Sorry

June 17, 2011, is when my story beggings when I was eight years old. For as long as I can remember, people have always told me that I would be living in the United States with my father. I used to get upset when people said I would be leaving because they would always tell me that I would have to leave my mother and brother behind, which they were the only ones that I consider family. I knew that I had a father, but I didn’t spend much quality time with my father, and all I knew about him was what people told me about him. He was my dad, and he lived in the United States. I had to move was for a better future for myself and my family on my mom’s side of the family. Although these are critical factors, as in how my story began, they aren’t the significant events that had set off the binging of my life. It was the first day I arrived in the United States; It was one of the most painful days because I lost my best friend. The day after leaving my motherland, I received the news that my grandmother’s passed away.

My grandmother was my best friend. I loved her to the moon and back, so obtaining the information that I wouldn’t be able to see her again was heartbreaking, and what made it even was the fact that I wasn’t able to go back home to say my final goodbyes because I had just come the day before. I hated leaving because I felt that my grandmother passed because of me. After all, my leaving was harder on her than anyone else. She had been taking care of me since I was born. After a while, although I was still hurting from my grandmother’s death, I was in a place in life where I wasn’t miserable, but I wasn’t happy. As time passed by, I started to be in a better place. I wouldn’t say I was delighted, but I was ok. I had made friends and learned English very fast; within five months of being in the United States, I had learned some English. For about four years after my arrival, my life was this way; it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, well, what I considered common until I started to fall into depression due to things out of my control and something that a 12-year-old had no understanding of it. I was at a point in life where I didn’t feel like I had a purpose. Life was like this until I was 12, about to turn 13, my sister decided she wanted me to move in with her and her husband. For me, it was the best thing to move in with my big sister because she was a person that I could count on with anything. 

A year after I moved in with my sister, she divorced her husband due to personal issues, and my sister and I thought we should move out of Boston and move in with my dad’s sister. My sister and I moved to Georgia with my auntie Wendy; we both started going to school, and things were beginning to be good. In Georgia, I made many friends, I was doing very well in school, and I loved the new life we had built here. Although I had things going on in my life, I still was happy, and I tried to let things out of my hands. Items out of my hands used to stress me out, like my parent’s relationship. my parents had split up when I was five years old and still lived in the Dominican Republic. Still, somehow, they never managed to find a way to get along and parents, so I was stuck between both of them arguing. Ather spending three years in Georgia, my auntie was stationed here due to her job. We moved here from Georgia during Covid-19, making it hard to adjust because I couldn’t attend face-to-face classes and get to know people. Due to this, I was very depressed. I wanted to go back to Georgia because I didn’t know anybody and was only, but I continued to go to school and try my best regardless of what was going on in the world. My life today is ok. I will honestly say I am not where I want to be because I feel like I could be in a better place when it comes to my goal and my education progress. However, I still live by the saying one day at a time. In the future, I would like to continue and stay firm no matter how bad a situation is, and I would like to continue to be ok with adaptation.