immediate family
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Silencing An Angel's Cries
Silencing an Angel’s Cries If only someone who have taken the time to listen, to actually care. Instead, all that my loving sister received from her parents, from her own children, from her husband was ridicule, blame, called an alcoholic, pushed her away, sent her away to get help, sheltered her, locked her away from the world, and all that I did, was pay attention, listen to her words, went for a drive, had some laughs, had some cries, but, not once did I ever put her down, put blame onto her like everyone else did. And what did I get? Isn’t it all obvious what happened to me at the end?
Paige KostyniukPublished 4 years ago in FamiliesMy Life Story
My Life. It all begin in October 1977, my mother was walking home with me I was 2 years old, my dad approached my mother she was in her way home from babysitting for my auntie and asked her to give me to her, she said no Bobby, go be with the other women you have pregnant. My dad got upset and starting hitting my mom while she held me and he threw her on the ground and got on top of her, I was in between this at the time I don’t remember anything but I was told by family that a woman said he threw her so hard against her house her pictures fell off her wall. And when she came outside she saw a man in top of a women with a baby in between them. And that was the key witness in the case when my mom was charged with murder in self defense. My mother was 19 years old at the time so was my dad 19 as well. So my mom I was told had a seam cutter and she held it up towards him and he leaned down on it and killed himself according to forensics. That’s what I was told and it was verified by my mom she doesn’t like to talk about my dad or what happened, so I got information from my family. As far as I remember I had a good childhood until my mom started doing drugs. And I was constantly getting beat with extension cords, hangers, belts, anything phone cords .And after my siblings were born I got treated worse she said she had new kids now and I wasn’t part of the family. And my uncle was beating me too. I was in my room as usual listening to music and my mom and uncle busted in my room telling me turn the music down. It wasn’t really loud they were just high and drinking and always picked on me. So I ran away at 14 my uncle chased me and he slapped me I ran to my grandmother house a few blocks away. My grandmother said don’t touch her again this not your child. After that I remember moving in with friends from my school and I told them I was going to my grandmother house and I left and never saw them for years. When I got to my grandmother house my dads mom I was happy . But then the abuse began years later out of nowhere my Auntie and my 2 uncles treated me like shit they said they hated me, I was a yellow bitch and my mom killed they brother. I had never knew that, I heard a woman say it years ago but I ignored it I was like 10 years old I can’t remember I just remember my mom fighting a woman and she said your a murderer! How you gonna explain to your daughter that you killed her father. I just froze I was looking out the window with my friends next door and they heard it too and they just looked at me like what? I was like I don’t know. My other auntie and 2 uncles never abused me they loved me the other 3 just started doing drugs and changed on me.they all used to spoil me my whole family did until drugs took over they minds. So growing up I was very afraid to talk to people I was afraid people would know about my mom and my dad but I didn’t know they did everybody from back then knew. I was always looked at and asked questions growing up. Then my mom changed on me and started abusing me verbally, physically,emotionally, and financially she just was crazy at times. Once she pulled my hair out from the roots so hard my scalp was bleeding, she bit me in my back, and when I turned 18 I was pregnant with my first child and she was also pregnant, I forgot to mention how I got back there from my grandmother’s. Well my uncle the same one who chased me those years ago camecsnd got me I don’t know how they knew I was at my cousins for a while but he came and said ya mother is having a baby and you have to come help her. So I left and that’s how I ended up back with my mom and I got pregnant she was 7 months I was like about 3 months. Well the whole pregnancy my mom fought me it was like hell again. One night my uncle tried to fight me again I was 4 months I had caught him tryna steak from my mom and he pushed me against the wall the neighbors heard and called police. They police did nothing they just said let him cool down he was leaving anyway with the shit he stole . So months later a lady from the neighborhood that gave everybody hell came in looking for her husband. I said you can’t be here my mom said nobody can come in, she said I’m not going anywhere. At this time I had enough of everything and everybody so I threw my moms rooster statue at her it missed by one inch. After that I got a stick and ran after her, I hit her several times the stick was bouncing off her head like rubbed it was weird. I stopped and she grabbed the stick out my hand and hit me across my back I was 8 months pregnant at this time. My grandmother and family came and she lied and said she never hit me as she was running up the street. So the next the this lady is dead she was killed and guess who police questioned? Me people said I was fighting her. I had to go to the station when I was ready they said call so I did. They showed me pictures of her dead body asking me did she look like that last time I saw her. I said hell no she was walking and talking last time I saw her actually she was running up the street. She was found rolled up in a rug with three fingers missing. I’m wondering how they think I could have done that, must be crazy. So one day a guy said a co worker was at work bragging about how he killed this bitch and cut her fingers off and put them in his freezer. So I was happy cause they were gonna try to put that shit on me I just knew it.soon after that on January 5 1994 I had my beautiful baby girl.
Lanisha Renee DanielsPublished 4 years ago in Families5 More Minutes, Mom...
After unexpectedly waking early this morning, unexpectedly finding myself speaking to someone quite interesting, instead of going back to sleep, I grabbed a plus-sized bowl of Little Miss's favorite cereal, which happened to be on the shelf at 'grannies' house.
Cancelling Christmas
As a 40 year old mother of two (18 year old son and 19 year old daughter) I have spent the better part of 20 years forced to celebrate a holiday that never really meant anything to me. Truthfully I’ve always hated Christmas. Even as a child. It always meant everyone getting anxious, worrying about money, how much food we had, how clean the house was for when surprise guests would stop by and how next months bills would manage to get paid. I absolutely HATED Christmas. Even Christmas music has always made me cringe. And of course everyone would always push me into the grinch or Scrooge pile and say I needed more Christmas spirit. Making me out to be the problem. Which undoubtedly only made me feel worst and then hate it even more each and every single year.
The Flaws in a White Picket Fence
Ever since I was young, my mother dreamed of owning a house with a white picket fence. She couldn't own one as a result of her poor credit, her score kept her from getting a lot of the things she wanted. The thing about credit score is that it excludes all the setbacks and unwanted issues that causes the score to go down. At the time, I believed that hard work and dedication would make one’s adult life easier, that my mother was only doing poorly because she wasn’t saving her money. My siblings and I couldn’t understand why my mother was struggling to make ends meet every month, why she would yell at us almost every day after work about our education, and why it’s important. Later, I found out that there was no money saved up because there was no money to save up at all. Since my mother was always working, I had limited freedom and wasn’t allowed to leave our apartment. My older brother had to take care of us at such a young age; due to my mother’s inability to pay for a babysitter. One would think that being isolated would increase productivity, but isolation felt like punishment to us.
Angel RivasPublished 4 years ago in FamiliesMy Family Keeps Comparing Me to My Older Brother, and I Hate It
I received the label of "financially irresponsible" when I was 6 years old. This coincided with the year I started school. I had never been to any sort of school setting before, no pre-school, no kindergarten, none of that in the early 90s. My first foray into school life was when I started Grade 1.
Olivia MoorePublished 4 years ago in FamiliesDiscovering My Brothers Had a Different Dad
My mother had two sons from her first marriage. I came along years later after she married my father. I was 6 years old when I figured out we had different dads.
Olivia MoorePublished 4 years ago in FamiliesThe Revenge Of A Former POG Owner
Siblings fight. It's inevitable. You ate the last cookie, you broke my favourite toy, you told mom, the variations are endless. Here is a story dear to my family and most family
Jaclyn MackayPublished 4 years ago in Families942 Miles
Nevada is an incredible place. It's the sort of thing that nobody realizes until they live here, and sometimes not even then. Most of Nevada is a vast, dry desert. At first glance, it can seem painfully, dully brown. On closer look however, the sun paints magnificent colors in the sky and speckles of colors exist everywhere if you know where to look for them. The quiet and the stars are magnificent.
Brittany NicolePublished 4 years ago in FamiliesFun Things to Do During a Snow Day
If your children are home from school because it is snowing too much to go, then you may be stuck with ideas to entertain them for the day. Here are some activities to do to stay warm and cozy, and make your snow day as fun as possible.
Kari OakleyPublished 5 years ago in FamiliesHate
To say the least, my life is a fucking train wreck at the moment as it has been for quite a while. I thought I may have had it all in check at sometimes, but it would always come crumbling down every time that thought ever entered my mind. Usually they say get therapy, or connect with nature, but what if your body, your soul and mind don’t allow you to do that, and each day spent in bed becomes the reason for this suffering. What do we do then? Not a single person’s words are going to help, be it good or bad ones. The bad ones just constantly hurt, and the good ones you're questioning yourself about. Like is this really true, am I really a beautiful, clever, and confident individual. This feeling leaves you questioning the slightest of things, as well as the most important ones, such as your own life.
unknown writerPublished 5 years ago in FamiliesDi the Book
Introduction Well I have always been told I should write a book about my life, or more accurately, "Gosh, you should write a book!" in a sarcastic tone. This sarcastic tone often comes after I have spilled great amounts of personal shit all over the floor in front of them or bared my soul like some sort of over emotional flasher—a weird oxymoron to behold I am sure. I tend to have to explain the whole story, I feel I have to start from the beginning or give the full story because otherwise I come off as even more of a psycho than I already do. I am sure this pattern is portrayed in the below sufficiently.
Diane CampbellPublished 5 years ago in Families