I was a boy, about 9 if I remember. If I was ever carefree in the life given to me then this was when it was preponderance. During this time period in my life , it was filled with pure joy and amusement. I was never addressed with problems and problems never found me. Now I have grown up a little and advanced in the roller coaster of life, things are not as majestic and sumptuous . But that of course was expected. However I was rather different than other kids who relate to the joyous upbringing. I was woken up from the wonderland of being a child brusquely. It shaped me, it killed me ,and brought me back to life. It left me misshaped and misfigured but still in intact. It took long after for me to get the sanity back that was taken from me at such a young,innocent age. I was changed catastrophically and my soul crumbled which wasn’t able to be put back together. I have never tried to revisit the memories until I wrote this.. Before the horrible “sickness” struck. I spent most of my days with my mother and father. They both worked from home. Never actually sure what they did but it was sufficient I suppose. My favorite thing to do was go to the swing outside. The swing was vibrant and stood out in the grassy area of my own backyard. I would get pushed so high in the air it felt like I was soaring and on top of the world. I felt like the king of everything. The wonderful swing brought me to another world, another realm. I depended on that swing, it was the source of why
I was a child once and I probably still am considered one, but I have emerged out of the innocent stage of childhood, a period so dear to my heart. I believe that everything we are, everything will ever be is ingrained into this phase of our lives, which inevitably will mark us forever. Throughout the book Bad News Bears in Breaking Training wrote by Josh Wilker the reader gets an insight to the author’s childhood and the way he links it to the movie The Bad News Bears in Breaking Training produced by Leonard Goldberg.
Well, It all started in 1982. July 18th, 1982 to be exactly. Born with the father Ricky Savage and mother- Crissy Savage My childhood was something I call PERFECT!
Another way my childhood was different was that I would play with people
Locked in a dormitory which became my only survival resource, for the disaster and dystopia that surrounded me in every inch of my eye, and which soon became my worst fear in the entire planet, death. Terrifying, frightening and alarming was the ambiance that was perpetuated in my conscience. Unimaginable nights when a single room became the aegis of my brother and myself from the violence and murder, which suddenly portrayed as hell in my perspective. Liberty and freedom had become slavery, and for one moment, I even thought if this was worth a better future. Worth risking the lives of my family.
But I couldn 't relate anymore when the character would transform into something unique. Defying the odds. As a child, I had struggled to believe in myself and capabilities. I thought about how a child is never supposed to have limitations. A child 's best efforts is ample enough and therefore should have endless contingencies.
During that time, the relationship that with my step-father was much stronger and my relationship with my siblings (at that time my brother was 8, my sister was 3 and my newborn baby delivered in the facility and then was sent to live with us.) This was the most challenging time of my life and with people who were important to me coming in and out of my life. I worked to keep my siblings protected from the truth about our mother, and a longed for the day she was coming home. It seemed like that day would never come. The release dates kept changing and finally the day came.
Lucky, them, all I’ve got is a few deteriorating memories of Mother, Father, what we did together, the crash, and the orphanage. The orphanage is where it truly hit me that they were dead and I would never see them again. I was there for a year, that’s when my strongest and fondest memory occurred. An African American woman with kind brown eyes, a stark contrast to my blond hair, blue eyes, and white skin walked into my room and we talked for hours. I never would have thought I would have called her Mom then.
Few months after that I found out that my mother couldn’t find a place in my hometown and ended up leaving. I had many issues during these times and was super confused about why this was happening to me. I have to say that I doubted God and was angry on why He would let this happen to me. For a while, I wanted to give up on my faith like I’m sure many Jews wanted to when they were in the Holocaust. Eventually, when I got myself pulled together I started using what I have been through to help others.
It had its good days and bad days though, not speaking to my mother or father for an entire year was heartbreaking. The good days were easy to get through but when it rained it poured, some days I felt there was nowhere to turn. It kept me motivated though, I knew I needed to develop thick skin because mommy and daddy would not be there to save me. I became very cautious and aware of my surroundings, everyone was guilty until proven innocent in my eyes. I had to travel the safe route.
I can now look back to the times she would bring me to her work where I would meet all of the patients, remembering one lady who would give me 5$ every time I saw her and if I wouldn 't take it she would put it in my pocket herself. Seeing all these people made me happy and left me with good memories, but when my mom was fired it all stopped. She decided to get into the wrong groups of people, going to college parties and leaving me with my dad and grandmother. She would stay out until 3 or 4 in the morning, sometimes wouldn 't come home until the next night. She soon began addicted to other drugs such as Adderall, which is given to people with adhd to help them
My name is Ethel Waters. I was born in Chester, Pennsylvania on October 31, 1896 as a result of the rape of my teenaged mother, Louise Anderson; she was 13 years at that time. My father John Waters is a pianist and family acquaintance from a mixed-race middle-class background, but he played no role in raising me. I was an American blues, jazz and gospel vocalist and actress. I frequently performed jazz, big band, and pop music, on the Broadway stage and in concerts, although I began my career in the 1920s singing blues.
As the day passed my fevers started, they were bad. The best thing that had happened was that they finally brought my Scarlett in the room with me to let her stay with me. My sickness started when my incision opened back up, they took me to the ER. Tests were getting done, they were taking me all over the place all I could do was cry. My family was going through a tough time, all they wanted were answers.
Most transformative moments in life can be caused by the smallest of occurrences in life. Often people do not even realize that a pivotal moment in their life is happening. Someone may realize when they are mature enough that there was one special moment during their childhood that ultimately determined their lifelong goal. For others, they probably realized an “aha” moment right when it happened and from then on decided that they knew what they want to accomplish later on. I actually have taken from both sides of the spectrum from realizing that one special transformative moment but also not even knowing that it would end up steering me towards my current career choice.
As I got older, I realized that everyone is different and unique in their own way. Everyone has a different story. When I was younger, I was very happy. I didn’t pay much attention to anything around me. I think the only three things I cared about were eating, sleeping, and playing.
My story of my childhood is not to get pity from anybody; my story is empowering! The struggle and the hard times of my childhood gave me the desire for more. My mother inspired me to fight for what I want, to struggle for what I need, to dream for tomorrow because it just might be a little brighter than today and to make the not so bright days’ worth