Poop and how it's
Made
(Christopher's Story)
What
is poop made of and how does it get there? If you eat all your
food groups then poop is made out of about four or five different
things. When I think of home and the many homes I've had I think
of the excretory system. In most cases you eat food, which is
enjoyable, then your esophagus sends it to your stomach, where
it is broken down by acids. It then proceeds to the large and
small intestine were it is sucked of all nutrients, and you get
the end product of, your feces. The only thing is that when I
think of home I think of the excretory system in reverse. In my
experiences I have received the feces, and then I had to go through
the intestines, stomach, and esophagus.
Poop is made up of four or five different foods,
likewise my poop (home experiences) are made up of four or five
different experiences. As an infant I lived with my mother and
her new husband. Their house was a pig sty, my mother was negligent,
and her new husband was abusive. I was removed from my mother's
when I was two or three, at which time I went into foster care
for a period of time. When I was about five, I went and lived
with my father. My father worked overnights and when he came home
he was usually drunk and would be very violent towards me and
my brother. My father was a heavy alcoholic. When I was six the
state asked my father to relinquish parental custody of me, which
he did, thus the state took over my life again. I then again was
placed in foster care where I went to many unqualified foster
homes. In one experience the foster parents already had two paternal
children, which hated me, therefore they made my life hell.
The purpose of the intestines is to suck all the
nutrients out of your food and to get rid of the liquid. Well
this process in reverse is putting the nutrients back into the
feces. When you are young you are taught many things, about half
the things we know can't be learned through text books, but through
experiences and what I like to refer to as acquired knowledge.
As a infant the nutrition I received was dog food, that those
you should trust most are your enemies, and that nails are toys.
I should explain a little at this time. When I was young I spilt
my food on the floor. So my step-father said if I did it again
I would have to eat dog food out of a dog dish, which I ended
up having to do. His logic was that I couldn't spill out of a
dog dish, or something along those lines. My mother who is suppose
to love me and protect me from all harm was blind to the way her
new husband treated her children. She allowed them to be beat
with a belt, so my trust had been broken before I even knew what
trust was. About the nails, all children have playpens, mine was
a wooden toy box with nails sticking all over on the inside. I
would be placed in here to play and would get scratched and hurt
from the nails. This caused me to think that pain was fun I guess,
because when I was four or five I took a pair of scissors and
sliced my face.
Acid can eat almost anything. In order to get to
the esophagus you must go through the churning of the stomach
and the deadly acid. After I lived with my mother I was sent to
many foster homes, then I went to live with my father for a short
period of time, until he gave me up. To move from town to town
and home to home is hard, especially when you are young. In each
home there is a new set of rules and new authority figures to
listen to. But, to endure police cruelty as a child that is where
you wanna say forget life, and what's the use in living? As I
mentioned earlier I went to one foster home where there were two
paternal children already present. The father of this household
was a police officer. Upon receiving information from his daughter,
who hated me and was a big liar, he would take me downstairs and
question me for hours about what I had said or what I had done.
When in reality I didn't do anything or say anything. The only
problem was that I had to tell him something. I didn't know what
his daughter had said so I just finally said that I did whatever
it might have been that she said I did. But, that wasn't good
enough for him because he wanted me to confess to exactly what
I had done. I couldn't do that because I didn't know.
The esophagus is made up of many muscles that are
all forcing everything downward. In order to climb up the esophagus
you must be strong and it is hard, but you know what is at the
end. When I was eight I went to live with Marcia and Melvin. Here
I had many obstacles to over come. There were bullies in 3rd and
4th grade, then I dealt with depression and anger control management
during middle school. My high school years were the hardest. There
were many times when I was climbing and almost gave up and let
myself fall, but I would always catch myself in time. Except in
January of 2003 I gave up I said forget it, I had a 13 inch dagger
and I wanted to end it, that's when I asked for help. I requested
for M., my guardian mother, to take me to a psychiatric hospital,
where I had been many times before. There they asked me "what
do you want and where do you want to go?" I told them that
I would like to go into an independent living program so that
I could get out on my own. It took a lot of commitment on my part
and I was rewarded when I finally saw the uvula, and I was in
the home stretch.
In my experiences I have received the feces, then
I had to go through the intestines, stomach and esophagus. My
shit is made up of home experiences, not food, but it is the same
concept. In the excretory process you start with something good
and it gets turned into something that most people find repulsive.
In my life I was given shit and I chose to turn it into something
that may benefit me and others. Now I am food, still in the mouth
and not whole, but its better then where I could be.
Christopher,
Written for an English Composition Class, September 8, 2004
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