our address, and lost my virginity that night. After that point, I ended up in a friends with benefits situation with a guy I came to really like. You or your ex husband didn’t know him. I would sneak out of the house to go to him and have our private party. He made me feel cared for at the time, important. Were my actions as a teenager smart? No, I realize now that I have made my fair share of mistakes. I’ll admit to that. I turned sixteen, my morning started out with a fight between you and your ex and a door slammed in my face. Afterwords, I sent you off with your friends because I was going to be going out with my current boyfriend at the time to a fair. Instead, I spent almost the entire time at the house