Brick Wall

Growing up, all I heard is how important school is. How school is going to determine my future and whether or not I'm going to excel or fail in my adult years. Always thinking my experiences in school would build my personality and character, I was surprised to find that as much as it affected me, my experiences outside of school made the greater impact. At large I've had my fair share of struggles but by far, the most important mountain God gave me to climb was overcoming my father's attempt at suicide and continuing my life when all I wanted to do was fall.

Recalling my past in regards to my father, I question why the amount of pain I felt that day was so great when I often referred to him as "the sperm donor" to friends who questioned his absence. After the night my father left, he became a once-a-year kind of dad, developing an addiction to drugs like cocaine as well as continuing his abuse of alcohol. Loathing his once-in-a-blue-moon visits by the age of eight years old, I often refused to participate in the visit. Showing up with a smiling face and open arms as well as an open hand for anything he could will us to give him, he pretended to be father of the year, in my eyes. Despite my detest for him, I didn't have it in my heart to rule him out of my life until about four years ago. Two and a half years later, I quickly changed my mind seeing my father sober for the first time since he left and realizing that this change was a legitimate one.

This choice made me reflect on myself and how mature I was being. Which, in turn, made me realize I had none other than my father to thank for this absurd level of maturity. By doing me wrong as a father, he actually did me a favor in the long-run. I may have had it harder than my classmates but because of that I became, in a sense, a brick wall. I could take anything thrown at me, any blow and face it head on with a straight head on my shoulders and a sense of calm, open-mindedness. I am close to unbreakable and no amount of teasing from peers, schooling or homework assignments could have brought on those essential life skills.

When released, my father paroled to our, and his previous, home. Skeptical at first, I eventually began to accept that maybe things would be whole again, that just maybe I would have my whole family as a support system, not just half of it. Happy, functional and together.

Unfortunately, the happy times ended abruptly a little over a month after they began. Coming home drunk one night, my father and mother got into a heated argument that quickly escalated into an all-out screaming war. Knowing my father had a tendency to get violent when drunk and angered, my mother called the police to prevent that very thing. After feeling as though he was going to lose everything, he slumped into the garage, his intentions unknown. Now that I know them, I'm glad I chose to follow him into the garage to try and talk