My parents made their best attempt to raise my brother and me as traditionally as possible, and despite that it did not work out as well. My brother is aware of that as well. My brother strided away from what my parents were like, going to college in Wisconsin and traveling for a year in Europe.

Can see in him that he has lost somewhat of that touch of being a Hispanic male in the world itself now. Yes, he understands and speaks Spanish just as well as I do, but he has distanced himself and created a life that would have never worked for my parents if they were in his situation.

As for myself, my mother's expectations of me were higher. im her only daughter, and she was convinced she needed to create the perfect model for me to follow, which never happened. I didn't turn out like my mother had intended, and she reminds me of that every day with the way she looks, talks, and treats me Herr interpation of what having a daughter would be like was flipped on her head. she wanted a daughter that wanted to be like a barbie doll just like her because she didnt get to experince that growing up she never had the money to do that she was more focused on trying to get out of her house as fast as she could and she decided to live through me.

She's never exactly been as open or giving in the support range with the things I was a part of, friendship-wise, relanship-wise, and as a person or personality-wise. She couldn't accept having a child who never conformed themselves into gender or sexuality roles that she approved of. That my father approved of and that my father as come around and is accepting that I won't be like my brother, and he doesn't want me to be. My mother hasn't, and she has dragged my brother and aunt down that path with her. Relentlessly reminding them of how I wasn't how she wanted things to be.

and unfortenly I've been on the end of that stick for years. and the fact that it has become more apparent in middle school and now in my personality as a person. She is still very clearly uncomfortable in my presence, as much as I've tried to make her understand that I'm not changing anything that took me years to realize about myself to make her approve of me. It has only pushed her away further, to the point of mutual agreement that there won't be any communication after I turn 18 because she would no longer like to be a part of my life, and I was forced to accept that and grow around that fact.

I believe that losing my grandma in third grade was likely one of the worst things to happen to me. It wasn't how or why she passed; it was the events leading up to her passing away. No one helped her, they had refused to help her when she was hospitalized. They refused to allow her to drink any sort of water, etc. they refused to any of the kids including me see her until she was nearly gone. It had begun so randomly, and she was gone so quickly that I hadn't been allowed to see her until I had to say goodbye. A lot of us weren't even given that grace. It was an uncomfortable situation. I had to say bye in a room full of people.

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Middle school was an awful one because of the virus and two people; everyone was just awkward. There was too much drama, and I dealt with a lot during that time that I would rather forget about. But that was also the first time I had had a chance to be with someone. Those seven months with that person had to be the best seven months of my life. If it hadn't ended the way it had, I'd likely be a different person. It was the worst time when it had ended it was around Christmas and it had destroyed any joy I had for the holiday. Till today, I still fall back into the slump I was in during Chrismas in 7th grade. It was probably the worst December of my life. I had never actually felt so lost and confused about myself. No one told me how devastating it would be being broken up with, especially from your first girlfriend. And there are so many things I probably would've changed. Iff I could. Because it haunts me still. If she was a terrible person, I was way worse than her, And I genuinely do not blame her for how much she hates me now. But that never got me to not think about all the horrible crap I did.

I've gained and lost friends since that but it never really changed my feelings about it. And it genuinely never will change the way I feel. It still upsets me when I think about it. I can't go through winter break without thinking about it. Or getting in on myself about it because it was so unreasonably bad. For the longest time, I thought it was God's way of punishing me for going against everything my mom had told me not to do, and I did anyway because I was happy, and now I have to be forced to watch everyone else be happy during the holiday while I sit with the regret and guilt of one persons memory.

its been off and on I don't think I've been affected too bad but I know that it has had its effects