Discuss an accomplishment or event, formal or informal, that marked your transition from childhood to adulthood within your culture, community, or family.
'I was born in 1996. My parents were divorced in 1999 with joint custody. Living with Dad was great. I can't say the same for Mom. Mom was newly divorced and ready to "get back out there". When Mom wanted to go to a late night party, she just took me with her.Mom always insisted that it would be fun, there would be kids my age to play with and that we wouldn't stay long. To this day I can't figure out why she would lie to me. The parties my mom went to were flooded with loud music, risqué dancing, sexual encounters and alcohol. When we arrived at a party she would sit me in a chair and say, "I'll be right back." I sat and waited in a crowded room. I would watch the people talk, drink, laugh, shake, grind, kiss and grope. After a few hours of waiting for Mom to be "right back", I became restless. I would navigate through the crowd and search for her. When I couldn't find her, I would approach anyone I could find and ask, "Have you seen my mom?" Me, a small voice in a crowd of giants. "No.", said the drunk. "No", said the shaker. "No.", said the grinder. Sometimes I'd find her. Other times, I would return to my seat and wait. I would cry until I fell asleep. Eventually, Mom would come. Sometimes, the next day. No apologies, not the slightest bit of worry, remorse or concern on her face. She just came and took me home. I guess that was okay.'
I grew up with very little self confidence and a very turbulent relationship with my mother. Having the one you love the most put you through the most pain was, to say the least, confusing. I'd seen too much for a 4 year old girl. I was forced to grow up too fast. Being exposed to mature subjects and being left alone at such a young age brought on social anxiety disorder. I suppressed the memory of all the parties including the one where I was sexually abused. As a result, I grew up thinking that I was not good enough, not because of what happened to me but because I was defective. When I entered high school, I was an emotional wreck. I never spoke so I was bullied. My sophomore year, I transfered to Maranatha. Going to maranatha was a blessing. I had the opportunity to speak to God. In the midst of all my anxiety, He was a comfort. The turning point was during my junior year when I talked to my mentor, Ms. Barrantes. After talking to her I realized that I was not defective. Deep down, I just was afraid. Deep down, I was still a child. At seventeen years old, I was still the little girl crying at the party for her mommy. No matter how much I loved her, mom was never going to be what I wanted her to be. No matter how emotionally scared I was I couldn't erase the past. I kept waiting for someone to take away the pain but part of growing up is taking responsibility for yourself. Instead of waiting to be rescued, I picked myself up off the ground. I understood that my time for being a child was long gone and whatever innocence I was trying to maintain was nonexistent. I had to let go of that little girl and become a young woman. Here I am today, an active member of the Ambassador Club, the Speech and Debate team and the softball team. I'm tackling Calculus and starting my first non profit. You know, the best part about growing up isn't getting older. It's looking back on life and seeing how far you've come....
'I was born in 1996. My parents were divorced in 1999 with joint custody. Living with Dad was great. I can't say the same for Mom. Mom was newly divorced and ready to "get back out there". When Mom wanted to go to a late night party, she just took me with her.Mom always insisted that it would be fun, there would be kids my age to play with and that we wouldn't stay long. To this day I can't figure out why she would lie to me. The parties my mom went to were flooded with loud music, risqué dancing, sexual encounters and alcohol. When we arrived at a party she would sit me in a chair and say, "I'll be right back." I sat and waited in a crowded room. I would watch the people talk, drink, laugh, shake, grind, kiss and grope. After a few hours of waiting for Mom to be "right back", I became restless. I would navigate through the crowd and search for her. When I couldn't find her, I would approach anyone I could find and ask, "Have you seen my mom?" Me, a small voice in a crowd of giants. "No.", said the drunk. "No", said the shaker. "No.", said the grinder. Sometimes I'd find her. Other times, I would return to my seat and wait. I would cry until I fell asleep. Eventually, Mom would come. Sometimes, the next day. No apologies, not the slightest bit of worry, remorse or concern on her face. She just came and took me home. I guess that was okay.'
I grew up with very little self confidence and a very turbulent relationship with my mother. Having the one you love the most put you through the most pain was, to say the least, confusing. I'd seen too much for a 4 year old girl. I was forced to grow up too fast. Being exposed to mature subjects and being left alone at such a young age brought on social anxiety disorder. I suppressed the memory of all the parties including the one where I was sexually abused. As a result, I grew up thinking that I was not good enough, not because of what happened to me but because I was defective. When I entered high school, I was an emotional wreck. I never spoke so I was bullied. My sophomore year, I transfered to Maranatha. Going to maranatha was a blessing. I had the opportunity to speak to God. In the midst of all my anxiety, He was a comfort. The turning point was during my junior year when I talked to my mentor, Ms. Barrantes. After talking to her I realized that I was not defective. Deep down, I just was afraid. Deep down, I was still a child. At seventeen years old, I was still the little girl crying at the party for her mommy. No matter how much I loved her, mom was never going to be what I wanted her to be. No matter how emotionally scared I was I couldn't erase the past. I kept waiting for someone to take away the pain but part of growing up is taking responsibility for yourself. Instead of waiting to be rescued, I picked myself up off the ground. I understood that my time for being a child was long gone and whatever innocence I was trying to maintain was nonexistent. I had to let go of that little girl and become a young woman. Here I am today, an active member of the Ambassador Club, the Speech and Debate team and the softball team. I'm tackling Calculus and starting my first non profit. You know, the best part about growing up isn't getting older. It's looking back on life and seeing how far you've come....
