Selina Kyle's Story-Personal Narrative

My relationship with my father has been different. He used to drink a lot while when I was younger, but although he would come under those conditions, he still would have the time and dedication to play with me. When I was younger I used to spend lots of time with my father, he would try to show me how to repair cars, I remember getting all greasy by trying to help him, but after a while I was sent to live with my grandmother, so our

A couple years ago,( my freshman year), my family received a very terrifying phone call from the police station. That early sunday morning my sister was in a death car accident.

“My dad enjoyed alcohol; a lot. He never yelled at us, but when my mom was having her ‘episodes’, that was what we called them, he would leave us alone with her. He said he had trouble dealing with her when she was having problems. I think he was cheating on my mom, but I could never prove that and he would never admit to it either.”

Many times in my life, I have received many lessons from my father. My father is a special man, he's nurtured me, cared for me in a way no man will ever get to do. My dad is someone who I can always say has been there for me, and i couldn't ever imagine life without him. Yet, there is one thing i can't ever forget. He's an alcoholic. My "dad" was never there, the alcohol was. There were times when i just couldn't believe to smell the alcohol on his breath. My whole life, my dad was in the Navy, so we moved around a lot. We never really had a home until i was around 7 years old, so through that time we struggled to have a real family due to us living out of boxes. When we bought our home in Harbor Ridge, things changed. My dad was really there, he went to my sporting events, he was home for dinner, and he was even there to tuck me into bed

The first time I met Sofia was at Chuckie Cheese. I was twelve at the time and my dad had come to the conclusion that after 10 months, he would finally introduce me to the half sibling I didn’t know existed. At the time, my parents had been separated for over a year and the idea of my “cookie cutter” family breaking up had still not fully resonated to my siblings and I. Sofia was just a few months at the time, and in the first hour I met her I had determined that she cried too much and that I hated her. I hated that she represented a secret my dad had kept from us and that she was reassurance that my family would never return to the way we used to be. But most of all, I hated that she was so innocent and pure, yet she was placed unknowingly into a world of so much danger.

The summers in Assur were incredibly hot and dry, and I had spent the day working ambitiously with my father and brother irrigating the crop so it would not die. The sun had set for some time now, so we decided to call it a day and go inside for dinner. While we were working on the farm my mother and sister had been cooking in the kitchen in order to feed a household of five. My father had sat down at the head of the table and called for my sister to bring him his liquor, My father was a mean drunk, laughing at himself, demanding from my mother and my sister, insulting my brother and I, while we sat in silence. Most nights this would carry on until he had drank himself to sleep, but that night he order my mother to bring himself a fifth cup of liquor. When she told him the bottle was empty, he grabbed her viciously by the hair. “Well why don’t you go buy some more?” my father said, throwing her a coin. He then struck my mother across the face twice, and on the second time she fell to the floor. My sister rushed to help her up, “sit down!” he commanded. My brother and I were furious, but what could we do? It was the law, he was allowed to hit my mother as he so pleased. So I offered to go into the city to get him his liquor, and my brother agreed to watch over my mother and sister in the meantime.

I’d like to thank my pink Disney princess television for the continuous distraction from the lack of affection. As I sat on my tiny chair confused by the loud stumbling outside of the living room window, my mother encouraged me to stare at whatever show was playing. In my mind, I knew exactly what was occurring. My father once again arrived after a long day of work and a long night of drinking. This occurrence was extremely repetitive until the end of my junior year of high school when my father accepted the help he deserved to get back on track with his life. Being a shy child, I remember observing my father’s alcoholism create disputes with my mother, affect us insecure children, and formed an overall unstable household.

My family of five shattered into pieces in 2014 and changed my life forever. My parents had separated, which led my mom to renting out a duplex nearby, until just last December when we moved into a house. With my dad “working” night shift at the post office and putting alcohol above the three of us kids, we stayed at moms a majority of the time. My mom left for work around 6am every morning so she would wake us all up about 5:45 every morning so we could get dressed for school and be dropped off at our dads to catch the bus an hour later. That hour in the morning, which was spent mostly sleeping on the couch, was the only interaction we had with our dad since he was still in a stage of depression. During this period, dad rarely ever attended any school or sport events and separated himself. The alcohol started before the divorce. I remember I received 4 concert tickets to see my favorite band, at the time. I asked my cousin, Lauren, and friend Jordyn to come along with my dad and I. That night, my father slipped away to the bar and when he came back to the seats drunk he grabbed my arm and pulled me rows ahead. Security took my dad out of the venue then came back to get my friends and I. Emblem3 had just came to the stage and I will forever blame my father for ruining my 14th birthday from getting us kicked out of the concert.

Ever since the night with Joey, my sister’s father, my mother and her boyfriend, at the time, began to drink more and more every night. My mother was already an alcoholic, a cheater, and a liar, and she had been for most of my childhood. I believe what drove my sister’s father ton this action was the fact that my mom started seeing someone behind his back, and then broke up with him after she was already dating another man. This new boyfriend, Donald, seemed to be a good respectable man in the beginning, but then things took a turn for the worst. Donald began to drink like my mother, and he would hurt her behind closed doors.

Growing up my life has been filled with countless blessings. I have four siblings. Two brothers and two sisters; thankfully I have known my parents my whole life. My father and mother both worked a lot when I was younger, leaving my older siblings to babysit the younger ones. My father had a job in Cleveland and would come to visit us in Columbus whenever he was off. Sometimes I wouldn’t see my dad for months because he worked so hard to make ends meet. Because of this, he wouldn’t have his health get in the way of working. Months would go by before I could see him again and that took a tole on me emotionally. My dad was a heavy smoker and was addicted to nicotine. Whenever he didn’t have a cigarette he was like an angry

When I was five years old my parents got a divorce. My father was abusive towards me on many occasions and was known to cheat on my mom. I remember him getting mad at me one time, he proceeded to kick me multiple times with cowboy boots on. It was so bad I could not sit down for a week. He would not play a significant role in my life going forward. “…children with abusive fathers may disengage from their fathers, preferring to distance and buffer themselves from the harmful effects of negative paternal involvement” (Dick,2005). Not having a positive father figure present in my life, has negatively affected my life in countless ways.

I am the oldest of six children in my family. My mother has been an alcoholic since the time I was young. She was almost completely sober up until the time I was two. See ever since my mom was young she would never really accept the fact that she could be at fault for things. My grandparents said that when she was younger she would blame them or her siblings for her problems in school, life, and things like that and she could never take responsibility for her actions. My mother was very much in love with my biological father. They would do everything together and would never be apart and soon they got married. Then they decided they wanted to have a child and that’s when they had

As a young and mindless child, I never understood why my dad would always home drunk. I remember every week seeing my dad drunk and out of this world. He would just come in barging into the house all loud, waking up my mom and little brother. My mother would always get onto him for getting drunk. None of us liked it. We did not like to see my dad act the way he did. He would act all crazy and sometimes even abusive. I hated seeing my father and mother argue. I never understood why my dad drank so much til the point where he was not conscious. He was not always like this. In fact, he did not even like the taste of alcohol. Something changed my father, and until this day I now understand what he went through. I could remember the good memories of my family before my dad begun to drink. I could remember my father, mother, and little brother sharing stories at the dinner table. We would always be laughing telling jokes. My favorite hobby was dancing, while my little brothers were reading. He would like to read and sometimes he would tell imaginative stories. He had a creative and imaginative mind. I remember one-day watching tv of a couple dancing and ever since, dancing became my hobby til this day. My father and mother loved to dance, I can still imagine them right in front of me gliding through the floor smoothly as if they ice skating. My father and I would always waltz. It was something special that we would do. At first, I did not know how to dance of

As I looked up with my arms wide open asking “Uppie uppie?”..my father says “Okay EB, one last time” as he picked me up and held me, I noticed his gestures. Ever since I was young, I’ve always had the power of observing and memorizing what surrounded me. Then, it hit me. The strange characteristics my father held. His aggressive temper, the impatient OCD, the odd jokes directed at my mother, the constant blaming as if he never made mistakes. Twas the night time that I dreaded the most. His time to “shine”. His enjoyment was down in the basement watching either football or baseball and through the thin walls I could hear that snap of a beer can opening. Every single night. I was about eleven years old when I finally connected the dots. Those dots meant everything but also meant nothing. My father is an alcoholic. At this developing age, I never understood

Ever since the night with Joey, my sister’s father, my mother and her boyfriend, at the time, began to drink more and more every night. My mother was already an alcoholic, a cheater, and a liar, and she had been for most of my childhood. I believe what drove my sister’s father ton this action was the fact that my mom started seeing someone behind his back, and then broke up with him after she was already dating another man. This new boyfriend, Donald, seemed to be a good respectable man in the beginning, but then things took a turn for the worst. Donald began to drink like my mother, and he would hurt her behind closed doors. Until one night, after I had