In 2010 I was a person who was unsure about all the aspects of my life. I felt as if life had no meaning to it. I was afraid of what the future held for me due to the fact that it never seemed to be clear to me. I had no education goals whatsoever, I was extremely unmotivated to succeed in life. I never valued anything that I had, that being the love my family and friends gave me and all the personal belongings that my parents provided me with.…
I was ten years ago and I can still vividly remember sitting on an old, wooden rocking chair while the words of The Very Hungry Caterpillar trembled off my lips to a room full of second graders. I can recall the eagerness and excitement that filled their little faces as I flipped from page to page. There was an abundance of curiosity and desire to learn in that classroom that made me happy that I decided on skipping recess to read to the younger students. There was a fire that lit in my ten-year-old body that day. That was the day where I finally had an answer to all the “What do you want to be when you grow up?”…
The Truth of Growing Up As a child all I wanted to do is just grow up and be an adult. As I grew older and taken on more responsibilities, I realized that growing up is not all that exciting and is actually difficult. In the final year of high school when college is the big stress, all the teachers want is to prepare us for the long papers, difficult tests and more stress. In the back of mind I’m thinking, wow this is going to be stressful, I don’t want to go to college anymore. Well my wish came true…
I was 13 years old, just starting off high school, when I realized what this dark cloud that’s been floating over me for the past couple of months really is. It wouldn’t be until more than a year later until I seek out professional help. It started off innocently enough as just a feeling of constant emptiness at the pit of my stomach. It slowly turned into randoms bouts of extreme rage, where I’d take out my anger physically, not just on the walls and mirrors of my childhood home and not just on my family, but on myself. I couldn’t understand why I felt this way, why I wasn’t “normal”.…
However, because my childhood was filled with rules and regulations for being a "respectable young lady", I never had the chance to throw rocks at a hermit 's house, cackling as I shattered windows. I was never allowed out after dark, I could not say the word "sucks", and if I back talked so help me I was running from dish soap. Then I cried a little... shocker. Friends came and past, once a year at least, I mean, all I wanted to do was act like a horse and run around the playground in elementary school. No wonder I did not have…
I remember seeing the reflection of my room through the giant mirror on our hallway wall. My mother was in the bathroom, she was preparing for a night out - she had on the best pair of black leather ankle boots -- yet I nagged her to talk about my dad. I was seven years old when my mom told me the story about death of my father; although, I’ve never gotten the full details until I was sixteen years old. Before that age, I usually created my own scenarios and scenes on how the tragedy happened. After those moments I’d often find myself very unhappy, I would focus my thoughts on a person I care dearly for but know nothing about.…
But anyways going back home , all my aunts , my grandma they all told me a lot of stuffs , but I didn’t care I made it , I didn’t care about anything , I was on my own world, I did whatever I want it , but not everything was like I thought it was not everything fun maybe the first couple of weeks , having a house just to myself, to do whatever it was a big responsability , more when my parents just didn’t want it to send me money because I was on wrong lane , doing what I didn’t supposed to, everything you guys are thinking I Did , I Probably Did it. When that happen I had to get into business with people , I started repairing cell phones , computers , and buying and selling them in a higher price , I was making enough money , to buy myself stuffs , have my refrigerator full , paying my bills , such as internet , cable , water and electricity . It was not an easy job but I was finally acting like a man , and starting to recognize all the things the my parents have done for me , so I could have everything I want , maybe in a slow pace but they still always bring everything we need in our…
I kindly accepted that those people were my siblings. They were all part of my family, but I felt an immense distance. Whitney had her own mother standing by her. My eldest sister and brother shared the same mother, whom I never saw before.…
My Birth Story Birth stories have a lasting impact on expectant mothers. Recognizing the influence of birth stories is a key component of informal communication of knowledge about childbirth for expectant mothers. The goals of the birth story interview and discussion are to provide an opportunity to explore the sharing of a birth story as a critical way of knowing within the family and community, and also to promote understanding of the prenatal period and taking-on of the parental role. The topic of storytelling is important to nurses and families, as it allows the integration of the nurses’ experiences into their future nursing practice, which may be invaluable in facilitating authentic and meaningful connections with their patients.…
It was a Saturday morning March 17, 1996 I was eight months in my mother’s tummy and my due date was in mid April. Uncle Benito had the crazy idea of going to the snow all because my mother had never seen the snow. My mother told me of a hill she sled down from, a great slope that didn’t leave her feeling to good “No me siento muy bien.” My uncle rushed her to Granada Hills Hospital on the morning of March 19, 1996; I was born seven pounds at eight minutes until eight.…
I documented the children and assessed them after I demonstrated the project first. I stood back and watched the children not talking to them and listened. They were talking among themselves and saying what they thought would happen next. Children would even say the things I did as I presented the project. After sometime I asked the children what they were doing to hear their responses.…
When I was an adolescent….. My world was turned upside down when my parent’s marriage started to fall apart. They turned to alcohol and became very withdrawn. At the age of 14, my life went from sports, school and friends, to all about shielding my younger sisters from the ugliness of our lives, salvaging my family’s reputation and making sure us kids had what we needed. What was a challenge?…
When I was young, everything was consistent. I didn 't think of the future, and was content with the way things were. Everything changed that eventful afternoon when my mother told me that we were moving. I felt confused not knowing what the move entailed. Moving houses meant I had to go to a new school, something I’ve never done before.…
Many people grow up having a normal childhood, I being one of them. I grew up living in a warm, and welcoming household with my mother, father, and older brother. As a child, we all thought we had no worries in the world. Everything was peaceful and taken care of by our parents. We all eventually grow up, and have to become more responsible.…
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.…