family

Family unites us; but it's also a challenge. All about fighting to stay together, and loving every moment of it.

Checking in
It has been a while since I have checked in and just given an update on my life. How is everyone doing? Obviously you can't respond to me (unless you reach out on Instagram! Don't forget to follow) on this platform but I hope those who read this are doing great. I have been doing great as well. Life keeps throwing the usual curveballs, but I've been doing a great job at catching them.
By Jordan Payne6 years ago in Humans
Angels Abound!
It was the day before Cameron’s ninth birthday. I expected to hear an excited voice on the other end of the phone in Windsor, but there were only sobs and tears. Cameron’s classmate, Destiny, had died suddenly two days before, and my youngest grandson was feeling deep, deep sadness. “I’m not going to have a very good birthday tomorrow, Papa,” was the only clear sentence he managed to articulate at that point. This is the rest of the conversation as best I can recall.
By Rick Beneteau6 years ago in Humans
My Big Fat Greek Encounter
Late again! My new doctor that is, who I met last year in the emergency ward after suffering a rather nasty concussion while curling.
By Rick Beneteau7 years ago in Humans
Raising Generations
When my grandson was born, I felt I was too young to be called grandpa. I was a very young first-time father and was only 35 when my grandson was born. So, when I made that declaration, my daughter asked: "What would you like to be called then, dad?" and I responded "PAPA!" From that point on, I was PAPA. A title I take very seriously and with the greatest of pride.
By Jason White7 years ago in Humans
Mommy Is a Monster
In 2002, my “mother” got pregnant for the sixth time. She had kept three of the kids, put one up for adoption, and the other lived with the dad. She wanted to get an abortion so she could keep doing drugs, but after my dad and grandma didn’t let that happen, she kept the baby, but also kept doing drugs. In March of 2003, on a snowy day, that baby girl was born, and that baby girl was me. After spending nine months in the womb, exposed to meth and god knows what else, it was a miracle I didn’t have any apparent problems, and an even bigger miracle I had turned out to have no problems at all!
By Mariah morales7 years ago in Humans
Mirror, Mirror on the Wall
I'm not sure if it's a "me thing," or if over time I caused myself to become the person I am today. I keep searching for love, and usually it starts off well, and then ends up like everything else in my life. I was never given the opportunity to experience real love from my dad, so I think that resulted in me looking for love within the people I date. Nah, my dad's not dead, yes he was apart of my life growing up, but he still wasn't there. My mother had to beg him to show up and be a father, and it felt like maybe it's me, maybe I caused everything. We lived in the same household, and I felt unloved by him. I never heard my father say "I Love You," "You're Beautiful." Certain things I wanted, he didn't do, well most things. Actually, I realized it is a "me thing," because he tells my younger siblings everything I wanted to hear for the past 20 years of my life. So yeah IT IS ME! I've dated a lot of guys, made a lot of mistakes looking for love, and I really wish I could start over. It's funny how—well not really funny—but the guys I speak to can never love me the way I want. Is it me? Do I come on too strong, too fast? I rush things. Yeah, maybe that's it. I have so much love to give; I'm such a loving person, and all I ever wanted was love and loyalty in return. Even though my dad has done me wrong, betrayed me, called me out of my name, and physically abused me; I have no clue why I leave the door cracked open. I never completely close it, and keep my life pushing. I keep thinking maybe he'll come around, maybe he doesn't hate me, and I'm overreacting. My heart won't let me hate him, and I don't know why. He's the reason for my heartbreaks, and the constant search for love.
By Good Reads7 years ago in Humans
Bad Hair Day
One of the things I stand against entirely is parent’s disciplining their children by giving them embarrassing haircuts. I feel this way based on experience, and the day I had to go to school with one of the worst haircuts ever. Even as I write about this experience, the feelings of embarrassment come back to me, and it hurts. I was in the eighth grade; I remember the day before the haircut like it was yesterday.
By Maelyn Jeffers7 years ago in Humans
Escaping My Past... Part Three
Age 13 I wake up. My mouth dry and my head throbbing from silently screaming for hours the previous night. I stare at my surroundings. I am in my closet. It’s nearly pitch black. I look down at my arms. I see the scratch marks are still there. The redness is still there developing into a near cut. Flashbacks start to flood my thoughts. I can still see her now. Screaming in my face because I forgot to follow an order. I stood there helpless unable to move. Seeing her with her arm extended ready to hit me. Her wide emerald eyes. From the outside, she's quite beautiful. Long curly black hair, piercing green eyes, and a tall figure. On the inside, however, the devil inside her comes and goes as she loses her temper, usually under the influence of alcohol. I slowly watch it consume her and cloud her judgment. I have no choice. I wince and walk through, bracing for impact. I suddenly remember her taking my arms with her long nails and slowly running them across my skin scraping my skin 'til I bleed. At this point, I don’t feel it. There’s so much adrenaline in my body I can no longer feel her hurting me or hear her words. They come into focus now. “Piece of shit”... "Bitch"... I remember it now as my vision became blurred as I shut all the light out of my room sinking into my closet between the two walls. Immediately out of anger punching my hands against my hard textbooks causing pain to shoot through my hand. For some reason this numbs my pain I feel inside for a few seconds, then begins to hurt physically. My ears began to ring and my tears started to take over. I can no longer stop. I look at my hand, watching both hands, how they violently begin to shake. With several attempts, I grab my pillow and blanket and fall into a deep sleep in the fetal position.
By Angel 🌹🌹🌹7 years ago in Humans
Escaping My Past... Part Two
Confusion. A few months later... AM: I wake up and it dawns on me that I am still confused as to why he left. I couldn't wrap my brain around the reason... why? Why did he leave? Was it because of me? I am at fault? Was it my mother? I couldn't find any answers. I pace constantly back and forth, thinking over and over trying to draw conclusions as to why he had to leave. Irritable I decide to wait until 8:30. Braiding my dog's hair and giving it hugs. 9:00AM. I hear the sink running on the other side of the house. Her footsteps inching closer to the door. Stopping abruptly before touching the doorknob to listen. She always came in as if she has to say something important, but it was nothing new after my father left. "Hurry up take the dogs out and feed them."
By Angel 🌹🌹🌹7 years ago in Humans
My Mother, Myself
As another Mother's Day passes in the United States, I got another opportunity to reflect on my relationship with mother. I am not sure what it is about this holiday, but each year it passes, I am overwhelmed with many feelings, particularly grief.
By Karla Quezon7 years ago in Humans
Abuse Was A Tragedy
Hello Everyone. My name is Tyreeon. I'm a 17 year old female made up of African and Honduran descent. I wanted to discuss a topic amongst many topics that I have had trouble with, and I'm sure others have; abuse. Not just mental, but physical as well. Today we are focusing on the physical.
By Tyree Lola7 years ago in Humans
Caged
Her mind buzzed with excitement and worry, unsure of what path to take next. As if in a knee jerk reflex, she decided to walk to the art gallery and distract herself for the afternoon until she was truly ready to decide for herself what she should do. Standing in the art exhibit, surrounded by an array of beautiful and unique displays, she found herself caught in a trance, as if one piece spoke to her. In a dark corner to her right a single ray of golden sunlight danced, highlighting a delicate artifact that was suspended by a single golden thread. In harsh contrast, a frail rusted birdcage that was weathered and old, housed the delicate creation.
By Amber Gant7 years ago in Humans