My Life Is A Rollercoaster

My life has been a rollercoaster. I have recently learned that life is tough, and its best learned at home. Wherever that may be. I was born February thirteenth of 1992, in what is no longer Oak Hill Hospital. My mother, Renessa, was seventeen at the time. My father, Jason, was nineteen. They lived in Webb City at the time, but shortly after receiving news they were expecting another baby girl, they moved to Carl Junction. Another baby girl followed shortly after. I was roughly four when their marriage fell apart. I don’t remember much other than to keep a small amount of things so moving was easier, and my mom would cry all the time because my father would hurt her. When she finally got the courage to leave him, we moved into my grandparent’s

St. Louis, with my father, was only about bands, bars, drugs, and how “sex sells” as he put it. By the time I was sixteen, I was an alcoholic that would dress to his standards to try to sell some new local rock bands merchandise. At a bar every night during the weekend, and two nights a week. Oh and then there’s the after-party at the strip club next door. When I refused to get a job there, he made me leave. I eventually came back to the same boyfriend from before. Drugs and alcohol came with me. I couldn’t seem to keep them away. My entire life has consisted of pain, chaos, department of family services, and my grandparents. Finally, after twenty years, my rollercoaster starts working its way back up. It starts to get exciting. I’m expecting a baby girl. As I’ve learned now all the problems with her father, how similar he is to my own, I feel like I’ve started her life off just the same I was trying to get away from. To change. I have to get off this rollercoaster, soon. I leave him. After one incident that took me back to when my mother and father were still together. Before my second sister. Peeking around the corner, hearing my mom call my name in pain, in between sobs. My father laughed the entire

When I decided enough was enough. I had dropped out of high school when I was sixteen, but had got my equivalency that summer. I never thought I would go to college. My mother tried, but failed. My second sister tried, and dropped out. But I wanted more. I wanted my kids to have more. More importantly, I wanted to give them what my grandparents gave me. So I started thinking of what I could possibly enjoy enough to pursue a career in, more importantly, be able to successfully get through college studying. After a year of brainstorming, doubts, and dead ends, I figured it out. And here I am, carefully working my way to becoming a master diesel mechanic. I’ve always loved big trucks. When my dad was still my hero, he used to drive one. I always loved riding with him from Joplin to St. Louis on a regular basis. I was always intrigued by the cb radio. The way all the truck drivers would talk and help each other. The way all the truck drivers would stick together no matter where they were from when they had only known each other for a moment’s time. And the importance of them and what it seems like nobody notices that they do for us. They are an important part of transporting so many of our goods we all need. I also like knowing how everything works. I’m interested in taking an electronics class as well as psychology. I don’t know if either will happen, but ill tend to that when the time