Social Constructionism In My Family

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My kids will have no blood related aunts or uncles. These are a few of the ways that social constructionism has predetermined how my parent’s choices will continue to affect generations down the line.
As previously illustrated in my genogram, there has been some tension within my family. Before my dad met my mom, he had a child with another woman. I knew of his existence from a young age, but I did not fully grasp the reality of the situation until I was a bit older. Coming to terms with the reality of my half brother was difficult for me. I was so accustomed to being an only child and I never considered anyone else suddenly appearing in the picture. It was only after I heard my brother’s story that I realized the importance of a father figure.
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Her aunt adopted her and they moved to the island of Saint Croix when she was 2 years old. She is a sister to nine siblings; 4 sisters and 5 brothers. She grew up in Saint Croix and attended college here at Southern Adventist University. Once she graduated, she moved to Miami, where we now live. She works as a human services trainer. My mom was so close with her adoptive mom that she called her “mom” and I called her “grandma.” I was often left to care for her on days I did not have school. I assumed the role of caretaker in a way. Things became more difficult when she developed Alzheimer’s. Her memory progressively got worse, and then her body became weaker. Eventually, she became mute and did not remember my mom or me. When she passed, it was hard for us especially because my biological grandmother passed about a year later and I had never met her. The bereavement process was unique in the sense that my mom had lost two mothers in such a short period of time.
My dad was born in Brooklyn, New York. He grew up there until he moved to Miami and attended Miami Dade College. He works as a case manager. I never knew much about my grandparents on my dad’s side. I vaguely remember my grandmother, but I never met my grandfather. He has one brother whom I refer to as “Uncle Mel.” Sometimes I wonder how life would have been different if I had actually met all of my grandparents. I hear stories of how people’s grandparents cook for them and make them presents, and I feel as though I never had the “true” grandparent’s

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