Yes, I know essays are due in a week. I know.
Anyways this is what I have so far for essay E, I plan to elaborate on how my mom impacted me by inspiring me to strive for a better life. It influenced me to make the right choices and develop a better understanding of mental ilness and addiction. I also wanna write a bit how mental ilness is so abundant but has such a stigma and why it is important to understand it. Thanks in advance!
Here is what I have so far.
Choose an issue of importance to you - the issue could be personal, school related, local, political, or international in scope - and write an essay in which you explain the significance of that issue to yourself, your family, your community, or your generation.
Everyone says I’m the spitting image of my father. We shared hazel eyes and raven hair. However, it was my Mother’s eccentric personality I really inherited. Growing up, I was quite the Mommy’s girl. We could laugh for hours and I would follow her around like a lost puppy. I even begged my Mom to give me blonde highlights so I could look more like her. Bold and liberated, my Mother was my hero. My young eyes watched her with admiration but my innocence blinded me from the truth. Behind my Mother’s sweet smile, she was broken. My Mom was suffering from major depression and like most people with a mental illnesses; she drank to numb the pain.
Curing her problems with a vodka bottle only provided temporary relief so she kept drinking. Like a wildfire, the addiction grew and threatened to destroy anything in the way. First, it destroyed her. Black circles hugged her tearstained eyes and her words were almost always slurred. When “mommy didn’t feel good”, I knew that meant stay away. I didn’t know that meant she was silently losing herself to a bottle of cheap wine in the privacy of her bedroom. Next, my parent’s relationship was over after 12 years. I was the last thing standing in the way of my Mom becoming completely consumed by the disease. As a young girl, I didn’t see the severity of my Mother’s problem. I only saw the world with beauty and wonder. As naïve as it may be, I didn’t want to live in a world where my Mother wasn’t the admirable lady I cherished. But the older I grew, the harder it was to ignore. Although it was my Mother who physically picked up the bottle, her disease became mine as well. I learned how to cook, clean and even pay the bills via mail. At 12 years old, I was picking up my Mother’s slack. It was my mom who was supposed to be the one taking care of me but I took care of her. My adoration for my Mother was substituted with bitterness. I wanted to hate her for all the pain she burdened me with but I couldn’t. She was still my Mother.
As an outsider mental illness is a hard concept to grasp and understand. With so many stigmas surrounding mental health, people are quick to assume and judge the “crazies.” This social rejection, and the discrimination that goes along with it, make life all the more difficult for people with serious psychological conditions. To some, the stigma is so unbearable that they avoid seeking help for their illness.