Family
Random Ramblings
“Hey, so you want me to buy you cigarettes?” were the first words that came out of my mouth, after I had called my brother, after he had messaged me on a December evening. I was ready for bed, turning down for the night when the Whatsapp notification pinged me into action. I’m not much of a social media user so whenever I receive a message, I get a little excited. A little energy flows and agitates my teeth, I start blinking rapidly, twist to get into a more comfortable position and turn on my phone.
By Nathan Man4 years ago in Confessions
Mom’s Act Of Cruelty
My name is Dorothy, it’s 1967 and I’m five years old. I live in Future City outside the small City of Cairo, Illinois. It’s a peaceful place with some neighbors having rabbits, goats, chickens and hogs. There’s 2 stores and 2 churches and lots of other children to play with.
By Ravinia Roxann4 years ago in Confessions
Sticking with Integrity
Episode 5 of the STARZ Original, Power Book II took Tariq through an emotional high & immediate low, all in the last 10 minutes of the show. Tariq St. Patrick is a college kid, in the scene, he’s in a court hearing trying to get custody of his sister, Jasmine, after their grandmother’s alcohol abuse left Jasmine in foster care. Tariq wants to keep his family together and gets granted temporary custody.
By Zeneida Sanz4 years ago in Confessions
Surreptitious
I’m going to tell you my biggest, darkest secret. And it’s not pretty. I hated my baby. To be entirely honest, Im terrified. Why am I sharing this? Well, because I think that it will help me but maybe also someone else if they ever felt the way I did. A little back story, I’ve never wanted children. At least not my own biological ones. I love kids. I have a lot of younger siblings, five to be exact, and I loved spending time with them.
By Tiffany Fairfield4 years ago in Confessions
Faith, Love and Betrayal
There are a few stories within any given life that merits full disclosure. This, I believe for me, is one of them, and all of what I’m about to tell you is unabashedly true. But, to be sure, I wouldn’t expect anyone to follow in my footsteps. Each of us is to be led by the beating purpose of our lives. The following story is mine, and by choosing to be a part of it, I’ve steadily grown to be further understood and exemplified by it. Now, I’ve fully embraced it because it has become a part of who I am, and I’d do nothing else to change it if I realistically could. For what I’ve come to personally know, embodying an authenticity requires digging deep and being gripped in a kind of death, before knowing how to rise from the ashes and live.
By Jesse Chen4 years ago in Confessions
NOWHERE TO TURN
No one cared about what I thought all they cared about was my body and how they can get a peace, no one cared about how I was feeling they just cared about getting a thrill. Growing up if I didn’t let my father touch on me sexually, he would beat me. Rather I fell asleep in my bedroom or in the living room he would find me, he always had on a black bathrobe with his black leather belt in the pocket of the bathrobe. if he heard One sound, one word, or One peep from me as he was fondling my nine-year-old body he would pull his belt out in strike me with it across my face.
By Domonique Gaffney4 years ago in Confessions
My Son Announced on Facebook that His Family Hates Him
Like all good parents, I have done nothing but love my son. His grandparents, aunts, and uncles love him too and have gone above and beyond to always show him. First class tickets to Manchester, England to watch Manchester United play? No problem. Hours and hours on the phone listening to his frustrations, anger, and anxiety? Anytime. Buying the exact gift specified no matter how high its price tag? But of course. Money for therapists, special classes, psychiatrists? Where do I send the check?
By Susan McCorkindale4 years ago in Confessions
Challenges with Nothing
Moving myself and my children into an unknown town and unknown surroundings can make things difficult, but to move into a dwelling that would surely be unfit for any family was not my idea of a good time. Electric went out every time it stormed, tornadoes went overhead like butterflies on steroids, and the water stopped running from the well near the dwelling, so hand pump it turned out to be. I realize that this sounds like really unfit surroundings, and believe me when I say that now I would fully agree, but at that time there was no money, and no home to go to. Hopelessness can be a hard thing unless you have experienced it yourself. Its hard to drag yourself out of it.
By Mary Ellen Hulburt4 years ago in Confessions
There’s no easy path, there are just strong feet
It's been quite some time, but here I am, sitting still on my stool, remaining unemployed. Having no source nor any form of income, I'm starting to see my savings running out - dripping faster than a broken faucet and draining quicker than a funnel.
By Raise Life Up4 years ago in Confessions
Family Fight
Many people say that blood is thicker than water, that family is all you have. To always forgive family no matter what, because they love you. “But he’s your dad.” Do you know that saying? That blood is thicker than water. Well here is the real saying, “the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb”. I learned the hard way about the true saying and how people twisted it to their own advantage, here’s the story of my father betraying me.
By Kristina Brule4 years ago in Confessions
The boy who lost his bathers
Child abuse can come in many forms, sometimes as a deliberate act and sometimes out of ignorance and love, unfortunately in my case the latter was true and too much love had almost been responsible for the demise of my young life. But how can too much love be detrimental, can you kill someone with kindness? My mother doted on me her youngest child and some would say she spoiled me, unlike my older sibling who was now into his late teens I was unplanned I’d just turned 10 and was seen as my parents little miracle, the apple of my mothers eye, an unexpected gift from the Gods she would tell everyone. There is 8 years between myself and my older sibling who has already left home to house-share with his fellow Uni student friends. So she wrapped me up in cotton wool, doted on me and tried to protect her little ‘soldier’ from the dangers of life. She would still be wiping my backside for me if she could, she still tries to clean behind my ears and if she could would brush my teeth for me every morning, nothing was too much trouble for her miracle child. She would knit jumpers for me, make sure I had all the up to date designer trainers, branded tops and as every ten year old child needs the latest haircut, to say I was spoilt would be an understatement I was surely teetering on the edge of child abuse and was definitely in danger of being killed with kindness. To add further strain on my forth coming demise my mother had decided as a surprise to knit a pair of personalised bathing trunks for me for my upcoming school trip to a remote beach in North Wales. Now the Welsh coast can be rather chilly in October and to describe it as a beach is a little confusing as the word beach conjures up visions of long white sandy expanse and the so called beach the school was intending to visit was actually a pebble beach, there was no sand just a grass verge were you could set up and have a picnic with space to put some chairs and place your towels which then falls away and leads on to 15 yards of pebbles which had to be crossed before merging into the Irish sea. Our teachers set up some wind breaks along the grassy verge which gave the students protection from the elements as well as privacy to change into our bathers before attempting the ordeal of traversing the rocky mine field. My newly knitted bathers looked spectacular, deep burgundy with two white stripes that ran vertically down the sides and were kept up by a brilliant black, red and yellow snake belt. I was ecstatic about my bathers they were warm but best of all they were adorned with the most exquisite multi-coloured snake belt, my mum had done me proud. The school group had now all changed into their bathers and one by one gingerly left the safety of the grass verge and began crawling over the pebbles oohing and grimacing as we attempted to reach the waters edge with the words of encouragement penetrating the wind coming from the teachers who by now were well and truly wrapped up in their deckchairs offering advice ‘get in you wimps the waters not cold’ Well, I learnt a big lesson that day in fact I learnt three big lessons, one that my teachers don’t always tell the truth, secondly woollen trunks don’t work in water and thirdly the Irish sea isn’t cold, it’s bloody freezing. Standing waist high in the icy waters my quivering lips began turning blue while it took all of my concentration to keep my bathing trunks from completely disappearing into the depths of Davy Jones locker. It soon dawned on me that the bathers my mother had knitted for me were not up to the job of affective and efficient swimwear, sure while on dry land they looked amazingly smart especially with the snake belt accessory but they had now proven to be as big a danger as the iceberg was to the Titanic. Another lesson learnt wool apparently retains and soaks up water like a sponge and as I struggled to turn around and find the safety of the pebbles I felt himself being dragged deeper into the freezing water and unable to take another step as the woollen trunks became like a knitted anchor strapped to my waist. There could only be one answer to my problem I had to abandon ship or to be more precise drop and kick off the woollen menace that clawed at my torso if I was ever going to make it back to the safety of the pebbles, after all nakedness no matter how embarrassing was a better alternative to drowning. As I tried to escape from the icy depths all thoughts of looking cool and imitating Daniel Craig emerging from the ocean in Casino Royale had diminished and had now been replaced by the sad image of myself with blue lips, shivering as I felt my testicles retreating so far into my naked body I was sure I had two lumps protruding from my neck. The immediate danger of drowning had now subsided as I stumbled my way towards the stoney shoreline minus my woollen anchor, but alas further peril awaited upon reaching the water’s edge for as I stood there as naked as the day I was born the little matter of crossing 15 yards of sharp pebbles needed to be traversed before the safety of the grass verge and a warm dry towel could be reached and freedom from danger truly achieved. As difficult as it was I managed to cross that rocky outreach while clinging on to what was left of my manhood and avoiding complete naked embarrassment. As I struggled to dress with numbed digits and the howls of laughter ringing in my ears I finally began to thaw out and my blue lips thankfully returned to a more healthy shade of pink and the feeling was now slowly returning to my fingers and toes. The imaginary lumps in my throat had returned to their normal position and the giggles from my peers and sadly this included my teachers began to subside, I finally left that North Wales coast along with my school group a slightly embarrassed but wiser young man minus one pair of lovingly knitted bathers and a rather smart snake belt.
By Roy Travers4 years ago in Confessions
