Babys First Hell

Reflection: The process of reaching this point in my essay was a struggle since day one. The

seemingly simple decision between writing about my literacy development or my development as

a person was very difficult, but it was a necessary decision. So I decided to include both, but

only my external influences I had a focus on. I really am not proud of this essay because I feel

greatly, that I could have included a lot more details, but I tried to keep it condensed just to try

and fit the parameters set by the assignment. All in all what I have in my essay is in fact, very

detailed. There is, in my mind, always room for improvement and there is no such thing as final

revisions. My questions for my readers would be to not judge too harshly on the content of my

piece, but rather the grammar and places I can improve the meaning.

Learning a first word can be a defining moment in any childs life. The praise received as

the undulations that incoherently come out of infants life become words and are giving meaning.

Your mouth moves in perfect synchronization as the vocal chords in your throat tighten and air is

perfectly exhumed out of your trachea. Mama or Dada common words uttered by children

whom were blessed with such simple conventions as marriage. Parents who love their child

passionately to the point of sacrificing themselves to the extent that their offspring would

survive, to possibly make the world a better place. Their children would live on long after they

were gone.

The meaning behind the words mama and dada, are what truly the parent desires

even if it does not come out perfectly. Considering my own experience this is not the case. The

shit storm that ensued as a little mixed baby boy uttered the words mama then dada. Two

words that had such power and importance could have severed the boundary between heaven and

hell. It may not have severed the world, my words, it did however sever something equally
important A union between husband and wife.

My very first memory. An origin of my life from then on. It was pitch black. Nothing

existed in the world. I didnt know anything, couldnt see anything, couldnt feel, couldnt taste,

couldnt hear, couldnt speak. Suddenly I opened my eyes and everything rushed in at once

overpowering me with senses and knowledge I couldnt understand. I knew what in my mind

everything was called when I saw them in my vision as I acclimated to my alien yet familiar

surroundings. I looked at my bed and knew what it was, what its purpose was.

I had no recollection of how I came to learn what these objects were. I found myself

touching the carpet of my understandably small room. This information acquired after returning

to my birthplace and visiting my very first and last family home. It was large at the time big

even. My toes spread apart as I enjoyed the texture of the carpet. The softness of it, and the sense

of calm it gave me after. I saw my little sisters crib in the distance. Even now it confuses me how

I knew what it was even without memory of how I came about this information. I could hear

slight rustling and a soft breathing coming from the crib. Walked back to my bed and grabbed the

small blue chair that was beside it. I walked back 18 steps - now what felt like 3 at my older age-

and placed it beside the crib. I leaned over and looked at my adorable little sister and the love I

felt for her rushed in. I reached in and my stomach was pressed down on the top of the guard rail.

I grabbed around my sleeping sisters shoulders. She was a baby at the time, and lifted her up to

a sitting position. Reflexively she woke up and began to cry.

I got my hands under her shoulders as I teetered back to feel the chair press against my

toes. My stomach crying out in a dull but manageable pain increased by the weight of my sisters

weight in my hands. I placed her on my chest as I stepped back onto the carpet. Joy flowing

through me again as the feel of the carpet rubbed between my toes. I couldnt handle my sister
but for a few minutes. What cut the interaction was the quick yet painful scratch of her little

fingernails gouging into my eyelid. It left a scar that was there even until today.

My love I felt for my sister was a defining point in my life that influenced my character

today. I began to enjoy feeling those same types of feelings in my interactions with other people.

All my purpose in life was to please anyone who I was around.

I know this is dangerous thinking so now I try to not be so impulsive about it. I find

myself still however doing this.

As a child growing up my mother would happen to teach me words. She told me that

growing up I always had a knack for learning literature. Able to write my name- with a

backwards J- and say the pledge of allegiance to a flag that symbolized a country of hate,

prosperity, and sorrow. Even at the age of three I began to notice differences between myself and

my family. My cousins, who were always a couple years older than me, felt inadequate in speech

compared to my skill with vocabulary. They loved me to death, but would at many times

ostracize me from playing, in ways that were subtle enough for my other cousins to notice. I

would notice however. It caused me to become angry as a person where I felt even my family

didnt have love for me.

My first memory of my parents interactions in an affectionate manner was the largest

fight I had seen between them at the time. My mother threw things at my dad. The amount of

yelling that had happened made me feel fear. I sat and watched as my mom stabbed my dad in

the arm. The scream of rage, that was hard for me at the time to understand, stabbed into my

mind at the same time the silver glint of the blade plunged into his shoulder. Many fights

occurred throughout their 5 years of marriage only 3 years was the extent that I had the luck to
experience. My sister, bless her heart, got the better end of the stick. I found myself despising her

for that innocence only building on the rage that I had accumulated from years of arguments and

fights experienced throughout the times during my parents divorce.

While my parents were divorced for a year I lived with my grandmother, sister, and my

dad. I always had the family surrounding me to keep my mind and heart occupied from the

constant sting of fear and sadness that plagued my young heart. While I lived these many years, I

was plagued with nightmares that displayed acts of a single monster that can be defined as Abi

Yoyo, a character from a book with the same name created by Pete Seeger. Every nightmare had

consisted of him eating a family member especially my sister whom I loved dearly. Every time

he would plague me with images of him killing my family members I began to feel terror that he

would truly eat them in real life. I began to become very protecting of my family and that still is

with me today.

I know as a sensible young man that the possibility of this happening is negative infinity,

but the fear was so deep seated I still do it today but less extensively.

As I got older in age around six, I began realizing the difference between myself in likes

and dislikes. I grew up feeling inadequate with myself not in my skills of literacy, which had

developed into skills of manipulation, but the size of my body, and the skill in other areas which

I didnt have. I always compared myself to other people and wanted to become them.

For years, my mother told me stories of how I would imitate movies and videos and

things I saw. I imitated them so much I became them in a sense of thought processes and actions.

If a character in a piece of literature was evil, I was evil. If he was good, I was good, and

etcetera. In some cases, I reenacted certain actions of these characters. In daycare around the age
of 5 my mother told me she got a call from the daycare, and they told her that I had flipped a

table and caused things to spill everywhere. I went behind it and began saying I hated Christmas!

This she said had happened shortly a few minutes of watching, How a Grinch Stole Christmas.

I got into a lot of trouble as a kid, and most of my influences in life that caused me to be

the person I am today were from mainly fear, sorrow, anger, depression, and negativity toward

my parents divorce. These influences cause me to think things in a way I must battle on an

everyday basis. I struggle from a day to day basis, but my mother now with a new husband who

have helped me to better myself as an individual truly allow me to live with my past. Even with

saddening beginnings, I had evolved as an individual and matured to a level of understanding

that not every bad situation leads to something bad. Good things can come from any situation

and I am a person that emulates that very understanding.

Second Draft

Through darkness comes

Learning a first word can be a defining moment in any childs life. The praise received as

the undulations that incoherently come out of infant's life become words and are giving

meaning. Your mouth moves in perfect synchronization as the vocal chords in your throat tighten

and air is perfectly exhumed out of your trachea. Mama or Dada common words uttered by

children whom were blessed with such simple conventions as marriage. Parents who love their

child passionately to the point of sacrificing themselves to the extent that their offspring would
survive, to possibly make the world a better place. Their children would live on long after they

were gone.

The meaning behind the words mama and dada, are what truly the parent desires even

if it does not come out perfectly. Considering my own experience this is not the case. The shit

storm that ensued as a little mixed baby boy uttered the words mama , and then dada. Two

words that had such power and importance could have severed the boundary between heaven and

hell. It may not have severed the world, my words, it did however sever something equally

important A union between husband and wife.

My mother at the time was a young woman -whom she herself felt- got into a relationship

at too young of an age. She could be described as mentally unstable from the constant abuse of

her parents. Through my father she tried to find a way to escape. So, when she turned 18 she

married my dad. She had me a couple months later at the age of 19. Many could say it was too

young, especially someone who was looking for escape.

The moment she became pregnant with the man, she could personally say she felt not

much love for, was the day that started my life of anger and hatred.

My very first memory.

I could hear slight rustling and a soft breathing coming from my sisters crib. Walked back to my

bed and grabbed the small blue chair that was beside it. I walked back 18 steps - now what felt

like 3 at my older age- and placed it beside the crib. I leaned over and looked at my adorable

little sister and the love I felt for her rushed in. I reached in and my stomach was pressed down

on the top of the guard rail. I grabbed around my sleeping sisters shoulders. She was a baby at

the time, and lifted her up to a sitting position. Reflexively she woke up and began to cry.
I got my hands under her shoulders as I teetered back to feel the chair press against my toes. My

stomach crying out in a dull but manageable pain increased by the weight of my sisters weight

in my hands. I placed her on my chest as I stepped back onto the carpet. Joy flowing through me

again as the feel of the carpet rubbed between my toes. I couldnt handle my sister but for a few

minutes. What cut the interaction was the quick yet painful scratch of her little fingernails

gouging into my eyelid. It left a scar that is there even until today. Even through the pain I still

loved her. She was my sister and at the time i was angry and cried for my mom, but I still love

her even today. Even when I look in the mirror and notice the scar I received from her, Im still

reminded of the love I feel of her.

My love I felt for my sister was a defining point in my life that influenced my character today. I

began to enjoy feeling those same types of feelings in my interactions with other people. All my

purpose in life was to please anyone who I was around.

I know this is dangerous thinking so now I try to not be so impulsive about it. I find myself still

however doing this.

As a child growing up my mother would happen to teach me words. She told me that growing up

I always had a knack for learning literature. Able to write my name- with a backwards J- and say

the pledge of allegiance to a flag that symbolized a country of hate, prosperity, and sorrow. Even

at the age of three I noticed differences between myself and my family. My cousins, who were

always a couple years older than me, felt inadequate in speech compared to my skill with

vocabulary. They loved me to death, but would at many times ostracize me from playing, in ways

that were subtle enough for my other cousins to notice. I would notice however. It caused me to

become angry as a person where I felt even my family didnt have love for me.
 My first memory of my parents interactions in an affectionate manner was the largest

fight I had seen between them at the time. My mother threw things at my dad. The amount of

yelling that had happened made me feel fear. I sat and watched as my mom stabbed my dad in

the arm. The scream of rage, that was hard for me at the time to understand, stabbed into my

mind at the same time the silver glint of the blade plunged into his shoulder. Many fights

occurred throughout their 5 years of marriage only 3 years was the extent that I had the luck to

experience. My sister, bless her heart, got the better end of the stick. I found myself despising her

for that innocence only building on the rage that I had accumulated from years of arguments and

fights experienced throughout the times during my parents divorce.

While my parents were divorced, for a year post-divorce. I lived with my grandmother,

sister, and my dad. I always had the family surrounding me to keep my mind and heart occupied

from the constant sting of fear and sadness that plagued my young heart. While I lived these

many years, I was plagued with nightmares that displayed acts of a single monster that can be

defined as Abi Yoyo, a character from a book with the same name created by Pete Seeger. Every

nightmare had consisted of him eating a family member especially my sister whom I loved

dearly. Every time he would plague me with images of him killing my family members I began

to feel terror that he would truly eat them in real life. I began to become very protecting of my

family and that still is with me today.

I know as a sensible young man that the possibility of this happening is negative infinity,

but the fear was so deep seated I still do it today but less extensively.

As I got older in age around six, I began realizing the difference between myself in likes

and dislikes. I grew up feeling inadequate with myself not in my skills of literacy, which had

developed into skills of manipulation, but the size of my body, and the skill in other areas which
I didnt have. I always compared myself to other people and wanted to become them.

For years, my mother told me stories of how I would imitate movies and videos and things

I saw. I imitated them so much I became them in a sense of thought processes and actions. If a

character in a piece of literature was evil, I was evil. If he was good, I was good, and etcetera. In

some cases, I reenacted certain actions of these characters. In daycare around the age of 5 my

mother told me she got a call from the daycare, and they told her that I had flipped a table and

caused things to spill everywhere. I went behind it and began saying I hated Christmas! This she

said had happened shortly a few minutes of watching, How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

I got into a lot of trouble as a kid, and most of my influences in life that caused me to be the

person I am today were from mainly fear, sorrow, anger, depression, and negativity toward my

parents divorce. The person I am today could be viewed as kind-hearted. A person who puts

others over himself. An individual that finds goodness in all things. These influences cause me to

think things in a way I must battle on an everyday basis. I struggle from a day to day basis, but

my mother now with a new husband named ollie. He is a very strong willed person. He is caring

and compassionate, even though he comes from a military background. He has taken care of me

and my mother and sister since i was 6. He has helped me to better myself as an individual, and

truly allow me to live with my past. Even with saddening beginnings, I had evolved as an

individual and matured to a level of understanding that not every bad situation leads to

something bad. Good things can come from any situation and I am a person that emulates that

very understanding.