My Family Environment

Growing up, we as kids rely on a great stable family household. We want to feel cared for; having that family team environment helps us handle our problems as an individual outside of our shell/comfort zone or whatever fits. Throughout all endeavors in life, things are continuously changing and affecting us in distinctive ways. However, I trust that the adjustments in lifestyles that have a lasting affect are inside the family. Children look up to the adults – especially being the leaders - of their household as they are being raised for guidance, and advice. For me, the feeling of a family environment was taken away at an early age when my mother and father divorced. I was around 9 years old at the time, and honestly I had no Idea what

It was at this age I started to see a slight contrast in how my parents spoke to each other, and treated each other. I would always ask to myself, Why are Mommy and Daddy so angry at each other at this point? Is it something I did? Nothing had even happened yet, and I had just started to take the blame for why things are the way they are now between my parents, I took the strain in the family household as hatred towards me. The battling proceeded and I just felt more regrettable and more hopeless as the year went on. Thinking back, the contentions between my folks were not gigantic issues, but rather just nit-picking and an absence of correspondence. My mom in the end had enough, and filed for a divorce. I knew even at such a youthful age, to the point that she was drained, and sorrowful. She had been the one to invest exertion and attempt to fix up what my parents had before they got married it was too late, however my dad had given up some time before that. The divorce was finalized February 14th of 2002 ; two days after my tenth birthday celebration. I was currently expected to be with my mom each day of the week and going through the ends of the week with my dad. Be that as it may, right on time after the separation I was principally with my mom. She didn't give the separation a chance to stage her. Truth be told, life at home was the same with the exception of the nonappearance of Dad. I realized that my mother had each privilege to cry, to be disturbed, to grieve the loss of what her and my dad had, to look at. Yet, she pulled it together for my brothers and I, staying aware of our general routine of school and exercises, and never let us see her shed a tear. All I felt for her consistently was love and esteem, and I trusted that I could be as solid as her one day. My dad, then again, had looked at. When he returned into