The night my world fell apart started off with a simple phone call. One minute I was laughing at the television screen, the next I was sitting in a frantic hospital room watching a blur of doctors and nurses surrounding my barely alive father. He was admitted into the Emergency Room after being found hardly breathing in his car that was stalled out on the side of the road. I, naively, assumed his diabetes had something to do with his sudden illness. Little did I know that the doctors were treating my father for an overdose on methamphetamines.
Growing up we lived just above the poverty level, barely getting by with my parents minimum wage jobs. We moved around frequently, chasing low paying jobs with no room to move up. Stability was inexistent in our family until our brother was born. We used up all of our savings to buy a house in the suburbs of Orange County, hoping for a better life in a neighborhood that offered many opportunities to its residents. My parents started their own businesses, my siblings and I were comfortable in our new schools, and problems at home were starting to dissipate.
Just as things started coming together, everything abruptly fell apart. My family, along with the rest of the country, were deeply affected by the Great Recession of 2007. We lost everything; our home, our cars, our pets, and our businesses. Our family was barely holding onto each other to begin with, so the stress of having to start our lives over from scratch completely tore us apart. My older sister fully abandoned her family and her values. She made is perfectly clear that she wanted nothing to do with our family, so we obliged and walked away. The real problem was my dad; he was back to his old ways of abusing my mom, but this time he chose to make his children the victims too. As I lay in bed at night I could hear my drunk father cursing our family, throwing things against the wall, and slamming doors. The police were called numerous times to help the situation, but every night would be worse than the night before. For the next two years I locked my door at night and prayed to God to make things better.
I had just started high school when everything started to go wrong. As much as I tried to keep my life at home separate from my life at school, it was evident in my grades and behavior on campus that something was wrong. The year passed by and nothing got better so I knew I had to get out of that house, and the only way of doing so would be to go to college. Based on my performance thus far in high school I knew my prospects of getting into a good university were low. I put all of my faith in God and used his strength to get my life under control. I started taking initiative at school; I got myself into tougher classes and made it a point to get involved in sports and clubs. With the help of my teachers, counselors, and my mom I was able to start my path to success. Soon enough, I was committed to so many things that my problems at home seemed insignificant; I was finally happy with where I was in life.
Throughout my transformation the two people who always stood by me were my mom and my little brother. My mom was young but she was the rock in our family, she did whatever it took to keep us together. She gave up a lot for our family; her education, her businesses, and her desire to become a lawyer. The only thing my mom ever asked of me was to get a good education and become something great. Her story and strength was what inspired me to follow of dream of becoming a lawyer myself. I want to become a lawyer for two reasons; first, because it would allow me the opportunity to help people who cannot help themselves. Second, it would enable me to support my mom and brother financially so someday she can escape from my father and be happy again.
The phone call from the hospital sent a shock of terror through our hearts. My father had not been home in almost a week at that point, and we were genuinely afraid for his life. The sight at the hospital was depressing; he had tubes and wires all over his body and a ring of doctors and nurses around him. My grief did not last long, for when I heard that my father had been taking crystal methamphetamines for the past two years all I could feel was anger and hatred. His explanation for his drug problem was that he washed all of our money away while gambling and could not deal with the guilt; so he resorted to drugs to help dull his pain. While it explained his behavior, it did not excuse anything. To this day I believe that we lost everything we had because my father was using all the money to comfort his drug addiction. This revelation, surprisingly, made my life easier. I had a greater will to go to college, which simply made me work harder in school. I knew I deserved better than what I was going through, and I was the one who had to step up and change my life around.
Growing up we lived just above the poverty level, barely getting by with my parents minimum wage jobs. We moved around frequently, chasing low paying jobs with no room to move up. Stability was inexistent in our family until our brother was born. We used up all of our savings to buy a house in the suburbs of Orange County, hoping for a better life in a neighborhood that offered many opportunities to its residents. My parents started their own businesses, my siblings and I were comfortable in our new schools, and problems at home were starting to dissipate.
Just as things started coming together, everything abruptly fell apart. My family, along with the rest of the country, were deeply affected by the Great Recession of 2007. We lost everything; our home, our cars, our pets, and our businesses. Our family was barely holding onto each other to begin with, so the stress of having to start our lives over from scratch completely tore us apart. My older sister fully abandoned her family and her values. She made is perfectly clear that she wanted nothing to do with our family, so we obliged and walked away. The real problem was my dad; he was back to his old ways of abusing my mom, but this time he chose to make his children the victims too. As I lay in bed at night I could hear my drunk father cursing our family, throwing things against the wall, and slamming doors. The police were called numerous times to help the situation, but every night would be worse than the night before. For the next two years I locked my door at night and prayed to God to make things better.
I had just started high school when everything started to go wrong. As much as I tried to keep my life at home separate from my life at school, it was evident in my grades and behavior on campus that something was wrong. The year passed by and nothing got better so I knew I had to get out of that house, and the only way of doing so would be to go to college. Based on my performance thus far in high school I knew my prospects of getting into a good university were low. I put all of my faith in God and used his strength to get my life under control. I started taking initiative at school; I got myself into tougher classes and made it a point to get involved in sports and clubs. With the help of my teachers, counselors, and my mom I was able to start my path to success. Soon enough, I was committed to so many things that my problems at home seemed insignificant; I was finally happy with where I was in life.
Throughout my transformation the two people who always stood by me were my mom and my little brother. My mom was young but she was the rock in our family, she did whatever it took to keep us together. She gave up a lot for our family; her education, her businesses, and her desire to become a lawyer. The only thing my mom ever asked of me was to get a good education and become something great. Her story and strength was what inspired me to follow of dream of becoming a lawyer myself. I want to become a lawyer for two reasons; first, because it would allow me the opportunity to help people who cannot help themselves. Second, it would enable me to support my mom and brother financially so someday she can escape from my father and be happy again.
The phone call from the hospital sent a shock of terror through our hearts. My father had not been home in almost a week at that point, and we were genuinely afraid for his life. The sight at the hospital was depressing; he had tubes and wires all over his body and a ring of doctors and nurses around him. My grief did not last long, for when I heard that my father had been taking crystal methamphetamines for the past two years all I could feel was anger and hatred. His explanation for his drug problem was that he washed all of our money away while gambling and could not deal with the guilt; so he resorted to drugs to help dull his pain. While it explained his behavior, it did not excuse anything. To this day I believe that we lost everything we had because my father was using all the money to comfort his drug addiction. This revelation, surprisingly, made my life easier. I had a greater will to go to college, which simply made me work harder in school. I knew I deserved better than what I was going through, and I was the one who had to step up and change my life around.