Posted: July 17th, 2022

Assignment 4 essay

Growing up my biological father was in my life for only a short amount of time. At the age of about 12, he finally stopped coming around for good. I only briefly saw him once or twice after that when I was about 17. I have never seen or heard from him again. I used to wonder how could someone just forget their own biological child that easily. It’s not as if he was always absent. The older I got, the more clarity and insight I gained to answer that question.
Apparently, my biological father had a troubled childhood and had been adopted. He was always in and out of trouble and by the age of 13 had been sent to a juvenile detention facility. The specifics of what kind of trouble he got into is unknown to me. While visiting Puerto Rico at the age of 15 with my mother, I got to meet my oldest half brother. It was uncanny how much we looked alike and it was great to finally connect with someone who could share my pain about the absence of our father in our lives. He was the first of Rosendo’s biological children to be left abandoned. My half brother Johnny provided me some much needed insight into the man of our progeny.
Johnny himself had also had a troubled youth and a couple of run-ins with the law. He later joined the Army Air Guard and is now a retired Lieutenant Colonel. It’s funny because I also had a pretty unruly adolescence and even almost got expelled for fighting from high school; I then, later, also joined the military. Perhaps my brother and I had a hereditary predilection to destructive behavior. What we both could not understand was how our father could have abandoned us, especially when we needed him most.
The older we got, the more we began to fill in the blanks about Rosendo. Rosendo had established himself pretty well in his adult years, owning a couple of businesses, to include liquor stores and nightclubs, and really did not have much time to devote to his personal life. Perhaps this was an escape for him, from all of his troubled young childhood. He married several times and for the last we heard of him, my mother was his last or fifth wife.
The story of why he divorced our mothers is relatively unimportant to the more grievous issue of having abandoned his 6 children altogether from all of his previous marriages. It’s as if we ceased to exist when his marriages dissolved. We find him to be a selfish person that was probably not very good at confronting his fears of inadequacy as a parent and also a very haunted man by certain events in his tragic life, to include the suicide of my older half sister. He possibly feels that the best medicine is avoidance or perhaps he just never really cared about us. He didn’t even attend his own mother’s funeral, but he did attend his brother Louie’s. What about that relationship was so sacred to him that all others were of in-consequence? He is the enigma of our lives and perhaps the source of much of our fraught childhoods.
It has made me a stronger parent, ironically, to have experienced this sense of “loss” in my life. I am so grateful to my husband for being a wonderful father to our two year old son, as my husband can also relate to having had an apathetic father figure (mostly absent) from his childhood. I personally struggle with my “daddy’s girl complex” that my friend studying psychologically explained to me to be the reason for my strained relationships with men in the past and for the day-to-day issues with my present husband. I only wish that I didn’t have such a dependency for unconditional love from a man to the point of pushing people away (in the past) who didn’t fit the criteria right away or for men who did meet the criteria but weren’t truly my type (as in the case of my ex-husband and perhaps now husband). I struggle with this very complex issue presently and I can’t help but wonder how much of this is attributed to my father not having been in my life. I accept full responsibility for all of my actions in my life but I do feel strongly that our parental influences strongly shape the types of choices we make as adults. I am grateful for the fact that I have gleaned from this experience the importance of strengthening my bond to my son and ensuring that that bond persists throughout our lives. I will always strive to be the best mother to him that I possibly can, conscientious of my actions and the implications that they may have on his life. And I know I won’t always get it right and that I will make some mistakes. But I will certainly always try!

One would never imagine at the age of seventeen their life would drastically change overnight, nine months later a healthy sweet baby boy would be born into the lives of first time teenage parents. On May 11, 2012 the world had encountered a beautiful American baby boy to add to this country’s population weighing in at 7lbs, and 4oz’s; he was a complete bundle of joy. The parents were still babies themselves considerably trying to wrap the concept of life’s challenging obstacles that came their way. With no focus in the future of having a job, house, or car these newly teenage parents struggled with the challenge of how to survive as loving parents in providing the best home for their new addition to the family. Scared of how the outcome maybe they impatiently made the choice to move in part time with both sides of their families. Through a quick thought process they made the irrational decision that both teenagers could spend two weeks with his parents and two weeks with hers raising their son while trying to decide how to find a place to live for the three of them in the future.
While both parties pitched in with necessities of taking care of nourishing the baby, clothing him, and seeing he made all doctors’ visits on time, the teenagers felt over whelmed with parenthood. Each family had their own way of raising a child, while teaching morals to their children. As time pressed on friction overcome the teenagers engaging them in horrific fights. Parents of the teenagers weighed in on their feuds causing more chaos than peace, eventually resulting in a breakup of the teenagers. The mother of the baby decided it was in the best interest of the child to resume in the custody of her presence. She exclaimed men are not capable of raising children and her son would be better off if she raised him alone. The father was quite flustered with her decision and chose to fight for his rights to raise his child. He did his best to persuade the teenage mother to reconsider, while explaining that if he was not capable of parenting why was he the one up every night during feeding and completing most dipper changes? He exclaimed yes, both of us did our part but in the midst of our arguments I was there holding our sons hand during every doctor visit, reading every bedtime story, rocking him through his struggle of colic; but yet I am not capable of being a father? As a result the mother took the child to her parents’ house, revoking the right of the baby’s father to see him. The teenage father along with the support and love of his parents await a custody battle in court in the months to come.
As you can see this true story is one of millions of tragic stressful events that occur among our world today. Women often think men lack the duty of parenthood; therefore revoking the fathers right to see their child. Today we should all be treated equal and that includes parenting as well. We often thinking narrow minded assuming that women are the best choice for raising a child because we are emotional, nurturing, express kindness, and love. In reality men often express these same features when becoming parents. It is crucial to see that men and women are both capable of being parents when in doubt they have love for their child.
In reference to their situation maybe the couple could have made a happy family if they lived on their own to work out their differences. Sometimes in life we often allow our loved ones to butt in and share their opinions on how to solve issues, when at best sometimes people have to learn from their mistakes and resolve their issues without help of others. It saddens me to witness these stressful life events among my family and nation. I believe in time we can all learn from our mistakes if we chose to share our trials and tribulations.

A stressful life event that I have experienced was divorce. Three years ago I received what I thought was the worst news. I discovered that my husband at that time was having an affair. So many thoughts raced through my head. How can I save my marriage? How will I make ends meet? How am I going to tell my children? My whole life got flipped upside down and I was lost.
I immediately sought help from my doctor. I was severely depressed and was experiencing anxiety. In the first month I lost 22 pounds because I was extremely stressed and could not eat. My doctor prescribed medication and referred me to a counselor. I did everything I could to try to save my marriage. I even tried changing myself. I wanted to conform myself into the person my husband wanted me to be. I am a strong believer in making a marriage work and that divorce is unacceptable. When you take your vows you are in it till death do you part. My husband obviously did not feel the same. He gave up, he was done.
At the current time I was a stay at home mom with only an AA degree. I knew I needed to go back to school to finish my degree. A month into my separation I registered for school. It had been 7 years since I had gone to school. Along with being depressed I was scared about school and about life in general. I did not know what to expect. I didn’t even know what I was going to school for. The only thing I was sure of was that I had to provide for my children.
Three years later this life changing event has been an eye opener for me. This stressful period of my life has been the best thing that has ever happened to me. If you asked me three years ago if I ever thought I was going to be happy again I would have told you no. I have become independent and strong. I now know that I can do anything by myself. This December I will be graduating with my Bachelor’s in Psychology and soon after marrying the man of my dreams. If I didn’t experience this stressful life event I would be in a very unhappy place right now. Life is full of obstacles and challenges, but it’s these stressful events that shape us into the people we are.

One of the stressful events in my life involves drugs and addiction. A friend of mine loves to drink. She drinks at night after work after practically every work day. She also drinks with the purpose of getting buzzed and getting drunk. She also smokes a lot of marijuana and cigarettes when she drinks. This habit is very unappealing to me and very stressful for me because when I am with her, she wants me to indulge in the same behaviors as she does.
The event was my birthday. She wanted to do something nice for me. She ended up picking me up from my apartment and taking me first to get a pedicure and then to have lunch. She was my ride to and from the businesses for that day. We had a nice time having pedicures. As far as I could tell, she seemed sober, having had to work at morning prior to seeing me. When we had lunch, it was at a Mexican grill called On the Border. This restaurant has a full liquor bar. I have never been much of a drinker myself. I have had stressful events early in life involving drug addicted family members. My father in particular had problems with cocaine and alcohol. All of the childhood memories I have had of him involve him smelling of beer, cigarettes, and sweat. These memories aren’t the greatest and for a long time, just the smell of alcohol bothered me. I didn’t want to be around it and I didn’t want to partake in it.
It’s hard to find friends who don’t drink or do drugs. I have tried looking and it’s definitely difficult, especially when so many people in my age group love to party and get drunk on weekends. I don’t know what it is about being a student that seems to spur bad behavior, but it is frequent around where I live. My friend is no exception. She doesn’t attend school, but she has a habit that I don’t agree with. I don’t mind the occasion drink socially, but other than that, I don’t indulge. On this day, while we were at On the Border, she decided to order us drinks while I was in the restroom. I came back to the table to see a margarita what was huge with a bottle of corona sticking out of it. It was a monster of a drink and certainly one that I wouldn’t have ordered. She said it was part of my birthday present and that we weren’t leaving until I finished the whole drink. This made me anxious because I don’t care for a lot of alcohol. This drink was quite large and “refillable” with the corona that was stuck upside down in the glass. Apparently, the key to this drink is to let the corona pour slowly so that it mixed with the margarita.
I took my time with the drink and discovered the hard way that she was serious about staying there until it was finished. She was my ride, after all, and I was left feeling very uncomfortable. I tried telling her my views, which she knew before taking me out for my birthday. She said that I was being a “stick in the mud” and it was my birthday, so why not enjoy myself and cut loose for once?

Life is something very precious in this world and sometimes it is taken away when we least expect it. I remember a while back when I was around 17 years of age, something of a stressful event happened to me. It was a beautiful summer morning in the streets of Miami and everything seemed setup so nicely. I was visiting my aunt and cousins for a week or two of summer break and I couldn’t be any happier. I had plans to go out with my cousin Fernando and just have a good time, doing what we do. My mom, who is one of those moms that worries about almost everything, had decided to bring my dog Eddie on the trip to Miami. I had left my dog Eddie, who is a mini dachshund, in the care of my mother and my aunt. I did this so that I could go out with my cousin and explore around town, getting reacquainted with the scene. After having one of the best days of my life, I receive a phone call from my mother crying. I couldn’t understand one word of what she was mumbling over the telephone. I told my cousin that something was wrong and that we needed to get to his house immediately. As we arrived at the house I came in expecting that something bad must have happen to my nephews, who were also staying with my aunt. I asked my mom what had happened and she told me the bad news. One of my nephews, unsupervised, had gone to the window of this five story apartment and had thrown Eddie out the window. I was so pissed off and stressed out that I had to leave the house to cool down, so that I could think straight. I cried and really felt bad about losing my dog; like the saying goes, you only know what you have when you lose it. I think about that time every now and then, thinking I could have done something different. Reflecting on it now, I am glad that my nephew was not the one who died.

Little Girl Scared

As a child I lived in Los Angeles, Robertson and La Cienega Blvd. I had a school friend who lived across the boulevard, my friend Darlene had invited me over on a Sunday to play at her house we always had fun together. Since I could not cross the major street Robertson Blvd. my mom said she would drive me over to Darlene’s house so we could make chocolate chip cookies. For some reason at the last minute I did not want to go, as I remember I felt scared. I was told by my mom to call my friend and tell her I could not play that day with her. My parents said nothing else about my not wanting to go to my best friend’s house. The next day when I went to school, (Shenandoah) everything was normal until Wednesday (I think) of that week, their had been a child my age who had not shown up to school, and the mother had called the school that she was believed to be kidnapped. Immediately, the school notified our parents not to let their children walk home from school alone and informing them that a student was missing and presumed to be kidnapped. Two weeks went by and the missing child still had not been found. My grammar school Shenandoah, on Robertson Blvd in Los Angeles, had a meeting for all of the parents; they had found the student who had been missing. That Sunday, that I did not want to go to Darlene’s house to play, she invited another friend to make cookies with her, and this friend’s mom dropped her off at Darlene’s house, when the child knocked on the door it opened and she went inside. However, when her friend arrived at Darlene’s house, she was not at home, the grandfather who let her in told her that Darlene went up to the store with her mother and would be right back, he was the only one who was in the house at that time. The grandfather suggested to the girl that could play a game until Darlene got home and he suggested that they play hide and seek, while playing hide and seek, the grandfather, took a hammer and bashed her head open and then sexually assaulted her, he then took her body out to the incinerator, took an ax chopped her up and dumped her in the incinerator wrapped in a blanket. When Darlene and her mom got home their was a note from the grandfather that he had gone out of town and would call them. When the child’s mother came to pick her daughter up no one answered the door she kept calling and when Darlene’s and her mother arrived home, they said that they had been out shopping; the child’s mother said the door opened and she walked in to the house. The police were called and a missing child notification was sent out. No child found for days somehow at one point in the investigation they found the burnt remains of the blanket and they identified the child by her teeth. Immediately the police started looking for the grandfather and realized he had a record for pedophilia. It took three years but they find the grandfather on a bench at a park called Pershing square in Los Angeles, after they identified him they associated him with the murder of two other children. I cannot tell you how much fear I had and I was afraid to even go outside. Within two months my parents sold the house, we had already moved to my grandparent’s house and my parents purchased a house in Sherman Oaks, California, My new school was Dixie Canyon, in time I adjusted to what had happened and did go back to walking to and from school. I am still looking in the Los Angeles Times archives for the articles from 1947.
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I realized from a young age of 7 (1st grade) that I was attracted to black girls. To me it seemed more powerful and drawing than of a normal person who liked someone of his own race. I remember going home to tell my mom that I really liked this black girl in class and her response was, “well you are going to have to kiss her.” I said eeww! Knowing that a boy my age was not ready for such intimacy and the situation was over. I grew up as a shy quiet guy, keeping to myself most of the time and was very observant of others and listened a lot to adult conversations. I remember my grandfather talking of a family member who married someone who was black and they were killed. Not knowing the details of the situation I grew up wondering if I would go through the same thing and would I be strong enough to face it. I first told my parents that I was dating a black girl when I joined the Navy. They told me it was a phase that I was going through and that I should marry a nice blue eyed, blonde haired girl from church. Boy the expectations our parents have for us. I had quite a few heated conversations with my family, mostly my mom, and we discussed issues of how people would view her and my dad and that it might affect my dad’s job and people would talk. I told her that I don’t live my life for other people. My happiness should be more important that what your neighbors think. She tried to say that if we had kids and it didn’t work out and I met a nice white girl and she didn’t expect my children because they were mixed. I told her that if she is good enough to except my children no matter what they look like than she isn’t good enough for me. She told me how the kids would suffer because they wouldn’t be accepted by whites or blacks and would have all sorts of problems. I argued the opposite and how much better will they be able to connect with different races with experience from both but they will grow up to choose who they want to be and who they hang out with. After she couldn’t win they threatened to disown me and I was frank to tell them that if they didn’t want to be a part of my life then so be it and it was their loss. When a man leaves his parents to go out in the world and finds his soul mate then he leaves his parents and the wife becomes his priority. My wife and kids will always come first and we are a very happy, successful and loving family. When I married my wife back on Sep 11th, 1996, I accepted her and her 6 year old son. We had dated for 4 years before and it was a joy to raise a young black boy who his father denied him and never did anything for him. I had never realized that Kielin never understood that I wasn’t his biological father until he came home from school one day after kids had teased him and asked why I was so white and he was so dark. His mom had explained and at that point he didn’t care because when his mom gave him the option to call me Gary or dad, he chose dad and he said, ”that’s all I’ve ever known him by and he’s always been there for me so I’ll call him dad.” Meant a lot to me at that moment and we had a great relationship. I never cared about what other people thought and mostly people just complimented us as a wonderful family. We were well known in the church and everyone loves our children. It’s about who they are and how they act in the world more than what they look like. I just remember my mom telling relatives, “Well at least he’s not gay.” Well what if I was? My wife and I have discussed if our children grew up gay that we would love them the same and accept them the same. May not be what we believe but our children’s happiness comes first and I want to be a supportive parent. Now that my son, Kielin has passed away fighting in Afghanistan on 18 Feb 2010, I’ve never been prouder of who he grew up to be and the time that we have spent together. He has enriched my life by the times we have shared together and I will always be a proud father of my Marine.

One of the most stressful events of my life occurred from 1982 to 1983, roughly about 18 months. Yes this is something that happened 29 years ago and continues to be a very vivid part of my memory because it helped me learn a lot about myself and how to deal with adversity. A young naïve 21-year-old, I made the decision to join the United States Air Force. Before I describe my stressful event; let me tell you a little about my upbringing to help with understanding my stressful event. Both of my parents were born in South Carolina in the 1930s. At the age of 20 they decided to move to New Jersey to find work. They were born to sharecroppers and did not want to continue that life for themselves or their children. My dad completed high school, but my mom only had an elementary school education. After a few years of working in a clothing factory my dad got a job with General Motors. My mom continued to work in the clothing factory.
My parents and their four children lived in a three-bedroom apartment until 1971. With child number five on the way, one evening my dad informed the family that he saved enough money to purchase a home. I remember being both excited and sad, because I would have to move away from all of my friends. But my sorrow only lasted a little while. Once we moved into our own home life was great. My life was not bad before, but the apartment was a little small for five kids, two adults and a dog. Each kid had their own bedroom, a back yard to play in and of course I made lots of new friends.
I graduated from high school in 1979 and went to college for about two and half years, but had a strong desire to join the military. No one in my family had ever served in the military, so I cannot explain why I wanted to serve in the military. It was a bug that bit me and three of my friends my junior year in high school. My friends joined the military immediately after graduating from high school, two chose the Army and one the Navy. My mom forbid me from joining the military, she wanted me to go to college. Yes I could have ignored my mom and signed up anyway, but that was something easier said than done. I grew up in a very disciplined and strict household with lot of rules. Telling my mom I was going to join the military against her wishes were not an option for me at the time. Like most parents, my parents wanted my siblings and I to have more education and a chance at a better opportunity for success than they had. My mom did not want any of her kids to have to work in a factory to earn a living. I really did not enjoy my college years and finally got enough nerve to tell my parents I was quitting college and joining the Air Force. My parents was not very happy but I stuck with my decision.
The waiting list to join the Air Force was about a year. I worked for Lockheed as a secretary until it is time for me to leave for basic military training. Six weeks of basic training was full of stress most days, because the training instructors seem to always find something to yell at you for doing or not doing. It helped to know that it was a temporary situation and they were teaching me how to adapt to life in the Air Force. I graduated from basic training and received orders to my first duty station, McChord Air Force Base in Tacoma Washington. When I first read the orders and saw Washington, I immediately thought the District of Columbia. My excitement was short-lived once I realized that I was not going to Washington District of Columbia. I was going to be very far away from and living in a place I knew nothing about. I was experiencing a tremendous amount of stress now and I began to second-guess my decision to join the military. But I was not going to quit something for a second time, my parents would
kill me.
After spending a week at home, I got on the airplane and went to McChord Air Force Base. No one was at the airport to meet me like the training instructor said, and I had no idea how to get the Air Force Base. I finally asked a taxicab driver if he knew how far the Air Force Base was from the airport. His response was not very far and asked if I needed a ride. I said yes, he put my bags in the trunk of the taxicab and proceeded to drive me to the base. Not very far turned out to be a $100 taxicab ride! It was all the money I had; it never occurred to me that the ride to the base would cost that much money. After handing over all the money to my name to pay the cab driver, I reported to the place where I was going to work. The sergeant looked at me and said you do not work here. I walked away and looked at my orders again, the building I was standing in front of and the information in my orders matched. I went back into the building and this time I was met by the sergeant and a civilian manager. The two of them said “I told you,
you do not work here.” I showed them my orders, the sergeant looked and my orders and then said follow me. He took me to what I now know was orderly room (administrative office). I sat and waited while the sergeant went behind closed doors to talk to the Commander, after a few minutes the sergeant returned and said get your stuff and follow me. He took me to the dormitory to get a room and told me what time to report to work. I asked him where to report and he responded with “can’t you read what is written in your orders.”
A little surprised by his response, I reported to work the next morning. Everyone
treated me like I had done something wrong, I regretted my decision to join the military, I was nothing like what I learned in basic training and I wanted to go home. I did not know what I did wrong and did not feel welcome in my workplace. After about a week of mistreatment, I realized that I was the only African American working in the section. I was naïve but knew and understood that some people in the world did not like others people because of the color of their skin. It was the only explanation that I could think of for my mistreatment.
My parents told lots of stories about living in South Carolina and the Jim Crow laws. They also went to great length to protect us from prejudicial treatment. We were the most well behaved kids on the block and I never went to a sleepover or any of my friends birthday parties. For most of my life I lived in a community that was about 75% white and the other 25% with a mixture of Asians, Hispanic (the best nursing writing service, a studybay for your papers)s and African-Americans. As children we understood that our skin color was different, but we did not have racial issues, not even as teenagers. This was probably because mom kept me sheltered and protected from reality. She always told me that I may have to work and little harder to get the same things as some people, but if I put my mind to it I could do anything. My parents believed that the Civil Right laws made things better for their kids and they did, but laws do not change people’s feelings.
It saddens me to say my first real experience with racism happened in the United States Air Force. I was shocked and heartbroken to know that my supervisors and co-workers did not like me because of the color of my skin. A month after my arrival, three more African American were assigned to the workplace. I guess they decided to integrate the section and it started with me. A naïve 21 year old from New Jersey, who believed anything is possible if you believe you can and work hard to accomplish it. Race relations in the military and in the United States has improved a lot since 1983, but we all need to continue to face our stereotypes and biases regardless of whom we are. I do not want to ever want anyone to feel what I felt that day
in 1983.

One very stressful event in my life was the dissolution of my parents’ marriage. I was 9 years old and basically forced to be a participant in this divorce. My father had a substance abuse problem and I was the person that was there to see his decline and deal with his issues and symptoms associated with alcoholism and drug use. He would vomit profusely, refuse food and continue to drink. When he used drugs it was usually cocaine, which caused some massive nose bleeds which I had to take care of. I had grown up with these behaviors so although I was just “used to it” I know now that it caused me a great deal of stress. To matters more difficult, as the marriage was falling apart my mother worked nights, so I had to take care of my younger brother. I assumed the role of part time caregiver to not only my father but my brother as well.
However, the most trying part of the divorce was that I was forced to be involved in my parents’ arguments. I was the “man in the middle.” I remember an evening of shouting that culminated in myself being physically pulled between the two of them. My mother had one arm and my father the other. They yanked me back and forth until one of them won.
When my parents actually separated, I went to live with my father. The reason for this is my father, the alcoholic, had manipulated me into thinking that my mother was physically abusing me. This manipulation escalated to the point where child protective services were called to my home and a full investigation ensued. There was no abuse, but I was heavily influenced by someone that I loved and trusted.
I also had to take the witness stand during the dissolution of my parents’ marriage. At age 10, I was terrified of the judge and attorneys. All these years later I remember being so stressed that I got my first pimple, right on the end of my nose.

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