1st Draft. Please critique.
Posted: Tue Oct 14, 2014 3:48 pm
Not sure about the transition from past to present. Please let me know what you think can be added/subtracted.
Length: 643 words, just short of two pages
Throughout my childhood and adolescence, I struggled with the concept of family. Apart from the white picket fence, my mother, father, two years younger brother, and I appeared to be an archetype of the idyllic, modern American family. Dad endured a lengthy commute to the city for his corporate nine-to-five while Mom excelled in her suburban, soccer mom role shuttling around my brother and me in her Ford Windstar van. Despite happily spending many hours together I began to feel like an outsider in my own home. My mother and brother seemed to share a bond stronger than I had with either party, and my father’s lofty expectations, which were only exceeded by his anger and disappointment when not met, created a contentious relationship. This did not match the idea of family that I had developed. Why?
I, losing sleep and gaining only farfetched doubts, was never able to answer. Lacking a connection to my mom and brother my dad’s domineering persona molded me into a solitary perfectionist. As a ten-year-old, I remember receiving the results of a statewide standardized test and interrogating my teacher about why my score report stated that I scored in just the ninety-ninth percentile. I sighed with relief when she assured me it was the highest achievable mark. When I was eleven, the disconnect reached its apex. My soccer team suffered a tough loss, and my dad was not happy with my performance. As I walked off of the pitch, my mom attempted to rescue me from the impending wrath, but with the point of a finger and vitriolic delivery of “you’re riding home with me” my mom and I were rendered powerless. I fixed my gaze toward the sky as I was mercilessly berated during the entire thirty-minute ride home. Sadly, this discipline had become so commonplace that I was numb to it. However, Mom was ready to finally put her foot down. Years of half-hearted threats of separation and “vacations without Dad” gave way to an ultimatum. Start attending family and marriage counseling, or I am leaving with the kids.
Complex and elongated, the healing process began. This marked the first time that my family opened up about everything and started to understand how the others were honestly feeling. My mother, brother, and I were able to quickly discuss our feelings but Dad was not as receptive. The struggles were difficult, yet progress was palpable and a keen eye was able to see that healing was not far away. Nothing in my life has been more impactful than the family bond that has continued to be cultivated as a result of these initial counseling efforts. After years of being acquaintances more so than brothers, at the age of eighteen, I could finally call my brother a friend. Shortly thereafter, my brother became, and has remained, my best friend. A host of personal road bumps fought by each family member have only strengthened our resolve and compassion. Once scared to express my feelings and share them with my family, they are now the first people that I call.
Why, in my younger years, was my family not what I expected? What I expected a family to be could only be attained by hard work and empathy. Four people cannot come together without each of them wanting it to work. While we used to appear to be a happy family, I now believe that we actually are. In addition to the obvious “hard work pays off” mantra, the power of this bond has inspired me to never back down from a challenge or feel like I have to overcome an obstacle on my own. Witnessing the powerful results of both introspection and self-expression, I no longer lament when I find myself in undesirable circumstances. I know my family will be there for me, and I for them.
Length: 643 words, just short of two pages
Throughout my childhood and adolescence, I struggled with the concept of family. Apart from the white picket fence, my mother, father, two years younger brother, and I appeared to be an archetype of the idyllic, modern American family. Dad endured a lengthy commute to the city for his corporate nine-to-five while Mom excelled in her suburban, soccer mom role shuttling around my brother and me in her Ford Windstar van. Despite happily spending many hours together I began to feel like an outsider in my own home. My mother and brother seemed to share a bond stronger than I had with either party, and my father’s lofty expectations, which were only exceeded by his anger and disappointment when not met, created a contentious relationship. This did not match the idea of family that I had developed. Why?
I, losing sleep and gaining only farfetched doubts, was never able to answer. Lacking a connection to my mom and brother my dad’s domineering persona molded me into a solitary perfectionist. As a ten-year-old, I remember receiving the results of a statewide standardized test and interrogating my teacher about why my score report stated that I scored in just the ninety-ninth percentile. I sighed with relief when she assured me it was the highest achievable mark. When I was eleven, the disconnect reached its apex. My soccer team suffered a tough loss, and my dad was not happy with my performance. As I walked off of the pitch, my mom attempted to rescue me from the impending wrath, but with the point of a finger and vitriolic delivery of “you’re riding home with me” my mom and I were rendered powerless. I fixed my gaze toward the sky as I was mercilessly berated during the entire thirty-minute ride home. Sadly, this discipline had become so commonplace that I was numb to it. However, Mom was ready to finally put her foot down. Years of half-hearted threats of separation and “vacations without Dad” gave way to an ultimatum. Start attending family and marriage counseling, or I am leaving with the kids.
Complex and elongated, the healing process began. This marked the first time that my family opened up about everything and started to understand how the others were honestly feeling. My mother, brother, and I were able to quickly discuss our feelings but Dad was not as receptive. The struggles were difficult, yet progress was palpable and a keen eye was able to see that healing was not far away. Nothing in my life has been more impactful than the family bond that has continued to be cultivated as a result of these initial counseling efforts. After years of being acquaintances more so than brothers, at the age of eighteen, I could finally call my brother a friend. Shortly thereafter, my brother became, and has remained, my best friend. A host of personal road bumps fought by each family member have only strengthened our resolve and compassion. Once scared to express my feelings and share them with my family, they are now the first people that I call.
Why, in my younger years, was my family not what I expected? What I expected a family to be could only be attained by hard work and empathy. Four people cannot come together without each of them wanting it to work. While we used to appear to be a happy family, I now believe that we actually are. In addition to the obvious “hard work pays off” mantra, the power of this bond has inspired me to never back down from a challenge or feel like I have to overcome an obstacle on my own. Witnessing the powerful results of both introspection and self-expression, I no longer lament when I find myself in undesirable circumstances. I know my family will be there for me, and I for them.