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Personal Narrative Traumatic Events in My Family The time came for her to be delivered. She gave birth to her first born son, wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in the manger, because there was no room for them in the inn. These were the words that I had spoken during a church Christmas play while I was just about to see the light at the end of my elementary school career. As I looked out into the faces of my family, I realized that I was making someone proud. I too was proud to have such a caring family whom I thought would be my strength throughout my life. Life has been so good to me thus far with wonderful parents, an older sister to whom I worshiped, and an older brother to keep me in tune with the magnificent world of child’s play pain and torture. Little did I know that all this happiness and perfect melody was going to come to an end, and terminate the only way of life I had known. At the young age of ten, my father had decided to leave home to pursue a life separate than that of which he had created with our family. I do not believe that I put any blame on him for the drastic effect his leaving had on my life. However, the changes that I went through seemed to have been a direct result from this dramatic stress of knowing that my family would never again be the place of harmony that it once was. Shortly after I had received confirmation that my father was not going to return, this evidence coming from the sudden trips to the shrink, I seemed to become almost completely rebellious toward my mother, as if it had been her fault that I was put in this situation. My grades started to suffer significantly, my verbal communication seemed to worsen, and my overall obedience was at an unprecedented lo... ... middle of paper ... ...ege. By this time I had even managed to save up enough money to go with a friend to travel Scotland and spread his brothers ashes in the highlands. While there I had a chance to speak with several student from the college in Edinburgh. They seemed to be over joyous to be able to give advice to an American. I had never been faced with such an abundance of interesting and friendly people. This too became another reason for me to better my life so as I would be able visit more cultures and communities in the future. So now it is my second year in college and I must say that I have not done too badly thus far. It may take me several years to accomplish my goals; nevertheless I’m proud to be able to say I have them. On the other hand, I may find that I will not be able to reach what I feel would be my final hurdle, but to know that I am trying is enough for me.
As I reflect on my college life, I wonder about the choices I have made that have led me to where I am today and that will guide me into shaping who I long to become. The things I have had to sacrifice, the support and experiences I have had with family, friends, strangers and work colleagues. I don’t know what I will be doing three months or thirty years from now but I do know that I want to have new experiences. When I graduated from high school, I knew I didn’t want to be that person that moved back to the same town and stayed there for the rest of my life. I even contemplate leaving the United States in my adult life. Who really knows, maybe those cards are still in the deck. For now, I know my immediate goals include focusing on completing my college education the best I can, and moving away from my comfort zone, broadening my horizons and taken risks.
Growing up, my parents never expected perfection but expected that I try to accomplish my best. The effort I’ve put forth in learning has been reflected in my grades throughout my high school career. I’ve entered myself in vigorous course work such as AP Government and AP English to become well prepared for my college career, all while maintaining a 4.4 grade point average this year. Not only do I engage in AP classes, but up until this year I had no study halls. I wanted my day to be packed full of interesting classes that I would enjoy learning about. My grades and choice of classes prove the effort that I put forth in my learning. Working hard now can only pay off in the future. Learning now creates a well-rounded human being. Working to learn is why I am so dedicated to my studies now.
There were many days that passed when I felt as though I wasn’t going to make it and I felt as though I didn’t deserve to be alive, but who is really ready to take care of a child anyhow? I wasn’t. Then one day I woke up and realized that my life would go on, and that I just had to do the best I could and learn from my mistakes.
So far this year, I felt pretty satisfied with my progress this semester. I feel like I am slowly adapting to the new way papers and assignments are handled. All my college work depends solely on me now. No one is going to baby me anymore and whether I succeed or fail depends on how much effort I put into something. For the first time in my life I wrote a paper. Not just a five paragraph essay but actual pages, which is extremely challenging. It’s also been my first time studying for five hours straight so I can pass an actual test. I didn’t know I possessed this level of dedication, it’s probably because it isn’t free.
I stand awake and alert. A first year college student with my sights fixed firmly ahead and my goals just within reach. A positive light is cast upon my future endeavors. Yet, as I reflect upon my educational experiences, I find myself drawing parallels between the direction in which my life is headed now and the similar paths I have traveled along before. I am forced to ask myself if I am truly prepared for what lies ahead. I have asked myself the same thing many times. I was once in a similar position. A fledgling student wavering just between the lines of hesitancy and motivation. I was beginning my freshman year at Oakmont Regional High School in Ashburnham, Massachusetts.
I am an undocumented student at UC Davis. When I am asked a simple question such as, "describe your personal experiences", I ask myself: Where do I begin?
I can still remember that small enclosed, claustrophobic room containing two armed chairs and an old, brown, paisley print couch my dad and I were sitting on when he told me. “The doctors said there was little to no chance that your mother is going to make it through this surgery.” Distressed, I didn’t know what to think; I could hardly comprehend those words. And now I was supposed to just say goodbye? As I exited that small room, my father directed me down the hospital hallway where I saw my mother in the hospital bed. She was unconscious with tubes entering her throat and nose keeping her alive. I embraced her immobile body for what felt like forever and told her “I love you” for what I believed was the last time. I thought of how horrific it was seeing my mother that way, how close we were, how my life was going to be without her, and how my little sisters were clueless about what was going on. After saying my farewells, I was brought downstairs to the hospital’s coffee shop where a million things were running
Many students are struggling in college. According to the New York Times Web site, only 33 percent of the college students are graduating in six years. Obviously students still need much help to succeed in order to get where they want to go. Although college can be challenging, I am going to succeed by using advice from experts, by developing strategies and ideas, and by taking advantage of the benefits offered by my college.
...lings that overcame me: it was the first time I felt as though I was important, the first time I felt as though I was a scholar, and most importantly, the first time I felt as though I belonged. I want to be an active voice on campus and in the classrooms; I want to be a role model to the diverse student body; I want to branch out with the opportunity given by GS; and most of all, I want to grow into the leader I dream to become.
Seventeen years ago, I came bounding into a world of love and laughter. I was the first child, the first grandchild, the first niece, and the primary focus of my entire extended family. Although they were not married, my parents were young and energetic and had every good intention for their new baby girl. I grew up with opportunities for intellectual and spiritual growth, secure in the knowledge that I was loved, free from fear, and confident that my world was close to perfect. And I was the center of a world that had meaning only in terms of its effect on me-- what I could see from a height of three feet and what I could comprehend with the intellect and emotions of a child. This state of innocence persisted through my early teens, but changed dramatically in the spring of my sophomore year of high school. My beloved father was dying of AIDS.
For most people, becoming a parent is one of the greatest moments in their lives. I never understood the true meaning of love until I became a father. Little did I know; I would also learn the tragedy of loss.
Until the twenty-second of March, I thought my parents were happy with each other and that they would be together for the rest of their lives, but that was not the case. I was given no reason to suspect that anything bad was occurring, but when I came home from school that day everything was revealed. My father told me that he had been wanting to speak to me alone. He looked fearful and bit anxious. I knew this conversation was going to be different from every other talk we have had. He started off with, “Please just listen and give me a chance to explain myself before you judge me.” I had nodded
I never would have imagined feeling like an outsider in my own home. Unfortunately I wouldn’t even go as far as considering my current home as “my home.” I live in a house with eight people and two dogs and for some, that might not even be slightly overwhelming, but for me it is. I try to keep my heart open about the situation, but I always end up feeling like I don’t belong. Given the circumstances of my situation, I would say life definitely turned out better than what I initially expected, but I was left feeling like a “stranger in a village” having to live with a family that is nothing like my own.
"Hello! This is Cornwall ER. How may I help you?" The nurse answered the phone call. Like every Friday, I was volunteering in the INOVA Emergency room. It was a very busy day in the ER, where all the room including the triages were full. The rescue squads were coming with one patient after another, and the doctor, PA and nurses were very busy. I looked at the nurse’s face, and she seemed very concerned. That was because it was a trauma case, and the patient was going in a cardiac arrest. The nurses started preparing the trauma room and I assisted them in the process. That was my first time observing a trauma case after I started volunteering in the ER. I was very anxious. After about 10 minutes, the ambulance arrived. Four rescue squad rushed in with the patient. They were using a defibrillator, and the patient was oozing out blood. One member of the squad was covered in blood, and everyone’s face was extremely tensed. The doctor and the nurses rushed in and started assisting the paramedics. I was praying for the trauma patient as I was delivering a blanket to a patient
As a thirteen year old, I became very curious. I knew my parents had their share of issues, but I never understood why. I had lived in Texas my whole life then moved to Chicago, Illinois for my dad’s job when I was nine. Over the three year period of living there, I never saw much of my dad. I knew he loved me,