Archives for posts with tag: children




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For about a year and a half I worked at a group home. A group home is a place where people go if they are unwanted and/or have different disabilities. I worked with children who were taken away from their homes because they had crappy ass parents or juvenile criminal issues. Some of them were mentally ill children; most were just children that were physically and/or sexually abused by their parents.

 For any normal person working at a place like that is extremely stressful. As someone who is the closest (physically) to the kids or clients, you get the teenage attitude and then some. For me it was no different. On a daily basis I would be called a bitch or I would have to remedy a situation where a co-worker had been verbally and sometimes physically disrespected.

With them showing a lack of respect, we as staff had to keep their pasts in mind. That is a very hard task to do. At some point you do want to tell them off or as some of my co-workers would state “jack them up”. When I worked at that group home statements like that became understandable.  

On top of that, not all of the staff are people of high respect for themselves or others.  Some would talk too openly about their personal lives as if it were open season in their lives. Others were bold enough to speak on their co-workers’ personal lives as if they lived them their selves. And of course you had those employees who would stumble down and act like teenage children in front the children they were working with. All of this irked me.

The children plus the staff was to much for me to handle! I hated it! I hated when they would touch me. I hated when they would call me out of my name. I hated when they would disrespect my co-workers and me. I hated when co-workers would disrespect me! Oh and last but hardly least I hated the hours!!

So one day while working I told myself that I would never come back to that place. Unfortunately I did not inform my supervisors or anyone of my decision not to return. From that day in February it has been 5 months since I have clocked in.  They never called me and I never called them!  I am not proud of the way I left but, I had to do it.  I do not miss the clients, I do not miss the disrespect, and I definitely do not miss some of those messy ass co-workers.

If I could do it all over again, I would just tell one of my supervisors that I wanted to quit. Sign the papers and leave. But, I’m gone now.


I am about 22 years,a  graduate from college, and like many other recent college graduates, I am living at home with my parents. At this point, I really do not mind sleeping in the same room that I once used as a after-prom sleep over. I do have a problem with my parents weekly, knocking on my door every Sunday to ensure that I am up to go to church. The feeling that I get every Sunday is not one of spiritual enlightenment or learning but, it is one of force and contention. It feels as if I am being forced to do something whole-heatedly that i want to explore.

Religion is not the same as spirituality. I know this already. That is why going to church is so hard and taxing for me. I don’t get it. Why do i have to go around others just to prove how saintly I am? My religion is not wrapped in the attitudes of others. My spirituality is something I desperately need to explore to its fullest. If I don’t it could kill my growth as a productive human being. I really don’t want that. I want to be able to explore different religions which through education I have gained immense respect for. It is through education that I have come the conclusion that, personally I could take from each of those beliefs and invest into the person I see myself as being.

Of course, I cannot do any of that with my parents force-ably spoon feeding me one kind of religion with no understanding of others. Going to church now is like doing the dishes, washing the windows, sweeping the porch, it is just another weekly chore I have to do with no thought or reason. I do it just to satisfy those who are asking.

its quite sad and unfulfilling to do so. Maybe one day, one sooner than later, I will have the freedom of my own beliefs. Then, church will not be a chore.