Novels by Olga Sandoval

Troubled in the 80’sWhat can I say about the 80’s. Many remember this time as the decade of hair scrunchies, neon colors, and Aqua Net hair spray. I have different memories of this time. While many of the girls in my elementary school had their hair crimped and walked around with Lisa Frank accessories, I had crooked uncombed hair and a pencil. Now I’m not saying that I was the only poor kid in my schools, at most of them there were plenty of us. In total, I went to six different elementary schools. Most of them I entered in the middle of the year. Meaning I was always the “new student” and had to find friends when everybody already had their friend groups. I did manage to find a neighborhood group of friends when I was eight, but they only lasted for a year before I wasn’t allowed to play with them anymore.Like many kids at the time, my siblings and I spent a lot of time alone without supervision. I

Leaving Erica's office, I felt agitated and on edge. I was used to controlling my emotions and my actions but at this moment I felt like I would explode. I had begun to pry open the safe that I kept locked in my mind and feelings were beginning to seep out while I desperately tried to push them back in. On my way home, I called my husband and told him that I needed a break, and asked if he could watch the children so that I could spend the night at the casino alone. Usually, you would have a good time staying at a casino, but I was more interested in the free room that they give you for gambling there in the past. I needed that free room right now. I do not want to put this burden on my family I need to be alone to process all of the emotions that were attacking me causing random pains all over my body.Entering my house, I head straight to my bedroom and pack an overnight bag. I then go down the stairs to the living room where my husband and five-year-old son S

My Parents I was the second youngest girl in a family of 6 girls and two boys. I have two brothers. One biological and one stepbrother. They are both younger than me. My three oldest sisters are half-sisters. They are my mother’s children from her first marriage. My mother who is fifty percent Indigenous American and fifty percent European grew up in a Southern Baptist family. She was the second oldest girl with one older brother and sister and 3 younger sisters. Her father died when she was a child. The story that we heard was that he died throwing up in a bucket the cause of his death was contributed to alcoholism. Her mother died when I was a baby. Again, the cause was from complications of lifelong alcohol use. My mother did not graduate high school instead she was home helping to raise her younger siblings. Her older brother was a piece of shit that took it upon himself to rape each of his sisters and beat his own mother. Needless to say, h

Sitting in a counselor’s office feels wrong to me. Afterall, for the last eighteen years I have built a life that I am proud of. I have a stable home and my children have grown up healthy and happy. In fact, my oldest Daughter Casey is a semester away from finishing her bachelor’s degree and has already been accepted into a graduate program. I am so proud of her, who could have imagined that this would be our life? Not me. I should not be here. My anxiety rises into my throat, and I feel the urge to get up and walk out of this office and just continue doing what I’ve been doing to control my many issues. Afterall, I have a degree in psychology, I already know what’s wrong with me. Why can’t I fix it myself? Why do I have to go to another person in order to talk things out when I am qualified to take care of my issues myself. I’ve tried, it’s just that I can’t convince myself to heal. I just end up falling back into the same unhealthy patterns that I have grown

Present Day It’s Friday and the last bell of the day has just rung dismissing all the students for the weekend. I hear a knock on my classroom door, and I invite whoever is there in without even looking up. “Hey ??? have I told you lately that you are my favorite coworker?” I let a slight grin form on my face “What do you want Mr. Roberts?” “Well now that you mention it, could you take my spot in the meeting that is getting ready to start? I really have to get home and pack for my weekend trip” “Roberts, if it was any other day, you know I would cover for you, but I have an important meeting in an hour and I have to be there. Sorry” “Is everything okay?” “Yea, just some stuff I have to take care of.” Roberts is my buddy. He is the first person that I really connected with when I started working at this school and I was grateful that we had each other’s support on hard days. But today I could not help him.

“Mommy! wake up I want to play!” “Casey be quit let mommy sleep come downstairs” “But Daddy, I want mommy to play with me” “Not today, moms not feeling good today let her sleep” I can hear the door close slowly as I start to open my eyes. The room is dark. The blackout curtains keep the sunlight out and today I’m so glad that they do. My body feels like it has been run over by a train. I try to turn over in bed and it hurts so bad that a moan escapes my mouth. I don’t know how long I laid there. I didn’t care, I wished that I would die right there and never have to live another day in this place. I feel horrible and could not see anyway out of this situation but death. I finally force my body out of bed and into the master bathroom. Looking in the mirror, I examine the extent of the visible injuries. I notice the swelling on the left side of my face immediately. My eye has turned black, and my lip is busted open. Well, I’ll be in the ho