Personal Narrative

Nope, this isn’t the story with the happy ending but my story is something like the alternate ending you get when you buy a movie on DVD. Three of my four years while enrolled at Kombi I tried out for the team only to be cut each time. Freshman year I came to Kombi from one of four local middle schools where I had played basketball and was deemed the best player at my school (this isn’t much to brag about as my team won once in three years).

So fifteen year old me who had been playing basketball in local leagues and school for about seven years had found something I truly loved and had passion for. This however would turn around to cause the biggest heartbreak in my life. Three days of tryouts as I remember for our freshman team featured all the best players from the four middle schools in Kombi. Some I had been playing with for years and some who now in college are having great freshman seasons at their respective colleges.

Day two of tryouts end and the list of people to stay for day three is posted. I had Just played two straight days of solid basketball but I thought the one thing that pushed me over was the hustle and respect I showed the coaches. I walked o the list with one of my best friends at the time and scanned for our last names only to find myself excluded from the third day of tryouts and so devastated that I began to cry on the spot. The sheer embarrassment forced me to gather my things and quickly exit the gym to my dad waiting outside in his truck.

Dad heard me out and encouraged me to keep working and come back again with a chip on my shoulder. This as I said led to getting cut two more years Minor and senior seasons), but did get me to realize that basketball wasn’t my only love but another court had my heart. Now as much as I wanted my plan a in being a basketball player to work I found that sometimes some things aren’t meant to be. I was a major part of the student section at my high school attending every game because my love for basketball far extended the reaches of the court.

I will admit watching basketball from the sidelines all four years really hurt me on the inside Just wishing I could play every second of every game. It was killing me on the inside but I came to support the people I considered my brothers on the court each and every game. I was glad though in the ND the same people I supported would take the time to come support me on the tennis court. I had played tennis a little bit as a middle school kid but only to keep in shape for basketball, but now with basketball out of the equation my focus in high school shifted to being as good as I could be on the tennis court.

My hard working nature in the world of sports allotted me to harness my potential with a lot of thanks to my coaches and parents who took me to the practices and lessons during the off season. I was the second best on the team by senior season and a fan favorite to watch. It as a wonderful relationship through high school with the tennis court and it was an instant connection. What did I take from this all? Well for starters I learned what doesn’t kill you will make you stronger.

I think as an individual I was overly sensitive about the subject of not making the team in high school. After being teased and harassed over the event made me work harder and taught me to ignore the negative comments and people. This was easily a direct effect from my whole situation. As people always have to find something to say to put a person down to bring them up, but I learned to harness the activity and used it to work harder and harder to get better at my craft.

I really found out that even though I didn’t get to the reward I truly wanted due to the obstacles in my path, that there is a road with a reward Just as sweet. This was also definitely a direct result of me not playing high school basketball because it led me to shift my focus over to tennis which treated me wonderfully in the end and created great memories for my high school tenure. I also made some of the best friends that I still have to this day because of my time spent in the student section with my approachable and loving personality.

Do I wish I had the Michael Jordan-queues backstops? Of course, but I don’t believe even if I was presented with the chance to go back and make it happen that I actually would. I’m honestly thankful for the coaches that rejected me because in the end it turned me into a stronger person. So there’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Not the ending many would expect or want in the story, some would even call it a plot twist that there was a black kid running around playing tennis, but that’s what you get when you pick the alternate ending for the movie with the heartwarming story.

The Victory Shot: A Personal Narrative

The entire season of our hard work and sweat would pay off in this final game. If we won, we got everything from bragging rights to the last spot in the highest part of the league we played in. The other team had scored in the first half, leaving the score 1 to O. We knew if we were going to win we would have to find something to keep us going for that last five minutes. The right forward for our team had a beautiful run to the goal which make the defenders nervous.

They Just kicked the ball out of bounds, giving us the corner kick. The entire team knew that this was our chance to get that goal back. The midfielder took the ball to the corner and told us to get in position for a set piece we had practiced many of times. The midfielder would kick the ball to me, waiting Just outside the goal box, and then I would pass it to the forward, who would kick the ball into the left corner of the net. Everyone got into their positions and the ball was kicked into play. The next thing I knew, I heard the SWOOSH of the ball going into the net.

We all celebrated for a couple of seconds before the referee then blew his whistle, ending of the game. But we all knew it wasn’t over. We had made the goal, but the score was still 1 to 1. Penalty kicks were the only thing left to do. Penalty kicks are a scary part of soccer games. Each team gets 5 shots total, with one player shooting on the goalie of the other team at one time. Four of my team mates and I lined up to shoot. The score went back and forth, until the other team had scored 4, missed one.

We had scored all four of the goals; the last shot I made would decide the game. I walked up to the ball, spun it a few times in my hand, set it down and backed up away from the ball to get ready for the shot. In that moment, wondered if that all of the training after school and all of the work I had put into this sport would shine through. The referee blew the whistle, and I took the shot. It couldn’t have been more perfect. The goalie dived to the left and my ball went into the right corner of the goal.

In a second, I felt the force of all 16 of the girls on my team tackling me and screaming DID IT! ” and “WAHOO! “. After we had left the field to go eat a team ice cream and burger dinner, the coach pulled me aside. “That last shot was really good. I’m so glad that I got to see you improve over this year and help lead our team to victory. Good Job, and thank you,” she said. The thought that if I hadn’t stayed after school for all of those hours, missed parties and leftovers and gone and enjoyed my personal life, I wouldn’t have been able to have made that shot still hasn’t sunk inn.

Ziplining personal narrative

Screams, yells, laughter shouting filled my ears Just making it even more nerve racking. When I was ten years old, I spent a week at Sandy cove Camp for Girls, a sleep away camp in Virginia. From cannoning in the brisk waters of a small river to horseback riding through deep forest trails, there was never a dull day at this place. I was an archer, a cowgirl, a swimmer, and an artist all in a matter of days. Throughout the week, I found satisfaction in thinking that I had attempted and completed numerous activities.

This thought, however, vanished as I stumbled upon a fifty foot tall tower of intimidation: the zip line. Throughout the day, I stared in awe at all of the girls being consumed into the tunnel of leaves that sat under the sky. They climbed a fifty foot tree with the assistance of metal rings protruding from the bark, stood on a wooden plank when they reached the top, and stepped off to glide across the thick wire that stretched almost 150 feet from tree to tree. I Jolted down the rocky trail to reach the Ropes Course shed, a wooden hut filled with crabbiness, harnesses, and helmets.

I looked up to find the ropes counselor, Chloe Bailey, a petite blond sixteen year old girl with, tangled hair, dark brown eyes, and dozens of freckles scattered across her cheeks like a starry night. After watching me gaze at the zip line all day, she knew exactly what I had come for. We Jogged across the field and I came to an abrupt stop at the foot of the tree that led up to the zip line. Seeing my destination this close for the first time, my heart began to thump uncontrollably while my knees quivered; I started having second thoughts about my “fearless” decision. “I’m not so ere about this,” I managed to stutter.

Chloe plopped a helmet on my head, placed her hand on my shoulder and said, “Don’t be worried, it’s going to be so much fun. ” My trembling legs slid into the harness, and Chloe yanked the loose straps. She clipped a carbine to my harness and attached it to a strong, elastic rope that hung from a seemingly thin metal wire. Thoughts of unrealistic events rushed through my mind like, what if it snapped and I fell to my death or, if the hook came undone. My stomach felt like it was twisted in a knot. I looked down at the small features of the Netscape below, and the people looking like tiny bugs.

I told Chloe “Just….. Push me so I won’t need to walk off”. I closed my eyes and prepared myself by taking deep breathes, when I feel a hand shove me off the edge. That second felt like I was falling forwards until I opened my eyes and I saw I was moving effortlessly down the smooth cord at an increasingly high speed. The wind pushed on my body and made my loose hair fly behind me, except this air was clean, crisp and fresh. I screamed while at the same time I was laughing. A man told me to drop a rope, which he used to stop me ND pull me too ladder so I could climb down.

My mind was racing as I realized that I had Just gone on that ridiculous thing. Another counselor with short brown hair and raggedy clothes helped me take off my heavy gear. As I stood there I remembered the rush of flying down, feeling absolutely weightless in the air. I shouted “l need to do that again! ” I grabbed the gear I had Just taken off and sprinted to the tree. I stopped Chloe from leaving the zip line; Chloe ran up to me and said muff had fun didn’t you” I nodded and I took a step off the edge not holding the rope or screaming, but thinking about how thrilled I was.

Personal Narrative

Accident It is amazing how many things we take for granted. We make plans for the day, and don’t think twice about how those plans can be taken away in the blink of an eye. I never thought much about it myself, until I was faced with the shock, and undeniable truth of my cousin’s death. I don’t think anyone really thinks about tragedy until they are actually faced with shocking news. I woke up on what I thought was going to be a wonderful Thursday off from work. I had the coffee brewing the windows open and all I heard was the sound of the birds singing and my two boys playing together in the bedroom.

I had our day planned out I was going to do laundry, straighten the house back up, and then after we got dressed and around I was going to take the boys into town to play at the park and go grab some lunch. All that changed when I got the worst phone call that I would never want anyone to receive. It was about 1 1 a. M. On Thursday June 26,2014 1 had laundry going in the washer and as my son was hollering for me and running towards me with my phone in his hand. It was my mom calling I thought she was Just calling to Just check on her granddaddies as it seems she calls to check on them what seems like twenty times a day.

When I answered and she was very upset I ask her what was going on as the thoughts running through my mind was something has happened to my grandma or she had something going on with her that she needed to tell me. Finally, after asking her over and over what was wrong she said I needed to get to the hospital right away because my cousin Olivia had been in a horrible car accident and they didn’t think she was going to make it. After she told me that my heart sank I didn’t know what to say I felt so nauseous all I could do was Just stand there in awe asking myself is this true or I reaming.

After getting myself together I called the babysitter and had her come over to watch the boys so I could race up to the hospital. As I got to the hospital I ran in through the emergency room looking for my family. Once I found them all I could do was still try to come to the realization that this was true. I come from a big family with many loving aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. As I was standing there I thought back to the time when I got to spend a week with Olivia. Almost a year ago to the date, most of the family was together for a family reunion.

All the cousins sat at the same table and we had such a good time together. Olivia was nine years younger than I and we had never really spent much time together, but we really connected last summer. She was a busy person, she was going to be a senior, she was involved with the track team and won many medals, and she also worked two part time Jobs. I was so honored that I had the chance of getting to know her and now, I would never get the chance to tell her how I felt and how much she helped me. My chance was gone and she is gone.

The morning of the accident Olivia was driving alone on a entry highway when she went off the road hit a mailbox over corrected and flipped the SUB she was driving and was ejected out of the vehicle. I do believe that she had an angel with her that day that was driving the opposite was of her that seen her accident happen. He ran over to her called 911 and immediately starting doing CPRM. He got her heart beating enough for her to be able to be on life support and allow us a little more time with her.

When we were finally able to go back into the CALL and see her I wasn’t for sure at first if I wanted to go back there as I had no idea what she was owing to look like and I didn’t want to have that kind of memory of her, but I knew that I needed to not only for me but for my aunt. As I was walking down hallway I could instantly hear my aunt crying and screaming “no no no please don’t take my baby from me, I’m not ready to let her go’ the tears instantly started rolling down my face like rain falling on the windshield on a dark rainy day.

When I entered that room it didn’t even look like her laying in that bed there was so many machines and tubes hooked up to her and she was so swollen you couldn’t even hardly tell it was her. All I could do was Just sit at her bedside and hold her hand and talk to her and tell her how much I loved and I didn’t want to let her hand go as I was Just hoping she would move or squeeze my finger. As the day was drawing to an end I didn’t want to leave but I knew that I needed to get home to my boys.

The following morning I was up early and back up at the hospital when I arrived my aunt had told me that they were going to run one more test to check for brain frequencies and that if there weren’t any she would have to do the hardest thing no parent should ever have to do and hat is tell them it is k to take Olivia off of life support. As we were walking down the long hallways that seemed like miles and miles long we entered the waiting room and couldn’t believe our eyes, the waiting room was so full of students from her high school it looked like the whole student body was there to support her.

I was speechless I Just looked around at all of them and my family and we knew then that she was so loved and had so many friends and impact on everyone. She never met a stranger. While sitting around and chatting with family Olive’s dad comes in and by he look on his face we knew it wasn’t good and he gave us the news that we didn’t want to hear, “I’m so sorry to say this but Olivia is no longer with us, she had is completely brain dead and we have to make the choice to take her off of life support. At that moment all you could hear was crying and sobbing my heart broke into a million pieces. I wondered slowly back down to her room and they were unhooking all the machines and tubes. All I could do was Just go up by her head and whisper in her ear and tell her how much I loved her, how special she was to me and how much of n impact she had on every single per she met. Olivia or “LIVE’ as we called her defined love and compassion beyond her years, always looking for the good in people and creating a positive influence for her peers.

She was a good listener, problem solver, and faithful friend. Olivia never met a stranger, was in love with life, and her kindness radiated through her beautiful smile and selfless actions by always thinking of others. Olive’s compassion and willingness to serve others continued even in her passing through her prior decision to give life through the Organ Donation Program. Her selfless decision to be an organ donor allowed her to save the life of a near death ten year old boy by giving her loving heart to him.

Personal Narrative

A few weeks ago, it was before an upcoming video game called “Grand Theft Auto 5” was about to be released, people on the media were talking about the “Grand Theft Auto” video game series due to the fact that it is considered to be one of the most controversial video game series. Despite its popularity, people have been opposed to the series. When people in some types of media were talking about the new “Grand Theft Auto” game, which was going to be released on September 2013, they’ve mentioned violent crimes being committed by people who were too into the “Grand Theft Auto” series and tried to reenact the video game in the past.

My mother actually believes violent video games do cause violence. As someone who enjoys playing video games, I was against to my mother’s opinion and tried to explain to her that violent video games are not responsible for violence being caused by young people. My mother and I recalled the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting because some people believe the 20-year-old perpetrator, Adam Lana, shot up the school and his mother due to the fact that he has played too many violent video games in the past. After the school-shooting, some people were considering banning violent video Ames, such as “Grand Theft Auto 5. I never understood the amount of biased opinions that people have about video games in general. My mother does not play video games at all, so of course, she would believe violent video games cause gamers to reenact the games that they’ve played, even though I have never done anything violent in my life. Vive told my mother that all of the people who tried to reenact the violent acts that were portrayed in the video games that they’ve played have some sort of mental illness, so the video games should not be blamed.

Vive reminded my mother that died games nowadays are making more money than the movie and music industry, so it should give my mother a hint that hundreds of millions of people play video games on regular basis, but people rarely hear news about gamers committing violent crimes due to the video games that they’ve played. Vive even told my mother that it was never proven that the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting actually occurred due to the fact that the perpetrator tried to act out the violent video games.

My mother still chose to deny the fact that violent video games don’t cause people to commit violent acts. She once said “if those people have never played violent video games in the first place, then they would’ve never hurt other people. ” Vive told her that if those who are willing to hurt others because of violent video games would Just go and seek help from professionals, such as therapists or psychologists, then violent video games would not cause people to hurt others.

Vive even reminded my mother that Vive been playing video games that contain graphic violence for a few years now and Vive never hurt anyone. Another tactic that Vive used to convince my mother was that I compared this situation to another. For example, my mother believes violent video games cause people to hurt others, so Vive told her “that’s like saying drinking alcohol will cause people to be violent. ” There are a lot more crimes being committed due to alcohol abuse than violent video games, but people never consider banning alcohol.

When people hear about a couple of events where people might have committed violent crimes due to violent video games, people already start to consider that violent video games should be banned. There is no logic in that sort of statement. My mother started to become confuse about the topic, but she really started to vive in after I told her this, “if violent video games should be banned because they cause people to be violent, then the same logic should go with movies, music, and books. ” Some people believe Mark David Chapman killed John Leno because he was influenced by the novel Catcher in the Rye.

In 1989, a 19-year-old male, Robert John Board, shot and killed a 21 -year-old actress and model, Rebecca Schaeffer, and people believe Board killed Schaeffer due to Catcher in the Rye also. But no one considers banning those type of books. In 1999, two teenage boys shot up Columbine High School where fifteen people died, including the two perpetrators. Many people blamed the musical artists that the two perpetrators listened to for the massacre; such as Marilyn Manson, KM, and Reinstate.

But people never consider banning that type of music. On July 2012, a 24-year-old, named James Eagan Holmes, shot up a movie theater, resulting to the death of twelve people and injured seventy people. People believe Holmes tried to reenact “The Joker” from The Dark Knight. But no one considers banning those types of movies. So I asked my mother, “why is it okay for people to watch violent movies, listen to dark music, and read dark novels, UT it’s not okay for people to play violent video games? My mother finally gave in and admitted that violent video games probably don’t cause people to become violent. Vive told my mother that people think violent video games cause violence probably because people are not used to video games. Films, music, and books have been around for so much longer than video games, so people would Just need to get used to video games and realize that it’s not that different from other source of entertainment. Since it was my mother who I was trying to persuade, it was easier for me to persuade her because I knew she was going to sites to me.

It was also easy for her because if someone else were to explain to her how violent video games do not cause violence, my mother probably wouldn’t understand. The outcome of the persuasion was definitely affected by the relationship I had with the person who I was trying to persuade though. Like with many discussions that include one to persuade another, it would include people having different opinions or Just disagreements. The person who is actually persuading may not always be right though, so it is important for both people to listen to each other’s thoughts and opinions.

Personal Narrative

Personal reflection is an essential part of learning, learning about theories means absolutely nothing until you can apply it to life in a real way. According to the textbook (2010), the facilitation of human growth and development is a primary purpose of therapeutic practice. Reflecting on learning through your own life is difficult but a key part of becoming a well-rounded counselor and person.

The way in which a person develops cognitively, emotionally and socially vary, and understanding the way in which a person came to be who they are today is important or growth and understanding. Personal Narrative: One There are different ways to view changes and growth throughout life, the focus throughout this paper will be on the cognitive, emotional and social development starting with the early years. The person I am today, was most definitely shaped by the way in which I grew up and the environment that I was in. How much impact did the environment and nature play into the person I have grown to be?

Cognitive Development The way that a person thinks, problem solves, remembers and process information and makes decisions varies from person to person, why is this? All children go through stages differently and in response adults all have different ways to go through with these things. According to Piglet’s stages of development (1952, 1954), children learn how to do these skills best when their parents and educators give them freedom to explore their surroundings and giving them learning environments that are similar to their level of ability (p. 10). Thinking back to my childhood and the environment in which I grew up was difficult.

Looking at Piglet’s stages and connecting them with the way that I problem solve and the way that I used to robber solve there were definite connections. As an infant everything that you do is seniority responses, children sometimes mimic what they see around them and eventually people are able to think logically or in an abstract way. Throughout my life my parents let me explore my surroundings and never held me back in that aspect. As a child I never tested my limits, I always followed the rules and I believe that the cultural context in which I was brought up in played a huge role in this.

My family was very dysfunctional and I took what I was taught by my mother and father about eight and wrong decisions combined with the contradicting view of what their actions were to make my own decisions. According to Piglet’s adaptation theory (1952, 1954) humans use assimilation and accommodation to make decisions. Coming from a family where the right decisions were not always made, and taking into consideration what I knew was right I was able to make my own decisions in life. I feel as though I am an abstract thinker and that I am able to use my experience as a child to make better decisions than my parents did a lot of the times.

The culture in which I was eased also played a huge role in my overall cognitive development. My parents stressed the importance of fitting in and being accepted by others, the way that I made decisions was in direct correlation with this, according to Weights culture has an impact on cognitive development (Augusto, 1934, p. 21). Emotional Development I am a highly sensitive person, always have been. I am completely in touch with my feelings and I often get hurt easily because of this. Thinking back to my early years, I can remember when my mother used to encourage me to express myself, this has en the root to my emotional side.

According to the textbook a child’s emotional skills are a lot of times related to the type of caregiver you had (2006). My mother was always responsive, I believe that is how I learned that showing emotion was k, this continued on into my adult life. According to Grouse’s developmental position, emotions are not fully formed at birth and that is why those early connections are so crucial to full emotional development (Grouse, 1996, p. 116). This also brings up the idea of culture and the impact it had on me.

Growing up in a culture where it was k o express emotion, my growth in this area has been to its full capacity, I do believe that if I were in a culture that this wasn’t the case I would not be as fully developed in this area. Social Development There are certain theories I found myself connecting with while others it was much harder. I connected much easier with Erosion’s personality theory, stating that humans form their social relationships in the first year of life (Erikson, 1950/1963, p. 122). My mother and father always responded to me, this is where I formed my basic trust and was able to view others as dependable and trustworthy (p. 3). I spoke with my mother about the type of infant I was, she mentioned that I loved people and especially her. I asked her several questions as to what type of child I was in certain situations. She mentioned that I cried when she dropped me off to the sitters, but once she left I would be k. She also said that I let Just about anyone hold me, and wasn’t afraid of people. After chatting I drew the conclusion that I was most likely securely attached. It sounded like I had a secure sense of who my mother was, was comfortable in situations with others, but always felt most comfortable around my other.

The attachment theories that Bowl came up with discuss the importance of secure attachment as a child, for this reason I am thankful for the care I was given as a child, I believe it carried over into my adult life and I am able to have full trusting relationships (Bowl, 1969/1982, 1973, 1980, p. 122) Discussion Early life experiences change the way that people develop. In my early years I am grateful that my parents let me explore my boundaries so that I was able to problem solve and think for myself.

Personal Narrative A Child’s Influence

There comes a time in everyone’s life when they have a moment of clarity. Be it something positive or negative, something always makes your life very clear to you. My Godson was that (five year long) moment for me. All of his ups and downs, his falls and stands, his birth and untimely death. Every cut, scrape and bruise life gave us both. All of these parts of my little boy made me the person, and therefore the writer, I am today. When I was a young boy of 12, I had very few friends. Sage and Johnny were two of my oldest friends.

They were a few years older than me and were basically engaged to be married from the day they met. We went to the same school for a few years and never lost contact whenever I moved. We were hanging out one day and they told me that Sage was pregnant and asked if I would be their child’s Godfather. I was more than ecstatic to agree; I was going to be able to help in the rearing of another human life. This was weird for me; I had never thought about children before and definitely didn’t think I was ready for one of my own.

A few weeks after his birth, little Brooklyn was delivered to my doorstep with a letter explaining that his parents were killed in a car crash. My Godson became my son that day. This little blanket wrapped, human riots was now my responsibility. Over the next five years, being a father taught me more about myself than anyone had ever shown me; the Joys of parenthood. He grew into a fine looking young boy. Dark brown hair, ocean blue eyes with Everest green accents, tanned skin like his mother, brilliant white smile with a missing front tooth and he was surprisingly tall for a five year old boy (46″).

We laughed, we cried. We played, we fought. I tried to give him the best life I could; a life his parents would’ve given him. Once I enrolled at Sierra College, Brooklyn went to live with his grandparents, in Florida, for the master. We e-mailed everyday. Well, his grandmother e-mailed me his responses word for word. This was what started getting my writing skills up and moving, aesthetically at least. I would ask him to give me story ideas and send him back a two to three page bedtime story every now and again.

Then it slowly became an everyday thing and I was writing a new story every night. My creative Juices were flowing like a river. I wrote stories about princesses and knights, dragons and demons, swords and sorcery; I wrote damn near every child’s storybook in my own words and condensed it down to fit in a short email. On July Second, I received no e-mail. I figured it was Just a busy day so I ignored it. Over the next two weeks I received no e-mails either. I finally called Brooklyn grandparents to find out Just what was going on.

Come to find out, their phone was disconnected so, I chalked it up to they Just haven’t paid their bills and went to sleep. On the morning of July sixteenth, I was woken up from my in class nap by a phone call from a hospital in Florida. My son, my inspiration, my life, was dead. He had had a seizure and cracked his head on the coffee table. He was rushed to EMCEE but had slipped into a coma. When the doctors told his grandparents how much the cost of life support would be, they told them to pull the plug. They had also told the hospital not to contact me about it.

However, due to legal obligations they called me. I was in class at the time and I broke down right there in the hallway at school. There was nothing I could’ve done at that moment to make it seem like my world hadn’t Just crashed and burned. I felt that I had lost everything that was good in the world. So I left class and after crying myself into an emotionless coma, I began to rewrite the essay I had to write for my English Class. I wrote my final essay about his life; all of the great and terrible moments it encompassed.

It pushed me beyond my limits as a writer. It made me realize that writing in length was something I’d never really done. A twenty-five page essay, amortizing my son, was turned in after struggling to put thought to paper. Translating actual fact into written text has always been a weakness of mine. I can write in excruciating detail about the daemons from the seventh layer of the abyss being slain by a courageous villager who was forced to rise to the heroic occasion however, taking a memory then translating it to text was always so difficult for me.

But, after that paper was turned in I realized that story telling was something I was great at, it Just took time. The death of my son turned me into a much darker writer. I began to allow the villains to win in my stories Just as the villain had won in his. The Angle of Death had taken the hero from my life. I started turning my antagonists into the protagonists (by definition at least). The pain I felt I started to turn onto my readers and it has stuck with me. I still, to this day, feel that the villains, no matter how many times they are eat, will eventually win.

The heroes are Just there as a glimmer of hope for humanity to hide behind. It is a negative way to look at things, sure but, it is my way of looking at stories. The experience of loosing someone so close to your heart changes you, in every format. Be it how you view the world, how you treat others and yourself, even how you write. Seeing as how he was why I wrote so much in the first place, it’s no wonder as to why his death made me the writer I am today. If nothing else is taken from this story take this, never forget your origin story. Never forget yourself.

Sample Personal Narrative Argument Essa

I try not to dwell on the situation, tear up when I see a beautiful baby, or feel the inadequacy of being unable to produce offspring. I hold on to my faith. I hope and pray that I will one day hold my newborn child. After experiencing the pain and hopelessness of multiple miscarriages, I cannot begin to fathom how a woman could intentionally destroy the life of her child. I understand the myriad circumstances in which a woman could find herself with an unwanted pregnancy, but as the statistics show, there are millions of omen, millions of families, who would want that pregnancy, who would love and shelter that child.

My husband and I may be one of those potential families. We still have faith that we will have a biological child, but that may not be realized. I was twenty five when I moved to California and twenty six when Jon and I married. It seemed all we had was time. We stayed in Call for several years and moved around the Inland Empire quite a bit. We lived in five different homes in five different cities. Jon was teaching while I worked several diverse Jobs. I was trying to mind my place in the world, uncertain of which professional direction I wanted to go in.

As time passed and our financial situation worsened, we realized that we’d have to change some things if we wanted to start a family. We couldn’t continue to put off having a child while we waited for our financial situation to improve and decided where to settle down permanently. When the recession hit in 2009 and Jon was laid off for the third consecutive year, the decision was made for us. We moved back to Louisiana in 2010 and eventually settled in Lafayette. In 2012 1 was working at a local law firm as the billing administrator and Jon was teaching at Acadia High School.

He had only a few classes left to finish his master’s degree in Educational Administration, and we began looking for a house. We searched for about a year, at first looking at older, more cost effective homes. We finally decided on a brand new three bedroom home in Huntsville. We picked out the plan we wanted and a few months later work on our brand new home began. It was Spring of 2012. It was around this time we figured we better start trying to fill up those new bedrooms with children. I had Just turned thirty two, still young enough, but it was sat time to get the baby train moving.

We tried to get pregnant for about three months and were beginning to get worried when I was pleasantly surprised one Saturday morning in May; I got a positive pregnancy test. I had imagined a myriad of ways to tell my husband we were expecting our first child, but I was so shocked that I just wondered into the kitchen and told him, “l think I’m pregnant” while he stood at the sink loading the dishwasher. His reaction was very similar to mine. After about five minutes of being dumbfounded, we started getting excited. A couple hours and here plus signs later we were calling our parents and siblings.

We were elated, as was our family. This would be the first grandchild in both our immediate families. I went in for blood work a couple days later and would see my doctor around the 10 week. The blood test confirmed I was pregnant, and we began to share the news with close friends and the rest of the family. It may have been premature, but we formulated several pages of baby names for both sexes, argued over our favorites, and not so favorites. We were in baby bliss, until the seventh week. It was a Monday morning at the end of June, and I awoke lending terribly ill.

I had horrible stomach cramps, nausea, and various other unpleasant intestinal issues. I called into to work to let them know I would be late, thinking this would pass soon. I was wrong, it continued to worsen, and then the bleeding started. I was in a near panic; I was pregnant and that type of bleeding is not a good sign. I called my doctor’s office and had to explain to the receptionist that I was having a miscarriage and needed to speak with my doctor’s nurse. I was then put on hold, sent to the nurse’s voice mail, where I again had to explain that I was having miscarriage and needed someone to call me.

Jon was teaching LEAP remediation that summer and was giving the test that day. I called the school in tears and was told he was testing, and I would have to leave a message unless it was an emergency, and to my mind, it was. I told the woman, mimes, it’s an emergency. ” Jon got on the phone a few minutes later, though it felt much longer to me. Time had somehow suspended itself, and I was in a horribly slow nightmare. At the sound of his voice time righted itself, and I struggled to get myself under control enough to answer his question. He asked, “What’s wrong” to which I replied, “l think I’m having a miscarriage. He said, “I’ll be home as soon as possible. ” Jon came through the kitchen, and I launched myself into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. He Just held me; I don’t think we spoke a single word. He stood there and absorbed all my fears and pain, comforted me with his mere presence. When I was able to speak, I explained the situation in more detail. The nurse called shortly thereafter, and we were told my doctor couldn’t see me until pm that afternoon. It was around 1 lam. Three hours seemed an eternity at that point, so we opted for the emergency room.

About an hour after our arrival to the ERR, I was taken to another room for an ultrasound. Once Jon and I were ensconced in the tiny closet like room, we were introduced to the ultrasound tech and the individual she was training. Jon and I feared the loss of our first child while this woman described how to perform an ultrasound to her trainee, completely oblivious to our distress and pain. The examination continued while I contorted myself around to view the screen, not knowing or understanding exactly what I was looking at, but praying to God that I would see a flutter, a miniscule beat.

I saw nothing; I felt nothing. We were hustled back to our room, where we waited another hour or so before the ERR doctor came to examine me. After his examination, the doctor explained that according to the ultrasound, I was only five weeks along so that’s probably why there was no heart beat on the ultrasound and that I hadn’t miscarried yet. It was a threat of miscarriage. I was confused as I was supposed to be seven weeks, but I listened as the doctor explained that I should rest for few days and see my doctor in three or four days.

The Fourth of July holiday was coming up and we had schedule a mini vacation for hat time. I spoke once again with my doctor’s nurse and she assured me that some women bleed during pregnancy and that I should go on my vacation and rest and try not worry. So that’s exactly what we did. But the bleeding continued and when we returned from vacation, I went in to see my doctor. After another ultrasound, in which I again searched for any sign of life in my womb, I was devastated when my doctor came in and told me I was indeed miscarrying. She went on to explain it’s something called a blighted ovum, or embryonic pregnancy.

The egg is fertilized, however due o chromosomal or hormonal issues, it never develops or dies very early on. She then told me to think of it this way: It was like I was never really pregnant so my child didn’t really die. I know she was trying to make me feel better, but what she made me feel was the exact opposite. You see, I believe there was a child. I believe that as soon as the egg and sperm combined and fertilization took place, my child was made. Life was started. It was ended very abruptly, but I believe it began. I went on to have a natural miscarriage, with no interference from medication or medical procedures.

It took three weeks. Three weeks of constantly being reminded that I had lost my child, that I wouldn’t be giving birth and that I wouldn’t be using one of those adorable baby names that my husband and I argued over. It was one of the most painful experiences of my life, and Vive known my fair share of heartbreak. We were told not to despair, that miscarriages are very common, and indeed they are; much more common that I had originally thought. I had never known an individual who miscarried. My mom had five children, my mother-in-law four, my grandmothers had seven children between them, and Son’s grandmothers both had six each.

Not a single miscarriage among them. But, we did like we were told and remained somewhat hopeful that the next pregnancy would result in a healthy child. We waited another three months before we tried again. We were excited when I once again got pregnant, and after the first go around too. I had a new doctor, one I felt much more comfortable with. We went in at six weeks because of the previous miscarriage. My doctor spent over an hour with us and performed the ultrasound herself. I was incredibly nervous but kept telling myself there was no reason to worry. The first miscarriage was probably a fluke and this child would be fine.

I held my breath while watching that ultrasound screen, willing a heartbeat to be there. I watched my doctor’s face and could tell she was somewhat worried. She finally said the words, the words I had been dreading – no heartbeat. She then told us I could just be a little earlier than we thought. If that was the case, then it was too soon for a heartbeat. But I knew. I had this inexplicable feeling it was happening again. So it was another week of waiting, another week of tortuous thoughts. A week later I was again on a stupid little bed waiting for a stupid little machine to tell me my child was lethal and alive.

But that’s not what it told me, it told me there would be no child, again. It told me I had a blighted ovum, again. Jon and I went in to speak with my doctor after the ultrasound, and I cried. I tried to get my emotions under control because I had very important questions for this woman. She was incredibly understanding and waited while I cried; then waited while I cried some more. Eventually we were able to discuss the situation, and she recommended we go see a specialist, a reproductive endocrinologist. She said it was very unusual, unusual-what terrible word, she said it was very unusual to have two blighted ovum.

I had a D&C, a procedure to remove the tissue, two days before Thanksgiving 2012. We waited a few months then looked into the specialist, only to find out our insurance doesn’t cover “infertility’, another terrible word. I’m not infertile. I can get pregnant; I Just can’t stay pregnant. Apparently, these two very different facts are treated exactly the same in the world of insurance. Meanwhile Vive started my scholastic Journey, and now I have to plan my pregnancy around semesters, or another miscarriage. We can’t afford to pay for all these tests.

Vive Just paid off the medical bills resulting from the first two miscarriages, we’re paying a bundle on Son’s student loans, and now I’m incurring my own student loans. Our window of having a child is closing quickly as my age continues to climb. Our predicament becomes more dire as each day passes. Our only option may be to give up on having a child naturally. Our only option may be to adopt. Yet, we may not have that opportunity because of the uninformed, selfish decision of millions of would-be mothers. Many argue that abortion is simply a right, like freedom of speech or the right to bear arms.

World history personal narrative

On the first days of the meeting, they brought cashiers, the King and his delegates announced the principles of the meeting ND the Third Estate discovered that the double representation was in fact a sham. It was decided that the votes will be hold by orders, 1 vote for each estate and not by head. The double representation was a fallacy. Louis XVI and his advisors focused on a complete overhaul of the French tax system. They exposed their view while the only preoccupation of the Third Estate was to talk about their representation.

The only solution to the financial crisis was to make all us people of France pay the taxes because of the deficit spending, no matter what estate they were from. At the time, only us the third estate was subject to the taxes. The Nobility was taking care of the lands and the Clergy was responsible of the people’s education. Their argument was that their action was a huge benefit to society and should therefore be exempt from paying taxes. But obviously, the King’s decision was heavily rejected by the Nobility. Louis XVI faced a huge resistance from his own group who wouldn’t accept any loss of wealth or power.

He was heavily criticized by the Nobility who pictured him as a stupid, nerdy man with a way of governing the country that was full of nonsense. A couple of me and my rebel friends Joined the national assembly. I gave them warning that the town was talking about how the king was getting suspicious about their meetings and discussions of the constitution. So we moved are meetings into a tennis court. We stayed there until we finished writing the constitution of 1791. I felt that this was the first step to the French revolution.

Today on the 14th of July 1789 we visited the pastille which is a prison for bad people in Paris who don’t agree with the king. The revolution began when a large group of people stormed to the pastille to rebel against the king. It lasted for 10 years. Now there is a holiday for storming the pastille, it is called pastille day. It’s sort of like the American’s Independence Day. We shoot gun powder in the air to celebrate. Today the Paris communes government was created. There was a fight in the in the French countryside. There were rumors that the lord hired robbers to kill peasants.

Although it wasn’t true it scared the people, this lead to the peasants uprising against the local lords. The poor broke until many houses, killed nobles and stole from them. This violence was called the great fear. Today the fighting continued throughout the countryside. We the third estate wanted to be equal to all people of France. The motto we went by was “Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity’. The greedy first and second estate didn’t want to give up what they had for so long. We forced the first and second estate to give up some land because of violent acts. National assembly created a bill of rights.

We copied some of it from America. This was the declaration of rights which is in the constitution. The march on Versailles on October 5 thousands of women streamed down the road creaming “bread “they shouted demanding to see the king. Much of the crowd was against the queen because in early revolution, the press spread the answer the cries on hungry people for bread to “let them eat cake. ” it helping inflame feelings against the queen. The women refused to leave Versailles until the king met their most important demand-?to return to Paris. Not too happily, the king agreed. They told people they were bring them back to Paris.

In Paris, the royal family moved into the Utilities palace. For the next three years, Louis was a virtual prisoner. Louse’s failed Marie Antoinette and others had been urging the king to escape their humiliating situation. Louis finally gave in. One night in June 1791, a coach rolled north from Paris toward the border. Inside sat the king disguised as a servant, the queen dressed as a governess, and the royal children. The attempted escape failed. In a town along the with the king’s face on it. A company of soldiers escorted the royal family back to Paris, as on looking crowd’s hurled insults at the king.

To many, Louse’s dash to the border showed that he was a traitor to the revolution. The new constitution set up a limited monarchy. They created Legislative assembly who decided how to run France. We got a part in there where farmers can protect their land. So the monarchy wouldn’t have too much power. Debates started happening over Europe. Supporters of the enlightenment appealed the reform. The coward magis, who left France, were punished by the republic. A new book called Reflections on the revolution was written by Edmund Burke it was about the revolutions and working class Sans Culottes and how they were treated different.

WGSS Discussion Paper Personal Narrative

Although it can be beautiful, Southern California is a very materialistic and power hungry environment, which Is meeting my family and I were looking to get away from when we decided to move to Corvallis. However, the move also changed our perspectives on gender roles and expectations and our family values. As a kid in Orange County, many of the families I grew up with were very traditional with a stay-at-home mom, or a mom with an “on-the-side” type of Job, and the dad was always the provider and worker bee of the family. That’s how it was in my household too.

My mom would do most of the housework, and my dad would be gone all day at his Job. When we moved, that all changed. Instead of looking for work right away, my dad decided to stay-at-home with the kids for a while my mom pursued a career in hairstyling. This was a dramatic shift for us kids, but one that would prove to be very important in my life as I learned to view both men and women as equals who should have equal opportunity to pursue what they love. Around this time, my family started a tradition of eating together every night for dinner.

My parents consciously decided to prioritize dinner as a time for family. Knowing that they cared enough about my siblings and I to want that time with us growing up made me feel unbelievably loved and cared for and therefore helped build my sense of self-esteem and self-respect in my adolescent years because I knew no matter what happened my family would be there for me. Ever since I was a kid I wanted to challenge what It meant to be a girl or a woman. When I was four years old, I realized that I wanted to go to college straight out of high school and pursue a career. Ere soon after that, that goal became even more important to me as I realized that I would be the first girl on my mom’s side of the family to graduate college if my dream of attending came true. My entire life following, I worked hard studying and working on school activities so that I could get into a good college when the time came. Not only was this my goal, but it became my family goal as well. They wanted to see me succeed Just as much, If not more, then I wanted to see myself succeed.

I’m studying business now and even though that’s not traditionally considered a career path for women, my family always pushed me and dad it so that I never felt intimidated by male dominated career paths. Gender expectations and stereotypes evaporated when they realized that this is what I wanted. Vive always been independent and had a desire to try new things. Vive worked on building houses and learned self-defense all so that I could feel empowered and Just as capable of taking care of myself as any man In this world, while still me, but also encouraged me to pursue those types of activities and to push myself to new heights.

I feel grateful to have a wide range of experiences that not only allow e to push myself, but to also challenge my family about what it means to be a girl or a woman and at the same time be Just as strong and capable as any man. I want to be a successful business owner in the future, and US is a way of getting me there. But I also want to be a wife, mother, and positive contributor in my family. Having the college experience also allows me to do this because I can achieve my dreams and ultimately become the woman I want to be, and the woman that my family knows I can be, and for that I am very appreciative.