"Do not refuse growth. Do not give up." This was what Teacher Alan told me.
My social worker Alan didn't know me too well. All because I wrapped myself too tightly. I might look all the same as others on the outside, but I knew there was a deep pain in my heart, my mother's death.
I have to say I haven't been recovered, but I still want to take up my courage and share my story with you because I know I'm not alone in love.
I was a a sixth grader that Christmas. Our church usually had gatherings for Christmas, but it was moved earlier before Christmas Day. Mom, wearing a green coat, was sitting off-stage watching my rehearsal. I could feel her love for me.
From then on, she began to grow weaker and weaker. I didn't pay much attention until one day, the Christmas Day, she fell sick, and God took her away.
After this, the massive desperation and suicide idea kept torturing me. Everything was falling apart, but I kept telling myself, as the older sister, I had to take care of my brother and sister. Getting into junior high school, I made some bad friends and sometimes would go away from home for a few days.
My dad was a drunkard. I would keep arguing with him when he was drunk. This got even worse after mom's death. After every fight, I'd either leave the house or closed the door and cried in my room. I couldn't show my weakness to my family, but only a disguise. Only when I left our house, I'd be able to forget the pain for a while.
This challenge is still here, and I'm still learning to let go. Even though this tragedy came early in my life, but God doesn't give up on me, and I wouldn't also. Running away doesn't help. The pain is still there. All of these are just the taste of life. Never stop growing and learning, and never give up.