Many people define “family” as blood, and that being so, many people feel ethically trapped within the concept of choosing family over everything. As a rational-thinking human being, I'd like to disagree with this entirely on the premise that “family” means nothing more than blood. A metaphor to best reword this would be to compare family to a mass of cancer cells in your body; they are still a part of your body, despite their usually detrimental and even lethal qualities. Cancer cells to your body are as family is to your wellbeing; just because something is connected to you, doesn’t mean it’s necessarily healthy or even necessary to keep around you.
Poison, toxins, parasites. They can all inhabit and invade our body via many mediums and bodies. The two that infected me went hand in hand. Alcohol and the poisoning by another human being; my father.
The order of your birth might not seem at all related to environmental awareness. I’m sure there are plenty of only or eldest or middle children with just the same level of concern as me. However, for me, I’m well aware that arriving third has had a large impact on my mindset.
"My daughter can't say her ABCs or count higher than ten. She writes her B's as D's and sixes as nines," I informed my daughter's preschool teacher.
Mothers make the world go round with their love, passion, patience, and dedication. The world wouldn’t be same without them. They deserve to be celebrated everyday because they sacrifice and give so much more than what they are credited for. Bringing a child into the universe is never a walk in the park, but they all gracefully embrace the process—some not just once, but several times. What I admire most about them is that they see the beauty of bringing forth new life—despite the challenges they may have to face in the whole process mode, instead they count it all worthy. All mothers, we appreciate you and we love you, no words can ever describe your worth in what you do. For every single mother who’s having to go through it alone, we applaud you. We all know bringing a child into the world is only the beginning. Raising a child is a form of courage, gently leading them down the right path takes implacable strength. Especially when their father doesn’t want to know or isn't involved in their children’s lives. All of these processes that mothers go through require great strength of purpose, grace, patience, consistency, perseverance, and wisdom. For all men who are aware of their responsibilities, who have still decided not to get involved, I hope one day there will be a change of heart before it’s too late. A child naturally runs to his/her mother for comfort and to their father for protection; we have to understand why that structure is there. The dynamics are there to help all reach their full potential—not to say there will be no functionality without the other, but there is always the best person to pour the oil for something to set into motion. Women with all their strength and capabilities are limited because they are not meant to do it all by themselves.
Stay-at-home motherhood is arguably a full-time job in its own right. With the number of women in the workforce increasing at a consistent rate, it's no longer a shock that the correlating number of women staying at home to commit entirely to motherhood has decreased.
I was never going to write this for the public. This is the main reason I will not put your name, but I have a feeling that if you are reading this then you know who you are. A few days ago I was heated that you found out what I did and, you being you, decided to make it clear that you could spy on me whenever you like. I wanted to write a hate speech about you, have the world see how despicable you really are. Yet, I realized that this would make me just like you, and I'll never let that happen.
I look on my past and see the anger of a mother that abandoned us, and a father that didn't really teach the lessons I was looking for, the lessons I needed. A father that was emotional, but never in a good way. A father with stories that were violent and never really about the good he created. I can only remember stories of high school fights and girls, and well, us and my mother. The way he acted was always with authority, but with a smile. He was a people person and he pushed those ideas onto me. Being able to talk on the phone, talking with family and friends, but really I never knew how. I was awkward—well, I sort of fell into it.
Once we were moved into 8341 Henry Circle and settled, it was time to explore new surroundings.
If I can tell you one thing: people do not change. You can put years into a false hope only to be met with harsh reality. You can’t make people become what you need them to be. It just bites even harder when it’s the people you love.
Many of the topics in this article are very controversial, so read with an open mind, please.