Childhood
Growing Up Millennial
So, I've been noticing a trend lately among my generation. Those who have kids, are raising them more gently that they were raised and I totally understand why. The world is a horrible, scary place and they're preparing them to be tolerant and mindful and environmentally conscience.
By Mae McCreery4 years ago in Confessions
My Uncle is my Father
Hello, my name is Connie Goethe. I would like to tell you about my father. My birth father left before I was born, my Grandmother Dorthy and Uncle Cliff were there for my birth. My mother after I was out of the hospital, in Pocatello, Idaho. I was in there for 3 months, I was three month premature. My mother Hannah, could not afford the rent so she moved in with my Grandmother Dorthy and my Uncle Cliff he was trying to find customers, he was a carpenter and he had picked up work. My Grandmother was a nurse for Ivinson Memorial Hospital. While I was there as baby, I my uncle put me on his hand that I was the size of. He would be watch a football game and try not to wake me while he was watching a football game growing up was great. My and grandmother had moved to Craig, Colorado, after my Grandmother Dorthy had lost her job after drinking on the job. Because, she was taking care of a couple that had fell asleep with a cigarette in their mouth they did all that they could to save them. But they died on the table. My grandmother got a job as a waitress and my mother the post office. My uncle would always come to visit me and we would watch the Broncos play football. At the age of five the whole family and the neighborhood kids would play tag football. I would always take off walking and I would always be visiting the neighbor's dog Coca. I lived with my mother until I was molested at eight and was put into foster care and then my Aunt Carol and Uncle Cliff adopted me. They put through children's therapy. I was working along side my uncle who was now my father on my Aunt Johnny's ranch and she taught me that if you fall off a horse get back on a ride again. I fell off of Joe when I was gathering cattle for branding day. By the age of ten years old I had little brother that was cute as button and helped take care of him. I hated change diaper, I always asked Micheal
By Funny Kay4 years ago in Confessions
7 years
I grew up at the poverty level of standards put upon us. We never get to choose our upbringing, as sadly if I could've chosen mine. It wouldn't have been this way. I had split parents, never married just a casual hookup. It turned into an 18-year commitment to motherhood. But she chooses otherwise. The story I'm going to share is based on a moment in my life. A moment, I still haven't recovered from.
By Madison Caron4 years ago in Confessions
Life isn't always what it seems to be.
Trauma effects us all differently. The same situation can arise in someone else's life, but the trauma left behind varies from person to person. No one will understand the pain that you feel, not precisely. We are all living in the same place, but from different perspectives.
By Lauren Dee4 years ago in Confessions
Community
I was born in Pittsburgh Pennsylvania. I spent my childhood in North Braddock, PA to be exact. Pittsburgh is made up of a series of neighborhoods. Each one its own unique flavor. My parents Kathryn and James had a small apartment in Homewood when I came along. One of the many neighborhoods of Pittsburgh. Soon after that we moved to Silver Spring, Maryland. We didn't stay there very long. I believe I was just shy of 3 when we moved back to Pittsburgh. Pittsburgh is located in what is referred to as the tristate area. That includes Ohio and West Virginia. It’s also referred to as the gateway to the Midwest. It’s not far from a lot of states actually. Maryland, Virginia, Michigan, Kentucky as well as New York are just a few hours drive. Even Canada isn’t very far.
By Karolyn Denson Landrieux4 years ago in Confessions
A broken child
I woke up in tears from a nightmare, everything black and white. Unrecognizable people and unknown surroundings, only it wasn’t a dream at all. “Where’s my mother” I asked, The two men in dark shaded suits look down at me and say nothing. I knew I couldn’t do anything to get away, I knew my mother wasn’t coming back or that I would be seeing her again. All I knew is that it was over. That I had to learn to be alone, that I couldn’t speak without being punished. I realized that I wouldn’t be listened to, I wouldn’t be told I’m loved or that I’m beautiful. I had such fear I’d never recieve a hug again. I was certain I wouldn’t be me after this.
By Kaleesha 4 years ago in Confessions
A Broken Home
Everyone saw a happy, healthy family. But what I saw, was a broken home. If only walls could talk it have stories to tell you wouldn't believe. Stories even I didn't believe, till I lived them. I was always told the home you grow up in builds the person you become, it's true. This home built me...
By Christina Vance4 years ago in Confessions
He smothered my heart in smoke
I was only about 10 when i had met him, and all he did was ruffle my feathers and taunt me for my looks. I've always been an easy target for bullies or antagonists of my school because I was always, short, scrawny, and timid. And every time he saw me he'd point out one of these very things. He was the first actual bully i had ever dealt with in my entire life. Most kids would just say a mean thing or two and go on about their business. But he was different, more consistent, and aggravating. It was as if he lived his entire life to patronize me because he enjoyed my many reactions. On some days i'd cry, on some days i'd sulk, and on rare occasions i'd get angry. Like the time he threw wood chips in my hair, or when he pulled at my puffballs until my scalp was sore. Luckily after the 4th grade year was over, i never saw him again. Well for about 3 years, he was gone without a trace. He'd cross my mind from time to time, but he'd leave it as soon as he entered. At the time his existence held no meaning to me. I didn't know whether he was dead or alive, but that never really mattered to me to be quite frank.
By M4 years ago in Confessions
Dear Ma
Dear Ma, I have been trying to write you this letter for years now but never could finish it because it would remind me of the pain and disappointment I felt as a child. What's impressive is that it took Vocal Media to give me the push I needed or the motivation to get it done. Vocal Media is a platform for writers like myself from worldwide to share their stories and poems. I joined with hopes of becoming a well-known writer.
By Gabrielle Jackson4 years ago in Confessions
Bright Are The Stars That Shine. Runner-Up in Mother's Day Confessions Challenge. Top Story - June 2022.
Dear Mom, I'd give anything to see your reaction to my crazy tale, fifty-eight years in the making. Instead, it's just me, this keyboard, and the never-ending search for a worthy turn of phrase. I'd rather be holding your hand.
By Catherine Marie4 years ago in Confessions
