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Stress and coping strategies theory
Stress management and coping mechanisms
Stress and coping strategies theory
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It was a warm morning in October when I faced for the first time in my life how painful it would be being a shy person. There I was, nine years old, inside the classroom, right after my classmates and I had read a tale named “Malagueta Pepper John”. It featured the story of a kid who instantly blushed every time he was going through an embarrassing situation in his miserable life. The problem was that, on that morning, I had just gone through a kind of shameful experience too. Don't ask me what it was; I just know that minutes after it happened, a fellow student started calling me “Malagueta Pepper John” and everyone in that entire room of stone-hearted children followed his lead. That opened my eyes. My perception about myself was so distorted and vague that I had never before realized this kind of reaction in me. I was exactly like the character, John, in that children's story; every embarrassing situation that I had ever faced in my life made me blush immediately. From that moment onward, I began to notice how the “process” happened. It was actually rather funny, in a way, becau...
When reading this book I began to think of how I grew up and how I am a
Since the beginning of man, people have been fighting for what they want. Tom Clancy shows that through his main character, Marko Ramius, who was doing everything he could to save his crew from the grip of Communism. In Clancy’s novel The Hunt for Red October, Clancy depicts that what someone will do to fight for their freedom.
“I see you Mr. Adza, I see right through you. You think you can charm your way out of any situation with your big smile and smooth way with words, but you can’t just coast through life with this sort of arrogant, nonchalant attitude. One day its really gonna bite you in the ass,” said Mr. Jansen, as he towered over my desk. Most of the class had scurried out at the sound of the school bell. I was simply trying to explain to the man that my random outbursts in class actually did him a favor because it loosened my classmates up, freeing their mind for the learning process. In fact, Mr. Jansen and I were actually a team. We were the dream team! I was the comic relief and he was the scholar. We went hand in hand.
I am enthralled after reading this particular essay. I think about myself and wonder if I ever get bewildered due to how a person
Confessions of a ‘Mud Pie’ By any ordinary standard my life has not been what you would call phenomenal. To tell you about my life would be like listening to your neighbor’s life history……… not very interesting and yet not too mediocre either. Hence I don’t know where to begin. But start I must for all stories have a beginning they say and one can never say the direction it can take in due time. I have always been an average child to say the least. Much to the disappointment of my parents I was never quite the whiz kid that they expected me to be. Being an only child of two loving parents I have been given everything that I could possibly ask for. Of course I have my moments of disillusionment but that’s what makes all of us human right? As a kid I experienced so many different things – pain, joy, love, humiliation – all in one go. It was like a roller-coaster ride, with its ups and downs. So I may not be a celebrity but my life has been pretty interesting at least for me. As a kid I remember being the object of ridicule and mockery sometimes. Being the happy-go-lucky sort of person that I am I took it all in the stride but things changed with one small sentence. A kid at school told me that since I was the color of mud so that is just where I belonged – at the bottom of the earth. All around me children were laughing and calling me a “mud pie” while I just stood by and watched miserably. I didn’t know how to react. Later when I went home and told my parents, they were infuriated and complained to the principal and subsequent action was also taken but that incident will remain etched in my memory forever because it crudely reminded me that I was not just like everyone else. I was different because of the way I looked. As I gr...
...tionship has completely evolved and the narrator somewhat comes into her own a natural and inevitable process.
As we arrived, my stomach started to turn inside out, and I wasn’t sure why, but I knew when that happens I turn into a nervous wreck. They sat me in the hallway as they chattered about me I was assuming. On our bumpy car ride home, my parents stopped through an ice cream shop, knowing that’s a way to cheer their little boy. They sat me down and told me about how the teacher is concerned with my low-level reading and writing skills. It bothered me very much, that the teacher had never said anything to me one on one. My parents told me that I might be held back, and to stay positive and don’t let this bring you down. This caused so much confusion and discouragement for a seven year old boy. I was still in discomfort after the day reading because of how the kids laughed when I read my
I walked in and my stomach made a flip-flop like riding “The Scream” at Six Flags. Everyone was staring at me! With their curios eyes and anxious to know who I was. I froze like ice and felt the heat rise through my face. My parents talked to my teacher, Ms.Piansky. Then my mom whispered “It’s ti...
A “Critical Essay on ‘The Metamorphosis’.” Short Stories for Students. Ed. Jennifer Smith. Vol.
Nothing has changed my life more since the realization that I had to make who I was something that I chose, and not something that just happened. Since this revelation nothing seemed the same anymore, as though I could see the world through new eyes. It changed everything from my taste in music, literature, and movies. Things of a dark and pessimistic nature used to hold a strong allure for me, and yet I found much of things I once enjoyed didn't seem to entertain me anymore. I remembered the mental state that I once held and now seeing how I have changed, know that I can never return to the prison I came from.
A little boy with a toothless smile came running toward me. I stopped him and gave him my water slide tickets. He gave me a smile that said I had given him the world and ran away squealing after his daddy. I sighed again and thought, "Well, at least he's happy!" My throat tightened as I swallowed another sob. I quickened my pace to the changing room. I wanted to get away from this place as soon as possible. I opened the door and walked in. The smell of sulfur, soap, and shampoo assaulted my nostrils, while the sight of naked wom...
I remember the first time I walked into the classroom, it was unlike any classroom that used to know. Everything was unorganized, kids were out of their seats, silly posters and drawings cover most of the walls, and books, pencils, and markers were all over the place. The teacher didn’t seem to be bothered by all the ruckus happening in that room. She was a large woman who seem to be in her 40s with short white hair and unusually pale skin. She asked for my name, and so I introduced myself. Anything else that she said beyond that is but a blur to me. As she introduce me to the class, I couldn’t help but to look confused and stay silent. My eyes wander around the room and I watch as the others murmur and chatter among themselves. Immediately, I realize that I was out of place. Something about me was different from the others. It wasn’t because of the color of my skin, nor my ethical background; the class itself was very well diverse. It was something on a deeper level, a connection that they all but myself have in common. The ability to translate emotions into words that can be shared and to be understands by others. It was the language that they
It was a 2014 lightly snowy Sunday evening and I had just returned back to Cabrini for my spring semester as a freshman, but I wasn’t sure the time I had returned into my dorm room and who had helped me unpack my belongings (it was either my mom or dad). Since it was considered to be a new year, it was one of my goals to be less shy in class and begin to be
For at least fifteen years of my life, I kept my emotions bottled up, my secrets under lock and key. Not once did I even question if I could talk about my life to anybody, I couldn’t. Instead of learning to talk about my life, to talk about my feelings, to talk about my troubles and my hardships and my state of being… I learned to be ashamed. I learned wrong.
Nevertheless, I still felt nervous talking in front of class, and I felt that my identity had ran away from me leaving me just a moving, breathing, and a seamless creature in front of the mirror. and so my journey began.