By Lyndsey Newport
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I
am from my father's familiar home, which possessed the ambience of hard work
and dedication. He spent his days painting industrial buildings and spent his
nights and weekends doing side work on various residential homes. He was
married to my stepmother, and together they live in a small, rural, farming
town in Washburn, IL. I spent every other weekend of my childhood here, as I
lived with my mother full-time. With it being mainly farmland and little
opportunity available to make friends, I would often explore the outdoors,
walking along the creek beds that flowed through our backyard gully. I would
sit on the side of the grassy, muddy creek, listening to the babbling of the
cool water as it flowed through the slippery, wet rocks. I've typically
gravitated towards nature as a place of calm and comfort.
On
the rare occasion my father wasn't working on the weekends, he spent what
little bit of free time he had surrounded by fishing or hunting, especially if
it was the fall season. On early Saturday mornings, I would shuffle out of my
room, groggy and rubbing my eyes after being woken up from my dad's stumbling
around. I would listen to him grunting and groaning as he laced up his heavy
hunting boots, keys jingling in his pocket with every heavy step he took as he
made his way through the dewy grass and the shuffling noise of him loading all
his supplies and guns into the truck bed. On his way out, he was always saying, "I'm
gonna tag the big one today! Just wait and see!"
There
wasn’t much time spent with my dad between working and hunting season. Later on,
throughout childhood, this lack of a relationship and bonding would often come
up in other aspects that would affect important aspects of my life, such as
forming and building meaningful relationships with others.
I am from my mother, a spirit
and home life that was one of chaos. She was a previously divorced woman and came
from a family of seven. She was married to my stepfather, and together
they lived in East Peoria, Illinois. My home life with my mother wasn't easy,
as there were drug and alcohol addictions rampant in the household. Long
nights, slammed doors, the yelling—god, the yelling and screaming. It rang so
loudly in my ears, but it was always better than the quiet. The quiet leads to
quietly tiptoeing outside my mother’s bedroom, pressing my ear to the door
gently to listen and make sure she’s making some kind of sound because at least
then I knew she was alive. The quiet meant to make sure she hadn't passed out
and hurt herself again. I was my mother’s keeper when everyone else in her life
abandoned her.
To
escape my home life, I spent as much time as possible exploring the woods in my
backyard with the rambunctious neighborhood boys. Anytime weather would allow,
from the instant my eyes cracked open with the dawn, I'd instantly jump up to
get ready to go out and explore. My mom used to say, "Come home when
the streetlights come on!" as I struggled to throw my shoes and coat on
and fumbled out the door. The summers were no different as I often spent the
majority of my available time outside at my grandparents’ house. My grandmother
was the one person I knew I could always confide in and turn to for support,
given that I didn't have that strong relationship bond with either of my
parents. From the moment my grandmother picked me up and we pulled into her
driveway, it instantly felt like home to me. The chlorine smell in the air from
the 15 ft pool that was just beyond the white picket privacy fence, the
surround sound Bose stereo blasting Shania Twain as loudly as possible, the
charcoal smell and the sizzle from hamburgers on the hot grill, my cousins
laughing and taking turns pushing each other in the pool, and the crack of
someone hitting the water as they jumped off the diving board doing a belly
flop. This welcoming, comforting feeling was always the unofficial start of my
summer.
I am from the profile of being a
reliable, secure mother. My daughter, Willow, is four years old. The night she
was born, after the craziness of having her simmer down and we were in our
recovery room, it was finally just me and her. The night grew still and calm,
peaceful even. I finally got to take a first good look at her and meet my
daughter. As I stared down into her sparkly, big blue eyes, her little squishy
nose, rosy cheeks, soft fuzzy blonde hair, she wrapped her tiny pruned hand
around my finger and I knew from that moment on that I would be dedicated to
giving her the best life possible. When it comes to being a parent, it takes a
great deal of self-work and reflection in order to unlearn old habits and learn
to do and be better so that your child has a chance to have a childhood they
don't have to recover from. It's unlearning generational trauma and healing
from your own traumas, so you can learn better coping mechanisms to teach your
child. It's learning to become self-aware so your child has confidence and
stands up for themselves. It's allowing your own self to be vulnerable so you
can grow and learn together. She teaches me more about my own self every single
day. My parents used to constantly yell, "You're being so emotional!
Calm down, you're always so moody!" Never will my daughter have to learn
how to regulate and rationalize her emotions, or have to try and navigate life
in general, without me by her side to help guide her or feel like she has to go
through it alone.
I am from the role of a
committed student. I am studying psychology with a minor in criminal justice
with hopeful plans of transferring to Eureka College. My dedication as a
student has led me to recently be accepted into the Phi Theta Kappa Honors Society
due to my maintained GPA of a 3.0 or above, as well as a list of
accomplishments and titles that I never would have imagined for myself. My long-term
career goal is to help represent and counsel human trafficking victims. I chose
this field because I have always had a passion for psychology, as well as
helping the under-represented and misunderstood. I feel that the majority of my
life experiences have helped lead me to this point in the way that it has
helped me realize that in a situation, things aren't always as they seem. My
upbringing has given me a broader, liberal viewpoint, as well as helping make
me hypervigilant to warning signs and red flags. I personally would find it
fulfilling as a career to help others, especially a victim of a crime, process
their experiences in a healthy way to live functioning lives post trauma.
I am from a collection of
experiences and relationships that have helped shape who I am and where I am
today. While not all of them good, they all proved themselves to be a learning
experience in one way or another. Without them, I never would have learned how
important a healthy relationship with my child would be and feel like. I never
would have gotten to explore nature that's helped shape a constant sense of
calm in a world of infinite chaos. This life hasn't been an easy one, but it's
been a fulfilling one that's filled with love from my daughter, my motivation
and drive to help others, and has taught me to step out of comfort zones and go
explore.
About the Author
Lyndsey Newport enjoys writing short poetry as well as personal essays, about her life experiences in helping motivate others to aspire for success. She was a Public Relations intern for ICC teacher/book author Joe Chianakas for his latest book, "Singlets and Secrets," and a recent member of the Phi Theta Kappa Honors Society. She is in her second year attending ICC as a psych major as well as a full-time mother and wife.