My dream.
My dream is to be a professional wrestler for the WWE.
My dream is to go into that ring week after week and show the WWE Universe what I'm made of.
My dream is to stand on that stage and talk into the mic and show the fans what they've been missing.
I've had this dream ever since I was 6 years old.
The first time I watched WWE was a match involving Rey Mysterio.
I saw the way Rey moved in the ring and the way he made it look so damn easy.
I saw how the fans cheered and how the fans were on there feet screaming.
I loved it.
I wanted to do that.
I want to be like Rey Mysterio.
I want to do crazy insane high flying moves that could end my career.
I want to make the fans cheer and make the fans wonder what I'm going to do next.
Whenever I tell someone that I want to be a wrestler, I always get doubted because of my weight.
Yes, I'm 85 pounds.
Yes, I'm skinny as hell.
But this is something that I've loved my whole life and something that I will do whatever I can to get there.
I will work out every day, I will eat healthy, I will train. I will do whatever the hell it takes to live out my dream.
You can doubt me all you want. But I'll be the one in that ring, proving every single one of you wrong.
If you think that I won't make it into wrestling. Believe what you want to believe.
But I'm going to do whatever it takes to make sure I end up doing what I love.
My goal in life is to be happy and to make my mother and my family proud.
And for me the only way I'll ever truly be happy is with wrestling.
That's the only way I'll ever be truly happy.
I want to be in that ring and face people like Paige, The Bellas, Natalya, Naomi, etc.
I want to travel the world and just make the most of my life instead of sitting at home being bored out of my mind.
I will go into WWE, I will be a professional wrestler, I will prove all the doubters wrong.
I will live out my dream.
Yours truly,
Nicole.
Hi everyone. I'm Nicole Spiker. A 17 year old from Elkton, Maryland. And this is my story.
I was born on November 19th, 1997 in Christiana Hospital in Delaware to my mother Marcella and my father James. I was born 2 months early due to my mother having high blood pressure.
I'm the youngest of 5 kids. I'm the only child of my mother and father. The rest are my half siblings.
Growing up, my mother was a nurse in Pennsylvania and my dad worked at a printing shop in Philadelphia. My father worked during the day while my mother worked during the night.
I was 7 years old when the first real disaster hit my family and I. I was in elementary school at the time and my dad had just brought me home from school.
My mom and my half-sister Tracy were at the local high school EHS working at the concession stand.
Tracy called my dad as soon as we got home. I didn't hear what they were talking about but I knew something was up. My dad hung up the phone and he told me that we had to go to the school. Apparently something was going on with my mom and she felt dizzy and light headed.
We got to the school and my dad immediately passed me off to my half-brother Danny. The only thing I remember was my mom sitting in one of the chairs in the concession stand and looking over at me and freaking out.
I knew something was going on, but I just ignored it. I was only 7 years old so it was easy for me to get distracted.
I spent the night watching a soccer game with Danny while my mom was being taken to the hospital with my dad and Tracy. At the end of the night, my Aunt Linda came and picked us up and took us right to our house.
I didn't hear any news the rest of the night about my mom.
Turns out, my mother had a stroke and later on that night had a heart attack. She didn't take her blood pressure medication like she was supposed to. She ended up being paralyzed on her whole right side. She couldn't walk, talk, anything like that ever again.
The doctors didn't believe that she was going to make it through the night, but she did. The doctors made a bet that she wouldn't make it that whole week, and she did. My mother was a fighter. My mother was a warrior.
They ended up putting my mother into a nursing home.
I was scared to even go into her room because I knew she was going to look different. So for a month, I stayed outside of my mom's room and played with my doll that my mother got me for Christmas one year.
Tracy would come out and try and talk me into coming in and seeing my mom but I just couldn't. I couldn't bare the thought of how my mother looked and the pain she was in.
Tracy took my doll into the room and as soon as my mother saw my doll, she knew I was there. And she started freaking out because she wanted to see me.
Tracy made my mom promise that she wouldn't freak out and that she would go and get me.
She came out the room, picked me up, and dragged me into my mother's room. As soon as she picked me up, I started screaming because I knew what she was doing.
Tracy put me down on my mom's bed and as soon as I looked up at my mother, I started crying. She looked so different. She gained a lot of weight. Her face was pale. The only thing that was the same was her big hazel eyes that I thankfully have. My mother started crying along with me.
An hour later, my dad drove to the nursing home to pick me up and take me home. As soon as he walked into my mom's room, the first thing he saw was me still laying in bed with my mother watching I Love Lucy on TV Land. (which was my mother's all-time favorite show)
The bond between a mother and a daughter is never forgotten.
3 years later, in 2007. I was 10 years old. In 4th grade (I believe), and we went out to recess. My class was always the first ones outside so of course we were the only ones outside at the time.
We were about to go to the playground when all of a sudden one of the boys pointed to the sky and was telling everyone "look! look!"
There was black smoke in the clouds. All of us started wondering what was going on and where this was happening at. Then we had to go back inside due to the school calling a code yellow (meaning we had to stay inside and in our classrooms).
At the time, I was in band. I played the trumpet and I had to leave the classroom to go to band practice.
So me and a couple other students in my class went to the music room. We were about to start practice when one of the teachers came in.
The teacher handed my band teacher a note. Then she looked over at me and said that I was going home early. Now of course, everyone loves going home early so I was happy! I didn't think anything was wrong!...boy was I wrong.
The teacher took me to the office and I walked in thinking I would be seeing my father. Nope. She took me into the principals office and in there was the principal, assistant principal and again my Aunt Linda.
I was confused. Very confused.
It was quiet until the principal finally spoke up and said that my house caught on fire.
Did I hear him right? Did he say that my house caught on fire? My house? Fire? No way.
My house caught on fire on April 3rd, 2007 due to an electrical problem.
My Aunt Linda then told me that my father was in the house at the time of the fire.
Now I was really freaking out. My father, the man who raises me, was in the house when the fire happened.
The thoughts going through my mind were non stop. Is my dad dead? Is he okay?
First I basically lose my mom and now I don't even know if my dad's alive.
My Aunt Linda signed me out of school and then took me out to her car. As soon as I got into her car, I looked up at the sky and all I kept on seeing was dark black clouds full of smoke. And I knew, I now knew that THAT was my house. My house was burning down at that very minute. And I couldn't do anything.
I couldn't do anything.
I ended up living with my grandparents and Tracy for 3 weeks. My dad was okay, thank God. He passed out due to smoke inhalation and had 1st degree burn but he was okay.
My dad, my brother Jimmy and I ended up moving into an apartment together while our house was getting completely rebuilt.
Thankfully in October, we moved back in and I'm so happy to say that we still live in the same house to this day.
After the fire, everything started getting better. My dad and I, still went to the nursing home every day to visit my mom. We didn't tell my mom about the house fire because she had no sense of the time or the days, so if we told her about the house fire she would think that it happened the day before.
Everything was going great! Nothing was going wrong, our lives were going smoothly.
Until October 15th, 2008. This day will forever break my heart. My mother ended up passing away while I was at school.
A month before that, my mother had another mini stroke. The mini stroke ended up having her develop seizures. Which scared the crap out of me.
So I stopped going to the nursing home because I was scared. I hated seeing my mother have seizures. I didn't know what was going on but I knew I didn't want any part of it.
That was the last time I saw my mother alive. I didn't get to say goodbye. I didn't get to tell her I love her. I didn't get to hug her or kiss her. And that breaks my heart and haunts me everyday more than anything.
My mother died when she was only 50 years old. I was only 11 years old. It took me a long time to comprehend what was going on.
My dad tells me this story all the time. A couple minutes before my mother died, my dad was visiting my mom at the nursing home. My dad had to leave because he had to pick me up from school. My dad told me that he knew that my mom's time was almost up. He told me that he kissed my mother 3 times on her forehead, told her he loved her and left. As soon as he left, she died. She was waiting for him to leave.
The day of my mother's viewing, I was scared. I was scared because I knew a whole lot of people were coming. I was also scared because my mother's casket was open and every time I walked past the room, I saw her.
The viewing went by quickly and it got to the end where they only allow family in the room to say there goodbyes.
I decided that I didn't want to go up to the casket because I didn't want to see her like that. I couldn't handle it. So I stood in the back with my great aunt Cathy.
But then, I decided to go up to the casket with Danny and my sister Jennifer. As soon as we got up to the casket, I saw her. I saw her face. She had makeup on (which she hated), red lipstick, blue eyeshadow to match the dress she had on. Her hair all curled. Her face and body all pale. As soon as I saw her in that casket, I had a complete break down.
I started screaming and crying. My mother was right there in front of me, dead. I was just standing there crying and just wishing that she would open her eyes and hug me. But that didn't happen.
That night will forever last in my brain.
The next morning was my mother's funeral. Now at funerals, they usually have the family sit in the front. But that morning, my dad was the only one sitting in the front. My dad wanted me to sit in the front with him but after the viewing, I just couldn't.
They played my mom and dad's song. I don't quite remember the song but it was beautiful. My dad was crying. Eventually I started crying. The preacher started talking about my mom and my family. The more he would talk about her the more pain I would feel in my heart.
After this, I was never the same.
Here I am now, it's 2015. I am 17 years old. I recently have been diagnosed with Grief Depression, Separation Anxiety and Social Anxiety. I am a high school dropout. I go to therapy every Wednesday.
Every day I miss my mom more and more. I always think of how disappointed she must be in me. I already know that I'm a disappointment to my father. It pains me just to think how much of a disappointment I am to my mother.
My one goal in my life is to make my mother proud. How is a high school dropout ever going to make her mother proud?
To me, it just doesn't seem worth it.
