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Growing up to an addict Life wasn’t always so bad, or at least that’s what they told me. From what I remember of my child hoods great memories my family speaks so highly of, if there were any at all, are all clouded in my mind by the what I can remember my life being. At times I find myself going thru old pictures of when I was a child and think to myself. Why can't I remember this day? I looked to be a happy healthy baby then my heart turns in a cold way. Growing up to a parent addicted to drugs and alcohol is no way for a child to be raised. I had to grow up at an early age and didn’t truly get to experience life the way a child should. My family tells me Marquise you were so loved by so many people and your Mom tried to do the best she …show more content…
The orphanage had its up's and downs I remember certain things such as Movie and gave nights. I remember feeling a sense of coldness I had never felt before I was lonely and at times afraid. From there I went to my first foster home I believe her name was Ms. B I think I was about 12 year's old going there. At this time I was use to not being with my mom and being my own man. Yes man at the age of 12, starting off it wasn’t so bad there was another kid there with the same name as mine. He and I use to sit up and talk about what and who we were going to be when you grew up. There were times when Ms. Johnson had her boyfriend come over to the house they would listen to loud music and drink she got so drunk that at times she made Marquise and I stand in the corner all night long for no good reason at all. I remember visiting my mom in rehab telling her all of what she was doing to me how I didn’t want to be there how mean and lonely it was there. I guess I was thinking I was going to go home someday as she was in rehab getting clean from the drugs. The years went by as I still sat in what felt like a prison with its ups and downs. I talked with my case worker about what was going on in the home they later moved me
It was 3 a.m., and I could hear the argument downstairs. My parents had to do this at 3 a.m.? I got up, walked around for a minute, and went back to bed- I had school the next day. This became an increasingly common occurrence, almost every other day the fall and winter of junior year. The argument had been more or less the same for the last month, centering around my dad's alcoholism and family's money troubles.
I’ve never heard of any childhood quite like yours. I was shocked by the personality and character of your parents and how they raised you and your sibilings, “The Glass Castle”. I understand why people call your parents monsters. I will admit that the thought crossed my own mind on multiple occasions. However, I have also never read a book or a memoir that required so much thinking . With every page I read I was able to learn about the struggles & hardships you dealt with as a child and I tried to see a deeper meaning. When I did that, I saw your parent’s intentions behind everything they did. I began to understand what you saw and still see in your parents.
To begin, what led up to my adoption. This was very difficult part of my life, which began when my mom and my dad split up. They broke up when I was very little and my mom met a guy that I really did not like. He was a major alcoholic and always beat my mom, brother and I. There have been times that we tried to get away but he would seem to always find us. This was when finally my brother and I ran away and which caused us to
This was my first AA Meeting experience, so going into the meeting, I had no expectations on what I hoped to get out of it or what I thought it was going to be like. Since this was my first AA meeting to attend, I was nervous about how people at the meeting would perceive me and their reactions for my reason being there. The meeting itself wasn’t awkward, but there was one moment from the meeting that was awkward for me. The moment that was awkward for me was the beginning of the meeting when we went around the room to introduce ourselves and when it was my turn, I said that I wasn’t an alcoholic and that I was there for a class assignment. So not knowing exactly what to say in that moment and having over twenty strangers staring at me in that
Growing up with an alcoholic dad is one of the hardest things I have been through the second is going through puberty with a dad who had cancer. My dad was not a bad man at all he was considerate and smart, but he was also sick in all meanings of the word. In a way my dad transferred one disease for another, meaning once he got cancer he was no longer an alcoholic. Due to my father's chronic illness I was left to taking on responsibilities at home at a very young age and leaving my day filled with school, a job, and taking care of the family while my mom worked. Due to this hectic schedule it left my very little time to focus on school and activities, during the year my dad was the worst ,my junior year, I received my first F and my attendance
Sunday, August 3rd, 2017 at approximately 10:00 a.m., I Detective L. Donegain was contacted by Sergeant P. Orellano in-reference to an overdose. I was advised the victim was at 500 Rhodie Avenue, Fayetteville, North Carolina 28304. Sergeant P. Orellano advised the victim was located by his parents and had two needles next to him.
It’s like having a veil over my eyes. I can’t focus on any one thing but instead my attention is drawn to many things at once. I notice passing conversations while walking down the halls of The Pine Hill clinic. I notice the ambience and the noise around me as I sit and watch football games on the TV. I’m never completely checked into what is in front of me, always walking with something nagging at the back of my head; the constant desire for something forbidden. I know what I’m here to accomplish but I don’t completely understand why I want to do this. These cloudy phases happen every couple hours as a symptom of my abstinence from alcohol. I’ve felt like the journey to overcome my addiction was mine and mine alone. I’d sit by myself in my
Since I have came into foster care in 2008 because of neglection, life has been tough at times. In my first foster home, I was so angry at my dad. I took it out on my foster mom; eventually I had to leave. When I arrived at my second home everything seemed fine. In the next few months, things went down hill from there. That was when I found out that my two baby sisters had been adopted, and I wanted to get adopted too. I was 10 years old at the time. I was being beaten by my foster mom, and not being feed. I spent almost a year there. Finally I told my social worker. I got moved to yet another home in Cherryville. I acted so terribly that I stayed there for three weeks. I went to another home to wait for a placement in a PRTF. I lived in the
I had no place to call home. My mom had not come to visit me one time, and I had only received a hand full of letters from her. She told me in those letters that she was sick, and I couldn’t live with her (She died of cancer a little over a year after my release). My twenty-three-year-old brother was a drug addict, so I didn’t want to live with him. With no place to live, I would end up in a state halfway house or some other type of group home. For someone who was about to turn sixteen, this was a lot to deal with. The last two hours of my bus ride, which were supposed to be the happiest part of the trip, turned into the worst. The tension in my heart was almost unbearable now. It felt like someone had reached into my chest and was clinching my heart in an angry fist. My eyes teared up from the
My social worker never once visited me during my time there and I struggled daily with trying to maintain hope. Unfortunately, the house I was in wasn’t up to the health standards that are required to be a foster home. Because of the lack of people willing to become a foster home every time I complained to my social worker I never received a return call or answer. My foster house had a collection of bed bugs and fleas because of the cats they had. Ants ruled the house and left few foods in the house edible and by the end of seven weeks I lost nearly 30 pounds. The father and mother of the house were hoarders and trash, clothing, and random items varnished multiple rooms. I grew more depressed each day I spent in the home, the parents left me home alone and worked daily and I knew of living depleted and
Our routine was the same every day, wake up, shower, get ready, eat, do chores and finally go to bed. The orphanage was a government funded shelter located in Auschwitz, across from what I called the “forbidden dungeon” which in other words was the mental institution. I remember looking out the window of my room from the top of my bunk watching the the buliding for hours as if it there was something connecting me to it, as if something was calling me from the inside. It was a dark place, there were no windows only barbed fences, the grass never grew and the doors never opened yet there was a weird sensation I would get every time I went close to the humongous gates with the devil gargoyles sitting on top. I was very young and caught up in my own world of sorrow to pay heed to those sensations especially with all the things that would happen to the kids within the orphanage. Every year a child would go missing never to be heard or talked of again, as if they never existed, this time I was the target. I’ll never forget that day in June and how it changed my life
There is nothing that hurts more than watching your child destroys their health and well-being through alcohol or drug addiction. You do not know what to do, nothing you have tried has done any good, and it is tearing you up inside watching the deterioration. You can get sucked into the madness and feel like you are drowning in a sea of turbid water.
My first memories of my father were what I now know as active addiction, I would watch the chaos in my house, the abuse, both mental and physical and at the time I didn’t understand but as time went on it was apparent, at the age of 11, my father hung himself, although he did not die he cut off oxygen to his brain long enough to render him blind and incompetent to care for himself and he was place in a nursing home where he would reside for the next 25 years of my life. I swore I would never do drugs because I saw firsthand the destruction, but my family addiction did not stop there. My aunt was a daily drinker, my uncle was addicted to heroin, another aunt addicted to crack
As time went on, being in foster care didn’t seem that bad. I thought that it would never end; however, it ended for me ...
I never really thought about where my life was going. I always believed life took me where I wanted to go, I never thought that I was the one who took myself were I wanted to go. Once I entered high school I changed the way I thought. This is why I chose to go to college. I believe that college will give me the keys to unlock the doors of life. This way I can choose for myself where I go instead of someone choosing for me.