Jenna Bean
When I was 10-years-old, I gave my mom a note that said, "You are a bich!" and she laughed and showed me my mistake.
When I was 10-years-old, I gave my mom a note that said, "You are a bich!" and she laughed and showed me my mistake.
My uncle's secret of being a trans-sexual was revealed when the undertaker referred to him as "he/she."
My mom paused while vacuuming to tell me she's afraid my brother will kill himself, which I've known for the past seven years.
I lost most of my friends, the respect of my parents, and the desire to kill myself when I finally told everyone the truth about what I believe.
If you think it's degrading to be a trophy wife, try being a trophy child.
For some reason I found it incredibly funny when my white grandmother held my black hand and whispered to me, "You know, I was really disappointed when your brother decided to marry a black woman."
When my 8-year-old niece came home from her friend's birthday party and assured me that she did not drink any beer, I knew something was very wrong with our culture.
When I finally downloaded the contents of my 3-year-old's birthday digital camera, I found pictures of another woman kissing my husband.
My sister tells me she watched our mom cry when I came out as gay to which I reply that I watched our mom cry when she ran away, stole the car, and got mom arrested.
I was having hot and steamy sex wearing nothing but my grandma's pearls, wondering if she had ever done the same exact thing.
I just saw my uncle get arrested on a 1994 episode of Cops.
When my dad finally decided that having a gay child was better than having a dead child, we started talking again.
As a child I wrote in my journal how much I hated my mother and wished I would die, but as an adult, when she told me she had read my childhood journal, I hated myself for writing such horrible things.
I don't even live in Arkansas, but I just learned that my uncle may be my dad, and that my mother's "sister" is probably my grandmother.
My Jewish family had a lovely Christmas dinner with a Muslim family talking about art, architecture, wine, and the world and yet there is still violence in the Middle East.
It's hard lying to the parents who raised you to be an honest man, even for the sake of your little sister.
In China, they said we couldn't plays cards in the lobby, so we played with candy wrappers instead till the ones with candy still in them won.
A lesson learned is don't ever post anything on your website that you don't want your sister-in-law to steal from you and use against your brother.
We bought a house last week but we haven't told our friends or family.
The sight of my usually stoic mother weeping on the lid of her brother's casket is one I wish I could have gone a lifetime without seeing.
I couldn't tear my eyes away from the chair, still warm, as they carted your body away.
Over the last month, the cold reality of life has struck since one uncle died, another uncle had a stroke, my mother found out she has breast cancer and my grandmother is on her way to an assisted living facility.
You would think that the weirdest thing about my family is that my step grandma is younger then my mom, but in fact it the strange thing is that she is sleeping with my mom's brother.
On her deathbed, she reached for my hand despite not knowing exactly who I was and with a thin but honest smile, asked, "However did you escape?"
My parents filed for divorce on my brother's birthday but waited to tell us until mine that next week.
Even while my father was standing in the driveway, telling my family he didn't love my mother and couldn't stay, he was still my hero.
It took me getting pregnant at 18 for my family to finally realize I'm not a child anymore.
They drove frantically as she bled and lost their twins.
When the catheter tore through my mother's heart, it tore through absolutely everything.
We collectively realized she was gone when we sat down to eat our Thanksgiving dinner and realized that nobody made the gravy this year.
Dad's been dead for six years and Mom died eight months ago, but my sister who was supposed to "take care of everything" just now got around to paying for their headstone.
I love watching people's faces as they realize that when I'm talking about my parents, it's not Mom and Dad but Mom and Deb.
I used to take my grandmother's ring off my finger before I bent over the toilet after every meal out of fearing my grandmother could see me.
That shirt that says "Sisters - Emotional Tech Support" makes me sad because I've always had to outsource.
To this day I still entertain the idea that my father's death was just an awful conspiracy.
The cardboard paper camel I made my stepfather for his birthday is still hanging on the wall, left and abandoned, like us.
Having bent all of our spoons my mother finally bought an ice cream scoop.
Invariably, I take the time between her first (unanswered) phone call and the second to sober up enough to form coherent sentences.
When she told us last night she didn't realize she had just terminated any relationship she hoped to have with her grandkids someday.
When you asked how I got the poison ivy on my back, I didn't have the heart to tell you it was from rolling around in the grass with my new boyfriend.
They say that depression runs in my family, but that doesn't help me much right now.
Five years and an engagement ring later, my brother forgave his ex-best-friend for hitting on his little sister.
And that's when I decided to let my friends choose their own bridesmaid's dresses when my wedding came.
My 70-year-old grandmother jumped over a high wall to save my cousin who had stupidly locked himself in his trunk.
I didn't cry when my grandma died so I refuse to let myself cry because of anything else.
The snow fell of the roof with a heavy thud, just like my poor Uncle Martin did a few winters prior.
Tears poured down my cheeks when I heard my Dad was going to Iraq.
As I wiped the dried blood from his hands, I couldn't know that I would never see him again.
My uncle would always say, "Good night, Danny, I'll see you in the morning," and the first and only time he didn't say "I'll see you in the morning," was the night he died.
I moved away to college thinking that I wouldn't miss my family, but I really wish I could see them right now.
I fear that people would believe me to be a malingerer, and even my estranged father, upon hearing about the dilemma which my symptoms presented, commented, "I think you're allergic to work."
Tonight I had to tell my youngest son to stay in his room with the door locked because his brother was in such a rage.
I have never felt so empty and sad as I do this year at Christmas.
I knew as I walked out, you'd make sure your brother and sister were safe, but I never expected you to survive your childhood.
At 24, I look around my old bedroom in my parent's house and wonder how I ended up here again.
The only night he didn't say, "I'll see you tomorrow," was the night he passed away.
I should be sleeping, but I keep thinkig about all of the things I need to do, should have done, and about how I don't want to screw everything up.
My sister once caught me looking at her chest.
I was more than half asleep when I heard my father speaking, but I didn't understand he was telling me she was dead.
It was wrong when I fell in love with my sexy cousin, but it was gross when I found out she was actually my sister.
Having left behind my old life in London for a new one on the other side of the world, I soon came to realise that possesions are like old dead relatives - you miss them for a while, but soon forget what they were like to have around.