parents
The boundless love a parent has for their child is matched only by their capacity to embarrass them.
Life as a Daughter of Agent Orange, Part 4
Well, after that previous part, I guess we are all still here! I never thought in a million years I would be sharing my story, let alone some intimate parts of how I dealt with the stress and upheaval. I know what I have gone through is for a purpose and a reason, but there are days and moments when I wish I could take a magic wand and make it all better. My late teens to early 20's were the years where I would wish that the most. During my last two years of high school, dad's side effects grew evermore fierce. It was getting to the point where he could not be in large crowds because just a tiny whiff of the wrong chemical makeup would cause his blood pressure to change dramatically and it would take a couple of days for his body to go back to normal (including his moods). Trying to get dad to come to my band and choir concerts was a chore on its own; I knew he could not handle the smells, but I still needed my dad there. The few he did not attend I spent the night watching and waiting for him to step into the gym's doorway (he would always stand in the lobby to be away from the smells) and my heart would sink when he never showed. My mom always came and later I found out that my desire to see dad there overshadowed what mom was doing; she was showing me she was there as both parents and did not receive thanks for it until years later. When it came to high school graduation, I flat out told my dad he would be there. In my mind if he did not attend, he was not proud of me. You could say I had a bit of Stockholm Syndrome at that time in my life; I thought I simply desired his approval, but I think it was more than that—I was trying to be who I thought he wanted me to be.
By Elizabeth Kozlowski8 years ago in Families
A Bracelet With a Name on It
All my life I had this bracelet. I looked at it occasionally and found myself wondering why I was looking at this silver men's bracelet. It was small for a man in my opinion. The name "Craig" was embroidered on the outside of this bracelet. The name Craig was stuck in my head since childhood. It was the name of someone evil, someone I have no memory of. The name Craig was my father.
By Jacquelina Cain8 years ago in Families
Life as a Daughter of Agent Orange, Part 3
I was quite unsure of which path to take this story down after part two; there are so many memories that are scrambling in my head and the emotions of each memory paralyze the nerves in my hands, preventing me from typing this next part. There is a video on Facebook showing a father teaching his little girl the right way to express her emotions, especially when she is upset. Whilst watching the video, I came to realize, if I had been taught as she has now been taught, my life would be completely different. I would not have bottled up over a decade's worth of raw emotions only to have it expressed in harmful ways such as cutting or having suicidal thoughts. I would also like to think that, if my dad had never been exposed to Agent Orange, I would have had a more stable emotional development. Some parts of my story may be shocking.
By Elizabeth Kozlowski8 years ago in Families
On Being a Runaway
Growing up, I lived a seemingly perfect life with a perfectly normal family. Everyone knew we were not high class, but definitely not low class either. We were religious, but in a respectful manner, not a pious one. All of my friends, as well as myself, were homeschooled and hung out just like "normal" 21st century American kids: playing games, calling each other names (that our parents would approve of... never cuss words), and getting into typical childish arguments (about God's vast, unpredictable universe and the meaning of His words in our manual, the Bible.) Everything was normal and great on the outside.
By Leia Martinez8 years ago in Families
Life as a Daughter of Agent Orange, Part 2
There comes a time in any situation where one has to wonder if one is going crazy because of outside forces. Since middle school I have often wondered if living with this Agent Orange version of my dad has influenced a few weak moments where the outside world would perceive me as crazy. Once we found out what was causing the mood swings and the diabetes, it was as if we had entered a special club that nobody knows about and nobody wants to be invited in to. There is a specific chemical my dad reacts to called formaldehyde; the reactions vary from horrible mood swings to having his blood pressure skyrocket. We quickly learned about which products had formaldehyde in them. I could no longer paint my nails, wear perfume, buy shoes that had a smell similar to jelly sandals, and could not buy certain shampoos and conditioners that combined with my own chemical makeup brought upon his attacks.
By Elizabeth Kozlowski8 years ago in Families
Life, the Universe, My Mother, and Everything—"Sugar in the Fridge"
Mothers. We all have one, love them or hate them, and they are a huge influence in our lives. My mother was no different. She was a Southampton lass, fearless, confident, funny... it's easy to see why Dad fell in love with her! She was also incredibly intelligent. She worked as a programmer for an insurance company and (aside from accidentally crashing the national systems a couple of times due to a coding error that wasn't her fault) was known for doing good work.
By NoraTheAuthor8 years ago in Families
Mommy Unedited
Parenting. The one thing that everyone is an expert on, until they have actually had to become one. I will be the first to admit, I was that person in the store looking at the toddler throwing a tantrum, thinking to myself, "Nope, not my kid," before I actually had a kid. I thought I knew all the solutions to problems I didn't think I would even have. I had it ALL figured out the moment I pissed on a stick and saw the double lines. Or so I thought.
By Edin Mirelez8 years ago in Families
My Mother the Fortune Teller
Look at her. Pay close attention, because every day there’s more to see. She shuffles her cards, and is one of not many I know who can smoke a cigarette without using her hands. The rooms to the ceiling fill with smoke, and three of four part-time roommates that stay here are losing patience.
By Winter Black8 years ago in Families
We Are Who We Choose
Often in life, we look at someone and say, “I’m not going to end up like that person.” Or “I’m going to do better than what I lived.” And saying that might be hard for other people to hear because we can’t undo the past, only make the future better. And those of us who have small children LITERALLY hold the future of the hands. When they fall down and reach for your hand, it is like a silent whisper asking for help. The voice of an angel that is calling out to you and asking your undivided attention. And as a mom of two, giving that attention isn't always easy.
By Heidi Sunshine8 years ago in Families
Things I've Learned from a Great Father About What Makes a Good Man
The things I’ve learned from a great father about what makes a good man are many, to be sure: honesty, hard work, generosity and a sense of humor. If you ask me about my dad, I’ll tell you these are his four most salient characteristics and the four values I strive to embody—I’m not sure I’m nailing it, but I’m trying, every day, to follow his example. Doing so makes me a better man and a better father.
By David Porter8 years ago in Families
The Invincible Man
"My dad is stronger than your dad." "Well, my dad is smarter than your dad." Many of us have gotten into childhood arguments with friends or adversaries over whose dad was the smartest, toughest, richest, etc. When you grow up with attentive, involved fathers, it is easy to begin to see them as larger than life. Seriously, my dad was always one of the strongest and the smartest. He was also hard-working and family-oriented. He had a passion for his faith and his family. He believed strongly in education, hard work, and loyalty. He still believes in those things, however, to look at him now, one would think he is helpless, hopeless, and haywire.
By denise knight8 years ago in Families
