my life was not idyllic
Most of my earliest memories were set at a family's friend house, which I preferred much over my own; the family had three children, all of similar age to my sisters and me. Those summers with them of raw laughter and buoyant glee will be everlastingly treasured as the best. Clad in our two-size too small rubber boots, we would audaciously embark to the nearby swamp, carrying only our silver pails and 8-year-old frames, to try to catch wiggly tad poles whilst getting mud underneath our fingernails. With my vivid and dazzling imagination, I pictured myself as a safari woman, exploring the corners of the Earth. At a moment's notice, I would dive enthusiastically into my imagination uncovering and learning newfound items. And so, accredited by my ragtag neighborhood friends, I flourished as a more intrepid girl; valiant to take on more than the "creepy-crawlies" in the swamp.
As a self-mechanism, I would seek opportunities to escape the present adverse circumstances that I was living with -either inwardly or from friends. At home, although my parents did love my sisters and me, it was apparent that throughout my childhood they were strained; both were working multiple jobs to maintain the house payment along with affording my sister and I's needs. That stress reflected on their behavior, some of it lashing out onto us; my father with his anger which swelled into occasional alcoholic tirades, and my mother with her physical and verbal abuse. I apprehended early on that my life was not as idyllic as I envisioned.
2009: the year that reshaped it all; I have yet to experience more sorrow than from that year. In May, my mother was terminated from her primary job of teaching in an Akron charter school. It was evident that this was morally-crippling to her; I would hear crying several times in the day. She would go from spouts of anger, fueled by the confusion over the unjust reasons of her firing, to bellowing sadness. I was thirteen that year, and have never before encountered my typically resolute mother with such depressing episodes. Consequently so, she treated our family acrimoniously; growing reserved as though she was incapable to display affection, because she didn't even love herself. Following suit, in September, my parents called for a divorce. This was world-shattering; I had so yearned for a content integral family. I remember my dad walking to a car in the driveway, with all his suitcases, and I was simply void of all sensation -unable to respond to such a surreal moment. However, as more events began to unfold, I was forced to accept and abide by the surreal more often. Like a domino effect, my mother was sinking in house mortgage debt, and so our home on Parliament Drive was declared as foreclosed.
The months we had left to live in that address were crammed with uncertainty, pandemonium, and loneliness. While my mother would go out all night with strange men, my sisters and I were jilted to do what we pleased with the house. Once the time came to be forced to move, with my mother only receiving money through unemployment checks and my father's alimony plus child support, we had limited options of where to live. My mother chose for us to move to her boyfriend's apartment; I would later learn from her that it was our only option apart from being homeless. It was the middle of my high school career that I switched schools due to that move, and for awhile I held immense resentment and opposition. My older sister, Nicole, harbored the most trouble with accepting our poor circumstances, resulting in a depression which still influences her today. In her darkest moments, she would disturbingly threaten her life. I became awfully alert and protective over her, trying to evade her from such atrocious thinking.
I wanted to fill the void that my mother's absence was, and so I decided from that point on to be the mature one out of the madness. I became independent. I delved into my studies; conceiving my performance in school as an aspect in my life in which I could attain complete authority over. In honesty, it was a struggle to find and maintain stability between my home and school life. More than once a week, I would falter onto the ground --crippled by the immense pressure I felt --and quietly release my qualms through tears.
I am, like all other human beings, not completely the ideal as I envision being. But that vision is the quintessence of what has and will embolden myself to endure adversity and triumph over the obstacles which seem difficult to surpass. I am proud and thankful for the willpower I have sustained in the thick of misfortune.