A Mother is someone that loves you unconditionally. Someone that is with you from day one. They raise us and make us into the person we are today. They always know best for us. My mother was always there for me and was the greatest Mother ever, or so I thought. Everything I assumed and was raised up to believe of her was about to change. Believe her, or believe everything my family saw her for? Who do I believe, if anyone at all? It all started when my mother and Father divorced when I was six. Each of them was trying to gain custody of my two brothers and me. Being at such a young age, we didn’t actually know what was going on. My father remarried as well as my mother. My mom would divorce and remarry my step dad over and over. …show more content…
She would lie and manipulate everyone around her and make them feel sorry for her. She took advantage and lied to make me stay and help her. I knew I couldn’t trust anything my mother was saying anymore. I finally saw the real woman she was when we were living together. I had rented a house to help her acquire her section 8 housing. She stopped paying rent and forced me to work full time to pay for everything. After trying to help her and telling her she needed to pay rent, she became this completely different person. She turned on the one son that was there for her all of these years, the one that helped her through everything. I knew what I had to do. I ended up kicking her out and she moved back in with my step dad. I haven’t talked to her since that day. To this day, I still don’t know which to believe. Was my grandpa the great man that I saw him as growing up, or was he the abuser and rapist that my mother had made him out to be? All I know is, I am better off not hearing about it from my mother anymore. She may have been telling the truth, but all of the lies and deceit that she told makes me not want to believe anything she has to say. It makes me not want to trust anyone and just believe in myself only. I have become a man that has problems trusting people, even the ones that were closest to
Joan Murray wrote the essay “Someone’s Mother,” she describes a time when her intuition encouraged her to assist a hitchhiker.
Some mothers cannot be all that you want her to be, but she is a mother. Being the only daughter with four brothers of the family with a mean mother was a tough life. Teenage life was the hardest tough love having to hear her criticism tone of voice and what she has to say next from her cup full of emotions. She would not give any female support on problems when support was needed. Sometimes it is rare to see her happy, but mainly she gives out her stress, anxiety, and anger like whose fault would that be if it was not hers. Most of the back talking is not a way to solve an argument, not with her, but she will not give up. Living with the madness helps to become a strong person if believing is all that can be wished for. Experiencing as a teenager, mother would probably be the toughest meanest mother in the world, but she is mother who will love dearly. No matter how hard life can be with a mean mother she will continue to love endlessly despite of if she shows her emotional or psychological abuse actions, but she is a biological mother with a soft heart to love.
I can distinctly recall spending many early mornings with my mother as a very young child. Endlessly engraved in my memory is aroma of coffee and sprinting down the stairs to my basement to collect my mothers’ uniform from the dryer. And then with a kiss laid upon my forehead, she would drop my siblings and I off at my grandparents’ home to begin her ten, sometimes twelve hour shifts as an ultrasound technologist. Then just as I can vividly recount my mother’s morning routine, I still can picture the evenings I spent with my mother to the same caliber. Simply put, my mother is a wonderful cook. And thus, each evening she would prepare a different meal. And while the meals always varied, her superior cooking skills never faltered. Despite her hectic work schedule, never once did I witness my mother skip cooking dinner for myself, my four elder brothers, or my father.
Women who wanted to play a more active role could serve as nurses. This poster showed nursing as the natural extension of motherhood. A Red Cross nurse, “our greatest mother,” shelters a young girl from the war raging in the background. “Our Greatest Mother,” play an active role as nurses during the war.
I started thinking of all the lies that I'd heard her tell. I remembered the time she told someone that her favorite restaurant had closed, because she didn't want to see her there anymore. Or the time she told Dad that she loved the lawn mower he gave her for her birthday. Or when she claimed that our phone lines had been down when she was trying to explain why she hadn't been in touch with a friend of hers for weeks. And what bothered me even more were all the times she had incorporated me into her lies. Like the time she told my guidance counselor that I had to miss school for exploratory surgery, when she really needed me to babysit. And it even started to bother me when someone would call for her and she would ask me to tell her that she wasn't there.
I interviewed a fifty-five year old female named Theresa Geis. She is married to Robert Geis and they have four daughters including me. They reside in Denver, Colorado with one daughter still in the house. Theresa graduated with a master’s degree in teaching with a focus in special education. She grew up in Greeley, CO but enjoys Denver and where she is currently at. Theresa and Robert have had the same house in Denver for twenty-one years now and have recently bought a cabin in Estes Park which is on the border of Rocky Mountain National Park.
As the contractions began to grip my stomach, I realized that my life would forever be changed. Knowing the old me had to die in order for me to become a new me. After being abandon at the age of five, I grew up feeling lonely and unloved. I was filled with so much anger, malice, hurt and unforgiveness that I held against others. I didn’t have the luxury of living in a stable environment, because growing up I was always living from home to home. I had no intentions to strive for better, I had begun to allow my upbringing to be my excuse. Years of disappointment resulted in me caring less in others desire. I couldn’t love anyone because love was never shown to me, but
In 1859 Henry Ward Beecher said, "the mother’s heart is the child’s schoolroom." I believe that statement because of experiences I’ve had with my own mother. I have learned more about life from her than from my 15 years of schooling. Over the last 20 years my mother has taught me many valuable lessons just by being a living example of compassion, thoughtfulness, and generosity. She is an angel that has protected and carried me throughout life.
I can admit it, I was afraid. Days would pass and my heart and conscience would not allow me to face my reasons for being afraid. I didn’t understand how I could first hand witness my mother being abused and allow it to happen to me. All my life I said to myself, “I will never let any man place his hands on me! And if he did I would leave him in an instant!” But that’s easier said than done. The worst part about my situation was that my mother always suspected it. It was like she knew every time it happened. I would break down and cry to myself, but I would never talk about it. It all started with his being jealous. He started to be controlling, and I let him. I would say to myself, “I should’ve done this; I should’ve done that.” The first thing that I should’ve done was put my foot down when I saw things going bad.
It seemed like a normal day when I entered Mrs. A’s AP Language and Composition class, but little did I know that she was going to assign a very important project that was going to take forever. I took my seat and wrote down what was on the board. Then I sat patiently and waited for Mrs. A to come explain what we were doing today. When the tardy bell rang, Mrs. A glided into the room and gave us all a stack of papers. She then proceeded to discuss our upcoming assignment, a memoir. As she explained the very important assignment, I wondered whom I would write about. No one really came to mind to write about and I thought for sure I would never be able to get this thing done on time. I finally decided that I would write in on my mother, Kari Jenson. I knew I would probably put the project off until the very end and do it the weekend before even though it would get on my mom’s nerves. Putting work off was just how I did everything, it worked for me. When I arrived home from school that day, I told mom about the project. I told her I would most likely write it about her and she was overjoyed.
I see her as a failure because of the life she has lived, she has struggled to get by since as long as I can remember and she still is to this day. She has no assets and probably doesn’t have a job as of now. My brother’s and I see her as the wrong type of parent, but I see her as a role model because she always found a way to get food for my younger brother and me, she always found a way to have a roof over my head, she always tried to provide even if she wasn’t doing the best job. My brother on the other hand is my role model, I want to be like him someday or at least be successful as him. He busted his tail to be where he is today and without him, I probably wouldn’t be here writing this essay right now. He is a great parent, he may struggle a little here and there but its more so because of the correct decisions he has made such as buying a house, buying a new truck, having kids, buying stocks and stuff like that. He is one of the strongest people I know as well as one of the most responsible and smartest people I know. While my mom may lack the role of being responsible she is strong and tried her best while raising
When I needed to talk, she listened. When I was ill, she healed me. When I was hungry, she fed me. This frail woman whom I call my mom was a superwoman while I was growing up. With wisdom, she guided; with tenderness, she spoke; and with love, she raised me. Although we were very poor, my mother made it a point always to give me a present on my birthday.
...mportant person in my life and I know that she will be always there for me with help, her love, and her care. She’s a wonderful person, she admires the beauty of life, and as a result she is always in a good mood. Now, like my mother, I’m a positive thinker, and I am a creative person who believes life is what you create it to be. I also know if I have to make any big decisions in my life, I can always ask my mom for advice because she has the wisdom and experience. I also know that she will tell me the truth even if it is not something that I want to hear, but she will tell me with kindness and without any judgment. My mother is my role model because she does so much for me; she gives me everything she has just to make my life easier. I love my mother and I am so thankful that she is the way she is. My mother is always there for me and I would do anything for her.
My mother was not only worry and take care of me, she always by my side when I need her help. I felt sad, my mother always by my side to talk and to console. While I am glad, my mother is always been there to share and listen to me. When I failed to do something, my mother who was gave me advices. She has always supported me in all my choices. She tried to make me strong people with independent minds. I looks to her in hopes that someday I will be as happy, as strong and as well as
My grandmother has always been my biggest supporter throughout my life. My Grandmother is my back bone; she is the reason why I am the person that I am today. Most people hear the word grandmother and expect to see older lady with possible white hair, standing in the kitchen cooking and baking, evening sewing. My grandmother is the exact opposite of those things, she is still employed full time, enjoys making jewelry and furniture. Although she is only five two she is very witted and outspoken she never bites her tongue and will always give her opinion even if you don’t ask for it. There is a softer side to her, she will give you her last and be a listening ear day or night. Like the saying goes “to know me is to love me” and believe me