parents
The boundless love a parent has for their child is matched only by their capacity to embarrass them.
Life as a Daughter of Agent Orange, Part 8
Wow. That is about all I can say when I looked and saw how long it has been since I last shared Part 7. I will eventually get to why it took so long, but suffice enough to say it had to do with my dad's health problems as well as a surgery my mom underwent (both are fine right now, though!). The first order of business I wish to tackle is to explain my subtitle: "A Chemically-Forced Submission in a Self-Absorbed World." I believe in the commandment to honor one's father and mother; to me, that is to be respectful, serve them with love, and submit to them regardless of one's age. By "submit," I mean there are times when their needs are greater than my own and, out of love, I put my needs in a "later" box. Note how I say the word "love" and not include "respect." There are not a lot of moments where I respect my dad after all that has happened, but I do respect him as a fellow human being as as the person who sired me. Agent Orange required me to put my needs on "pause" so early in life, long before I had the maturity to understand, that it felt like a forced submission. Only in recent years have I learned how to not have it be forced, but done in kindness and love.
By Elizabeth Kozlowski8 years ago in Families
Step-Momming
Being a step-mom is hard. It can be thankless, and exhausting, and enlightening, and beautiful all at the same time. You don’t always know when to speak up, because you’re afraid of stepping on toes. You don’t know how hard to discipline sometimes, because you don’t want to cross a line. You’re terrified of hurting more than you help.
By Madison Elliott8 years ago in Families
An Open Letter to My Mother
I want to start by saying I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that, throughout my childhood, I took you for granted. I took you being there for granted. You were, and still are, the best mother a girl could have. You taught me how to cook, how to live, and defend myself.
By Destinee Howard8 years ago in Families
The Beginning
When we were kids, we couldn't wait to grow up. To turn 16 and get our license. To graduate school and go to college, or get a job and move out on our own. We believed when we were kids by the time we were an adult we would have it all figured out. We would know what we want and where we were going and if we were lucky to share it with someone. To have them share their life with us as we grow up together. Sometimes, we aren't so lucky, though.
By Shyann Katz8 years ago in Families
My Dad Is Mentally Ill
Today while watching an episode of ER, a sub-story triggered a long held memory. A sixe-year-old boy had just found out his mother was a paranoid schizophrenic, and although just a show, I felt his sadness to my core... because I too, have lived this life.
By Crystal Pineda8 years ago in Families
Dear Dad
From a young age little girls are told that their dads are their first loves. It is a connection that we are told no one will be able to replicate. But what happens when that same man who we believe will love us forever breaks our heart before any other man has the chance to? I am one of those girls.
By Baylie Cole8 years ago in Families
A One Parent Child
They say there are two sides to every story but this is from a child’s view, a third side to this story. I have never grown up with any sort of male influence in my life. It’s always been me, my mom, and my little brother. I don’t know who my father is. I have nothing. Not for want of trying, but because no one is willing to listen to the cries of a broken heart. A void sits in my heart and has done for 27 years. I never really thought about having two parents when I was very small but then I listened to the other children in my classes and that’s when it hit me, I only have one parent. The other children would get excited to go on picnics or go to the beach with their mommies and daddies. I got excited if my mother would watch Saturday morning cartoons with my brother and I. I began to ask questions but my mother always shut me down, as a child I should be seen and not heard. When I was just 10 years old my mother admitted that my brother and I do not share a father, making us step brother/sister. Naturally I began telling people that we were not real siblings, to which I was repeatedly told off for. The world was already confusing me. The other children in my classes couldn’t understand why every Father’s Day I drew my mother a card. I didn’t want to be left out of all the fun, doing arts and crafts. As I progressed into high school my interest in my father dwindled as my studies and home life took up all of my time. I began asking questions again at the age of 14. This is when I was assigned a counsel lot in school and diagnosed with reactive depression and social anxiety. By 16 I was diagnosed with chronic depression and severe anxiety. My days were spent in darkness. I was bullied in school due to an undiagnosable skin condition I have on my face. Home life was no picnic either, the neighbors making comments about the amount of chores I was forced to do compared to my little brother. He is only two years younger than me but has always been the golden child, being a boy. Once I turned 16 I decided I wanted information about my father and I knew, by law, I am entitled to know at least his name. However, my mother thought differently and only told me he gave me up before I was born. The rest of my family think that my mom has no idea who my father is, there is also the illusion that my brother's father is also mine. My brother and I had a paternal DNA test done and proved we are not paternally related, only maternally. All I have ever asked is for his name since I was very small. Now, at the age of 27, it is no longer my priority to find him. If he knew how to find me and found me then I would give him that chance.
By Sydni Kasem8 years ago in Families
