At the early age of four, I stood behind a closed bathroom door, yelling, “Mom, please let me in. I have to go to the bathroom so bad!” “Just stay out there for a second.” I was told, as my bladder grew heavier. I couldn’t hold it anymore, so I finally burst into the bathroom, even though my mother had told me to wait. I looked at her and saw a bra strap squeezing her bicep and a needle in her vein. Immediately I knew what she was doing; unfortunately, it wasn’t the only time I had seen something like that. On multiple occasions, I walked into the living room to see my mother passed out on the couch, barely responsive because she had taken too many pills. Or I would walk into the bathroom and see her passed out on the toilet. I look back now and feel bad for my mom. She probably turned to drugs because she raised two kids alone while making less than minimum wage. My dad wasn’t able to help out much because he was in prison just about every year of my childhood. He would get out for a few months, steal something or get caught with drugs, and end up back in prison for a couple of years. When I was about six years old, I had to live with my gram because my mom and dad both ended up in prison. My gram is my savior and the most selfless person I’ve ever met. She took in my brother and me while working the night shift at a cabinet factory. She didn’t make a lot of money, and a lot of the time, we barely had groceries. If there wasn’t enough of something we had, and she couldn’t afford more, she always ensured that my brother and I had what we needed before she considered herself. I always did good in grade school but hit a rough patch in middle school. I started hanging with the wrong people and making bad choices. I was out one night with friends way past curfew, and the cops stopped us. I got a fine for being out past curfew and was taken back to my gram’s house. Of course, when I got home, I was getting yelled at, so I started acting like I didn’t care about my future and that I would be just fine. However, in the back of my mind, I felt ashamed for disappointing my gram. This woman raised me to be the opposite of my parents. She wanted me to have a bright future with a good education. She didn’t want me to end up doing drugs and going to prison like my parents. That is when I realized that I needed to do something great in my life. I didn’t want to end up like my parents. I stopped talking to the people I was getting in trouble with and got a better group of friends. I started to do better in school. I went from getting C’s and D’s to straight A’s. There is no better feeling than bringing my report cards home and seeing my gram teary-eyed, telling me how proud she is. My next step to better my future would be becoming one of the first people in my family to get a college degree. I want to prove to everyone, especially my gram, that I will end up nothing like my parents and do something great with my future.

The one thing that makes me happy is seeing others happy. This past Christmas, I was scrolling through Facebook when I stumbled upon a post asking for people to be donors to buy presents for children in foster care. I immediately called the phone number listed on the post and got signed up to buy two kids' Christmas presents. I went to get my list which had the kids' ages and what they wanted/needed. Instead of the lists being filled with different toys and treats that I imagined a kid's Christmas list to have, their lists included winter clothes, coats, and snow boots. It saddened me to know that these children had to think about their basic necessities and not all of the fun toys and games that most children have. When I went shopping for their presents, I made sure to not only get them their necessities but to also get them fun toys and books. By buying gifts for those children I not only gave them a great Christmas but I gave back to the program that once supplied me with Christmas gifts. I always loved the joy of Christmas but I knew I wasn’t going to have much under the tree. Children and Youth knew about my family's circumstances so they put me down to receive Christmas presents from donors. Many years I wouldn’t have gotten anything if it wasn’t for donors generously buying me Christmas gifts. That is why when I got a job, I chose to use my money to give kids a good Christmas. I plan to continue to be a Christmas donor for children and bring joy to them on Christmas. I want to also get involved with other programs that help children in foster care or low-income families.

The one thing that makes me happy is seeing others happy. This past Christmas, I was scrolling through Facebook when I stumbled upon a post asking for people to be donors to buy presents for children in foster care. I immediately called the phone number listed on the post and got signed up to buy two kids' Christmas presents. I went to get my list which had the kids' ages and what they wanted/needed. Instead of the lists being filled with different toys and treats that I imagined a kid's Christmas list to have, their lists included winter clothes, coats, and snow boots. It saddened me to know that these children had to think about their basic necessities and not all of the fun toys and games that most children have. When I went shopping for their presents, I made sure to not only get them their necessities but to also get them fun toys and books. By buying gifts for those children I not only gave them a great Christmas but I gave back to the program that once supplied me with Christmas gifts. I always loved the joy of Christmas but I knew I wasn’t going to have much under the tree. Children and Youth knew about my family's circumstances so they put me down to receive Christmas presents from donors. Many years I wouldn’t have gotten anything if it wasn’t for donors generously buying me Christmas gifts. That is why when I got a job, I chose to use my money to give kids a good Christmas. I plan to continue to be a Christmas donor for children and bring joy to them on Christmas. I want to also get involved with other programs that help children in foster care or low-income families.

At the early age of four, I stood behind a closed bathroom door yelling, “Mom, please let me in, I have to go to the bathroom so bad!” “Just stay out there for a second.” I was told, as my bladder grew heavier. I couldn’t hold it anymore, so I finally burst into the bathroom, even though my mother had told me to wait. I looked up at her and saw a bra strap squeezing her bicep and a needle in her vein. Immediately I knew what she was doing and unfortunately it wasn’t the only time I had seen something like that. On multiple occasions, I walked into the living room to see my mother passed out on the couch, barely responsive because she took too many pills. Or I would walk into the bathroom and see her passed out on the toilet. I look back now and feel bad for my mom. She probably turned to drugs because she was raising two kids by herself while making less than minimum wage. My dad wasn’t able to help out much because he was in prison just about every year of my childhood. He would get out for a few months, steal something or get caught with drugs, and end up back in prison for a couple of years. When I was about six years old I had to live with my gram because my mom and dad both ended up in prison. My gram is my savior and the most selfless person I’ve ever met. She took in my brother and me while working the night shift at a cabinet factory. She didn’t make a lot of money and a lot of the time we barely had groceries. If there wasn’t enough of something we had, and she couldn’t afford more, she always ensured that my brother and I had what we needed before she considered herself. I always did good in grade school but in middle school, I hit a rough patch. I started hanging with the wrong people and making wrong choices. I was out one night with friends way past curfew, and the cops stopped us. I got a fine for being out past curfew and I was taken back to my gram’s house. Of course, when I got home I was getting yelled at, so I started acting like I didn’t care about my future and that I would be just fine. However, in the back of my mind, I felt so ashamed for disappointing my gram. This woman raised me to be the opposite of my parents. She wanted me to have a bright future with a good education, she didn’t want me to end up doing drugs and going to prison, like my parents. That is when I realized that I needed to do something great in my life, I didn’t want to end up like my parents. I stopped talking to the people I was getting in trouble with and got a better group of friends. I started to do better in school, I went from getting C’s and D’s to straight A’s. There is no better feeling than bringing my report cards home and seeing my gram teary-eyed, telling me how proud she is. My next step to better my future would be becoming one of the first people in my family to get a college degree. I want to prove to everyone, especially my gram, that I will end up nothing like my parents and I will do something great with my future.

At the early age of four, I stood behind a closed bathroom door yelling, “Mom, please let me in, I have to go to the bathroom so bad!” “Just stay out there for a second.” I was told, as my bladder grew heavier. I couldn’t hold it anymore, so I finally burst into the bathroom, even though my mother had told me to wait. I looked up at her and saw a bra strap squeezing her bicep and a needle in her vein. Immediately I knew what she was doing and unfortunately it wasn’t the only time I had seen something like that. On multiple occasions, I walked into the living room to see my mother passed out on the couch, barely responsive because she took too many pills. Or I would walk into the bathroom and see her passed out on the toilet. I look back now and feel bad for my mom. She probably turned to drugs because she was raising two kids by herself while making less than minimum wage. My dad wasn’t able to help out much because he was in prison just about every year of my childhood. He would get out for a few months, steal something or get caught with drugs, and end up back in prison for a couple of years. When I was about six years old I had to live with my gram because my mom and dad both ended up in prison. My gram is my savior and the most selfless person I’ve ever met. She took in my brother and me while working the night shift at a cabinet factory. She didn’t make a lot of money and a lot of the time we barely had groceries. If there wasn’t enough of something we had, and she couldn’t afford more, she always ensured that my brother and I had what we needed before she considered herself. I always did good in grade school but in middle school, I hit a rough patch. I started hanging with the wrong people and making wrong choices. I was out one night with friends way past curfew, and the cops stopped us. I got a fine for being out past curfew and I was taken back to my gram’s house. Of course, when I got home I was getting yelled at, so I started acting like I didn’t care about my future and that I would be just fine. However, in the back of my mind, I felt so ashamed for disappointing my gram. This woman raised me to be the opposite of my parents. She wanted me to have a bright future with a good education, she didn’t want me to end up doing drugs and going to prison, like my parents. That is when I realized that I needed to do something great in my life, I didn’t want to end up like my parents. I stopped talking to the people I was getting in trouble with and got a better group of friends. I started to do better in school, I went from getting C’s and D’s to straight A’s. There is no better feeling than bringing my report cards home and seeing my gram teary-eyed, telling me how proud she is. My next step to better my future would be becoming one of the first people in my family to get a college degree. I want to prove to everyone, especially my gram, that I will end up nothing like my parents and I will do something great with my future.