Pretending that easy solutions exist for difficult personal problems, or pretending that the problem doesn’t exist is harmful. Personal problems are something that you deal with, boldly, aggressively and head on; not like they aren’t real. Problems should never be taking lightly because they always end up having a bad ending. Language master LM 4000, a computer dictionary, explains or define pretend as being an act as if something is real, or true when it is not, and also defining harmful as a physical or mental damage; mischief.
When I think of these two wrongs and then relating pretend and harmful to anything associated with personal and or a problem, I can’t imagine wanting to incorporate those two nouns and verbs together. Growing up I always played pretend; pretend friends, pretend food, and I even pretend when sharing my emotions. When I was younger, ten years of age, I moved in with my god-parents, Mr. and Mrs. Diaz. I was born into the military, my mother, Glenda, was a nurse, and my father, Willie Mack was an officer.
A couple of years after having me, my mom and dad started having relationship and career complication. They were both unhappy with their jobs, and it was starting to affect them; distancing themselves from one another. After years of grief and other unrelated situations my dad became very abusive to my mom and me. My mom always told me, “ It’s okay baby, it will get better, things aren’t as bad as they seem,” adding “ don’t tell anyone okay? ” For two long years my mother played pretend with everyone, I sometime join.
She pretended that my dad abusive ways, wasn’t as bad as they were, she pretended that one day soon, he would stop beating her. My mom became a human robot, when her closes friends would ask how she was, she would consistently reply, “Things are good, everything couldn’t be better. ” I believe my mother adapted to her daily abusive so well, that she honest retained a perfect family lifestyle. Not only was there a problem, my father abusive, but my mother acted like it didn’t exist, which was the worst problem of all, starting the harmful process.
One day after “recess,” my teacher, Ms. Short, notice marks on my lower back, she questioned me, “what’s going on, what’s happen, where have those marks come from, is everything okay. ” Not only did I confess and told the truth, I didn’t uphold this pretend lifestyle that my mother encouraged me to promote. I feel like, still to this day, that since I reveal and made known of our true conditions, I stopped this harmful act. Furthermore, since we pretended so long, that when things did come to light, more painful and harmful things followed.
Not only showing that it’s harmful to pretend problems don’t exist, but when you do deal with that personal problem finally, it has a greater possibility of leading to additional harmful circumstances. My parents not only got terminated from the military, but they got a divorce, they both became heavy strung on drugs, and they both lost rights to me. See, it’s evident that since Glenda pretended that that personal problem didn’t exist, she lost everything, her job, her husband, and her child.
Making that very harmful and making her and that “outcome” ending badly. After moving into my god-parents house, Colby and Shi Diaz, I experience some heavy pretending myself, which ended up harming me in ways I could have prevented. Growing up in the military there was a lot of diversity, so you can image the self esteem controversy I dealt with coming from that atmosphere, and ending up in the Walnut Creek, California environment. Walnut Creek is a suburban, ninety-five percent, Caucasian city.
From beginning, I pretended that I wasn’t an outcast, which I was treated like by the neighborly residents daily, and I also pretended that I wasn’t a victim of racism and racial profiling, which happen every other day. More importantly, I pretended so much, that I started to believe that I wasn’t worthy of the things others had around me, including accepting and believing the methods of meanness I submitted to in my “rich” neighborhood. Everyday going to and from home and school, I had some of the most out-of-body experiences; I was teased uncontrollably, was named called dangerously, and looked at with toxic stares.
Once I got home I did nothing but stress. “How was your day, anything you want to talk about,” Shi and Colby would ask me daily. “Nope, nothing at all, everything is great,” I replied. By the age of sixteen, I was trying to take my life, trying to overdose on over counter drugs hourly; taking about five pills every hour. Not dealing with the emotions and hardship that I was feeling inside and enduring outside, I pretended and prayed that it would end soon, some of the things that I encountered I just acted like didn’t happen.
December 20, 2003 I was faced with reality, I overdosed; I was unconscious for three whole days, making that situations end very badly. Ruggiero, author of Becoming a Critical Thinker, says “procrastination prevents you from doing your best and adds tension to your life. It’s hard to feel contented with yourself when you know that an unpleasant task awaits your attention. And the longer you wait, the larger it looms,” (xviii). If my mother would have handled that abusive relationship, right away, instead of procrastinating, our outcome would have been totally contradictorily.
If I would had spoke about my feelings, talked about what I was going through on a average day, or even took the professional help that was offer to me, instead of tolerating it, I wouldn’t had added to my tension, that I was already dealing with. If my mom and I would had handle our situation differently, rather than pretending that it didn’t exist or pretending there was an easy solution to our difficult problem, we wouldn’t have had a devastating ending.
Courtney from Study Moose
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