“Mom,” I said. She was mumbling about dragons, talking monkeys, and invisible forces again. My mother Carol Davis was insane. She has lived in an insane asylum since she was 21. She had disappeared for one year and magically appeared two months pregnant and muttering about dragons, talking monkeys, and forces. I’m Josh Davis her son. When she went to the asylum nobody knew she was pregnant so I was born in the asylum. I never met my father. My mom never talks about him and the blood test didn’t come back. Because I live with my mother’s parents, they spoil me probably thinking I would go insane as well.. Once a month I come to visit my Mom. The dumb family policy said I couldn’t go more than once a month. I had only been here for an hour …show more content…
Otherwise she is perfectly normal. She doesn’t understand why she is in the asylum, neither do I. But it is against the law for a person with mental issues to take care of a baby. I wasn’t a baby either, I was a nine-teen year old man.
I drove home that night and saw a small snowglobe sitting on the front porch. I picked it up and gave it a shake. I started to feel dizzy, and I passed out. When I woke up I was not in the same place. There was my mother's old house. What I saw next was unbelievable. My mother walked out looking like her twenty year old self. She picked up the small snow globe on her porch and shook it. We were both transported to a medieval castle and town.
She looked as bewildered as I was. She checked her watch and it read 11:59. It struck 12:00 and all of a sudden a flying and talking monkey zoomed in front of us. I sprinted over to a vender selling apples and bananas and asked what was going on. He couldn’t seem to see or hear me. I turned around to see my mother doing the same but got the same
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My mom was about to kill an innocent man because she wanted to go home. She was a monster. My Mom and this guy were now fighting a force, they couldn’t see or hear. I kicked the guy right as he was running across the room. Not aware that he tripped and fell on the dagger that was sitting against the edge of the table. Mom was now rushing over to a man with a dagger in his heart. I was a monster. I murdered a man who I now realized wasn’t trying to get himself killed but lying next to a chicken my mom was trying to kill.
I felt the dizziness again and blacked out. I woke up on my front porch with the snow globe clutched in my right hand. I felt the realization of my cold blooded murder wash over me as I began to cry. I pulled myself into a chair and started to make a plan. I wouldn’t talk to anyone about this or I would be thrown in jail or even worse, the asylum.
I went against the family policy and went to see my mom the next day. Why that policy is there, I have no idea. I explained to her that I was the invisible force and that I had killed the man. I sat and watched her cry. She forgave me after I explained myself. I explained to her what she had to do to get out of the asylum. She did it and got out the next month. God works in mysterious ways I
Cassie O’malley was put in a mental institution by her mother for two and a half years. At the age of 18, she is able to make her own decisions and take her life back into control. She is anxious and nervous to see how she will do out in the real world, with not being told what to do. When her mom had arrived to pick up Cassie, it had been the first time her
I always had a feeling that I’d end up in psych ward, never knew what for though, but I always thought I’d have a better reason than I do now. Long story short: I tried to kill myself.
Since I did not know anyone else was my mother. According to my sister, we lived in our house alone, without any guardian guiding, or caring for my siblings and I. We ate our meals at my Aunt Gloria’s since we did not have any food at our own house. Moreover, It was a norm in El Salvador, the male to abuse their wives and children. Our cousins were our bullies; they saw their own mother abused by their alcoholic father. I asked my sister Yenis recently, “Why our cousins bullied us?” She said, “When you did not finish your meal, they would force you to finish your meal by smacking you.” When I was slightly older, I remembered I was standing on a ledge my grandfather build to prevent landslides. When I was standing on the ledge, I was thinking about how tall the ledge was, I looked to my right at my cousin when he pushed me, forcing me to fall down to the bottom of the ledge. I remember going in and out of consciousness. My grandfather picked me up from the ground and brought me inside my grandmother’s house. During the time, my grandmother clamored at my cousin, Yessica, to get warm water and rags. I remember feeling the warmth of the blood dripping down the back of my head. My grandparents did not take me to the hospital with the limitations they possessed. As a neglected parentless child I became withdrawn and
First, it is important to include an in-depth description of the storyteller in order to fully analyze the meaning of the tale. My story was narrated by an 18-year-old woman. She was born in Poland, and at the age of eight moved to the Frederick. She is from an upper-middle class family; both her mother and father are chemists. The story was obtained late one night while working on homework and casually conversing. The topic of ghosts and the supernatural arose, and she informed me that she once saw a ghost firsthand. I inquired about her experience, and she willingly explained what had happened.
Even though, Adele made the right choice of separating from him, she remained unsure of whether to return to him or stay at her parents’ house. Therefore, referring Adele to a shelter for abused women that offers free counseling will place her on the path of healing and recovery. Another support system is the pregnancy center that offers prenatal and parenting educational classes for pregnant women and ongoing education until the baby reaches fourteen months of age. In addition, these educational classes offer support by helping pregnant women earn points for baby items and maternity
... crying into the house, passing over the unholy mess her killers made and found you in our bedroom. You were in your crib, next to your mother on the bed. She'd been..." He cleared his throat before moving on. "The blood had even sprayed you. The police came and took their reports but I knew who was responsible."
Collings, David. "The Monster and the Imaginary Mother." University of Saskatchewan. Web. 06 Mar. 2011. .
My heart is pounding, hands sweating, vision blurry, what wrong with me? What is that horrible sweet sound? I finally came to my senses and realized that I’m doing terrible on my first violin solo. I can hear the scratchy sound of my strings, the judge stopped me and told me to start again, and so I position myself properly I held my violin proudly, my back was straight, and my wrist shaped like an L, I took a deep breath and held it I place my bow back onto my string and started to play but this time my bow was bouncing I was shaking I sound unskillfully but I can hear the soft sound of the piano playing along with me I was off beat once I bunch a note the pianist will play one of its keys we are supposed to be together so I stopped and
Sarah passed through three different foster homes over the course of a year and a half, an...
I completely agree with you on the ridiculousness of these newer rules. As a baseball player, I can most certainly connect to what you are thinking. When, I was an eight year old baseball player and running to second base, I was going to slide hard and late into second base. I was not intending to hurt another player, but this is just what I was taught. As for other situations, during my early childhood I would love watching the collisions between a runner and a catcher at home plate. That in my mind was one of the most intense plays that could occur in a baseball game. Then, going back to what you stated with the new development of the rules regarding sliding into second base and collisions at home plate, these are not needed. The major
I was finally home after a long day at work and I was so tired. My chunky heels clacked crunched the fallen leaves as I made my way to the front door of my country home. All of the sudden I caught a movement at the corner of my eye. It happened so quickly that for a second I thought my brain was playing tricks on me.
Using narratives to gain an insight into human experience is becoming an increasingly popular method of exploration. Assuming that people are in essence narrative beings that experience every emotion and state through narrative, the value of exploring these gives us a unique understanding. Narrative is thought to act as instrument to explore how an individual constructs their own identity (Czarniawska, 1997) and explain how each individual makes sense of the world around them (Gabriel, 1998). It may also give us an understanding into individual thought processes in relation to individual decision making practices (O’Connor, 1997). It is evident from studies such as Heider and Simmel (1944), that there appears to be an instinctive nature in people to introduce plots structures and narratives into all situations, with an intention to construct meaning to all aspects of life in its entirety. The value of narrative is that it is a tool that allows us to understand what it means to be human and gives us an insight into a person’s lived experience whilst still acknowledging their cultural and social contexts. Narrative is thought to be significance as it is ‘a fruitful organizing principle to help understand the complex conduct of human beings (p.49)’ (Sarbin, 1990) The construction of a person’s narrative is thought to be dependent on each person’s individual awareness of themselves and the circumstances that surround them. However, a debate to whether a person is able to formulate a valid narrative in the face of a mental illness such as schizophrenia has emerged. Sufferer’s symptoms are often thought to interfere with their abilities to perceive within a level deemed acceptable to their society’s norms and therefore the validity ...
You ever get to a point in your life where you sit back and actually realize HOW MUCH you've outgrown stuff? Some things will always be a part of you, but at a certain point in your life you realize there's no value in some things.
I looked outside and saw my mom fall to her knees and cry as my grandma followed right behind her and did the same thing. I was as confused as to what was happening and where I was going but I looked at my sister and I grabbed her hand and said, “We are going to be ok”. We didn’t know where we were going, but we were soon to find out what it was like to be in the foster care system.
I pulled into the driveway of my house and parked my car. I grabbed my coat and bag and opened the door. When I got out I instantly began to smell the sweet aroma of the long rose bushes making their way out of our fence and into the world of our driveway. I was so captivated by the fall breeze, and the beautiful smell of fall in the air that I didn't even know that I was to the door. As I snapped back into reality, I looked up and I was standing at my doorway.