Family
What Happens When We Felt Unloved as Children
Some of us were born into the perfect families, with a mother and father who smiled adoringly at one another over the perfectly square breakfast. They engaged with one another and you could feel the love in the room. When the children spoke up they were given eye contact and their full attention; their heads bobbed up and down with every new inflection in their child’s words.
By Melissa Steussy4 years ago in Confessions
Letting Go of Perfect
Every day I find myself looking around at my house, my reflection, my LIFE, and mentally making to-do lists of all the things I “need” to take care of. There are piles of precariously leaning games, 647,982 pieces of precious art (aka scribbles that my kids didn’t want to throw away so they “gift” it to me), junk drawers overflowing with...well, junk, the couch cover (that hides our hideous but comfortable hand-me-down couch from the 90’s) that is never tucked in right, my kids’ closet that’s riddled with clothes that don’t fit, the laundry that is somehow either all dirty or all clean and waiting to be put away, there are random hair clips and “special” rocks all over the counter. The list goes on, and believe me, it does, because I am the one who makes the lists. They never end. I find myself careening between horror at what a clean-freak stranger would think if they walked in right now, and pretending that everything will be fine if I can just get to the weekend when I will certainly have time to whip everything into immaculate, Martha Stewart-worthy shape. But the reality is, I never have time to check off all the to-dos and must-take-care-ofs. I often wonder what life would feel like if I could suddenly become a hardcore minimalist (and drag my family with me, kicking and screaming). Then I remember that that too would take time; I would have to either go through all the shit laying around, or I would have to light it on fire and walk away like an action-movie badass. I think that HOAs frown on that sort of thing, though.
By Krystl Densmore4 years ago in Confessions
A letter for Dad
So here we are. You had a funny way of showing it, but this is what you would’ve wanted. I can’t help but feel like you knew. Your last bit of sanity was left for me. Your pessimistic attitude and apathetic, nonchalant actions were screaming louder than any words.
By Rambler's Society4 years ago in Confessions
Our Furbabies Are Our Biggest Supporters
Who needs medicine when there are cats? I have to say that my life is significantly better with cats in our lives. Our 2 cats names Marco and Marcia arrived in our lives more than 8 years ago. They are the best of friends and Marco, the big orange cat, loves to dress up for holiday occasions-- Halloween is no exception. I lucked out and found the very last 2 pet costumes at my local dollar store. In general, Marcia, the tortoiseshell cat, is more shy and more curious as to why I even bother to put on a costume for her as she knows nothing about this crazy holiday season.
By C C Farley4 years ago in Confessions
The Pain I Carry
Before getting started, I would like to announce that I will be briefly going over the pains I carry in my everyday life, which made me who I am today. To begin with, I would like to present my life story in a timeline fashion, or try my best to as my mind constantly runs over a thousand miles per minute. Now before I do get into anymore details I would like to introduce myself, my name is Nayequwan Williams, I am a father of three handsome boys, Adrian, Saint and Kailo. Adrian my oldest son which is five years of age , my middle son saint, three years of age and my youngest son Kailo which is seven months of age. i am also proud to announce I am a Virgo, as I was born on September fifteenth of nineteen ninety six. So at the age of thirteen I went through one of the most traumatizing experiences a kid could ever go through. Just to cut to the chase, I was living with my mom, the house was occupied with me my mom, my little sister and my moms boyfriend. At the time we was living in section eight. My moms boyfriend at the time name was Ricky Johnson. Ricky has a habit of putting his hands on my mom, So one day I hear them yelling, I walk down into the living room and I see them wrestling, or tussling as you’ll all would say. So thirteenth year old me was yelling “stop putting your hands on my mommy” he didn’t listen, therefore me panicking not knowing what to do, I had to think fast. I ran back to my moms room and grabbed a all black pistol. (not knowing it was a BB gun), after grabbing the gun I ran back into the living room and pointed at him and told him to let go of my mom or else. He then gave me that devilish look I could never forget. Then he stated, “oh you wanna play with guns huh! Okay I got you!. He then starts yelling at me and he rushes towards his bag to grab his all silver desert eagle. Me being a kid I took off into my room scared. After he grabs his gun I hear the gun cock back and he bursted into my room with the gun saying “you wanna die today! Give me one reason why I shouldn’t fucking shoot you. I’m screaming and crying in fear as he has a loaded gun pointed at my head as he is holding me down on the bed. My mom didn’t even budge to help me other than saying “stop it, he didn’t mean it” in a nonchalant voice. Well of course he didn’t pull the trigger because I’m still alive till this day and I have no problem saying this in my story but if I ever do catch him again, I WILL KILL HIM! With no hesitation nor care for the law, even though my record is still clean as a whistle. There has also been other times when ricky and my mom argued and one day he decide to lock my little sister in the room while holding the door. As me and my mom are fighting him to stop he finally called it quits and left, leaving me and my sister traumatized once again. I! Me personally! don’t promote violence but some people do deserve death for as it is earned not meant to be giving. Now before I get into the next stage of pain I would like to say me and my family don’t get along whatsoever, I am looked down upon as the black sheep of the family. I never had family support nor had my mom tell me she love me more than I can count on one hand. Also my mom pushed my dad away from me at a very young age and brainwashed me into hating my own dad. But will touch base more on my family later on in this story.
By Nayequwan Williams4 years ago in Confessions
My Brain, Behind the Scenes
I am just free writing, and letting go whatever things are mulling and brewing in my head. Some thoughts of possible stories, some do's and don'ts that add a pickling spice to the tossed salad of my psyche, and enough sweetness so as not to lose a very small and fragile audience.
By David X. Sheehan4 years ago in Confessions
The Odd Duckling
Mother-dear is dying and I want to tell somebody about it. I have a gnawing in my guts because she is so feeble. It is hard to believe that no family and none of her many friends are around to hear my complaint as she fades from life. My muddled thinking, plus feelings of guilt tend to color my mood darkly. I think family and friends would be here but-for my personal standoffishness. I think it's all my fault because I am a notorious stickler about minding my own beeswax. I am in my 70’s. I’ve learned that the last thing I want to do is manage your life and mine too.
By Ibraahiym Kadessh4 years ago in Confessions
Reasons I am Ready (And Not Ready) for School
This piece was originally published on my website. Now, it is here for your enjoyment. School is almost here. My older son will start Kindergarten next week. My younger one will start pre-school in a few weeks. This is a big time for both of my boys, though neither of them is really looking forward to it!
By Shelley Wenger4 years ago in Confessions
There once was a boy...
"There once was a boy, who had a dog, they went to a farm, ate a chicken, and then they went home." That's it. Nothing further, unless you count how many times this story has been told to my children at bedtime. You see, almost every night during their childhood, I told "mostly" original story — adventure tales, mysteries, spooky and silly stories and yarns yet to be classified. But with four kids with a span of 11 years from youngest to oldest, storytelling can be exhausting.
By Mike Farley4 years ago in Confessions
cOmE bAcK
The horrified scream that came out of my mouth repeats itself in my mind everyday. I try my best to blame someone else but I know it's my fault. How will I live with this? My favourite person is gone, and for what, to prove a point to me? A peaceful family vacation is all I asked for. After the year I had my dad felt it was owed to me to take me on a trip, so who am I to say no. Truthfully I don't know how he is paying for all of this, after all the therapists sessions and medication treatments I know we hit our limit and are in debt. After being diagnosed with depression everything in my life went by like a blur. Ask me to recall a memory and I will miss major details, apparently this is called “foggy brain”. My dad has been my primary caregiver after my mom got sick a few years ago. She's in a home and has know idea about what has been going on in my life but I think it's better that way. The more people that have to hear my shit is the more people who deal with my shit. I think my dad finally took my mental illness seriously when I tried to end my own life. Ever since he has not been the same with me, he says he wants to help understand me but won't sit down and have a conversation with me. This is why I feel this vacation is going to be weird but I appreciate what he's trying to do so I'm going to go.
By Deanna Pappas4 years ago in Confessions
