Personal Narrative Analysis

Throughout the past year I went through a great deal of undertakings that caused me to become more experienced with my skills and how to overcome various challenges. These really built up my character and the way I am today. In all aspects, this past year consisted of going to Killington, Vermont, my brother going into the Air Force, meeting him in Texas for his graduation of basic training, completing a double backflip on a trampoline, landing a front flip on flat ground, accomplishment of a 2 ½ front flip on a diving board, getting 2nd at leagues, and competing in districts. All of these activities have advanced me in a skill or challenged me to an extent.

Kevin and I stepped into a whole new world in the fall of 2009. We began our degree program at Emmanuel School of Religion, which is now called Emmanuel Christian Seminary. We were working on our Masters of Arts and Religion. I was excited and nervous about going back to college. Our first day was terrifying. Kevin and I attended orientation the week prior to classes starting. There was a definite realization this academic program was going to be a challenge. However, I wanted a challenge. On the first day of class, we started with Greek. Our professor was Dr. Marwede. He opened the class with a test. He came over to my chair first and handed me a paper with a list of Greek words on it. My immediate reaction was shock, which Dr. Marwede realized I was overwhelmed by the look on my face. He told the class we could take it home as homework. Many of the students in the Greek class had previous experience with Greek; however, Kevin and I had no knowledge at all. We were overwhelmed. We were assigned five chapters and told to return the next day for a quiz with our homework.

I am forty four years old with three children and a wonderful husband. I grew up in Oklahoma and later moved to Kansas, and then Arizona where I finished my degree is Political Science at Arizona State University. My career goals were to attend law school after undergrad, so that I could be an advocate for children that were suffering serious injustices back then, and sadly they still seem to be suffering those injustices today.

I'm a 25 year old female and these events happened to me between the years 2001 through 2003. I use to live in the suburbs in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma with my mom, dad, younger sister, aunt(mom's sister), and my dog.

A gentleman in his mid sixties was lying on the operating table. "You can rest outside if you want", said the cardiac surgeon while looking into my eyes. Preoccupied with the patient's picture before anesthesia, I struggled to swallow my worries and fulfill my promise to him to stay close throughout the operation. It was not much time until the potassium mixture was infused and the heart was sucked out of spirit. Over the next two hours, my mind and body were stretched to their limits. Despite being captivated by the precision with which the staff manipulated the grafts with the coronary arteries, I wasn't able to break the countless thoughts and apprehensions that riddled my head. As the blood was re-pumped into the heart, the flat line on

On Saturday, September 5th, myself and a few other coworkers had our personal cars parked on the Dollar Thrifty lot and was told to go and park at the employee lot at Hertz. Dana approached and confronted me about my car. The way I was addressed by her made me feel demeaned. Her tone was elevated, talking to me as if I was a child being scolded.  A child like the one she had in the passenger seat when I was confronted. She told me to move my car when my coworker came to relieve me. My response to her was okay. She stayed there for a minute than asked me had she made herself clear, again talking to me like a child. My response was " I heard you". She continued and asked if it was a problem. Again, my response was "I

I wasn't expecting freshman year to go by as fast as it did, it all went by in a blur and if I could go back and redo it all over again, I would. Words can not describe how ashamed, and how deeply I regret jeopardizing my academic future. Before freshman year I had lived unexposed to the world in Amish county, Lancaster Pennsylvania, a small religious farmers town. When I graduated high school I had my life together; I was going to attend a great university, pursue a career in communications , and move to the city of my dreams.

A reoccurring circumstance in my life that I have been apart of for the last couple of years is competing on a cross-country team. For me, running is both exercise and a metaphor. Running day after day, piling up the races, bit-by-bit I raise the bar, and by clearing each level I elevate myself. At least that’s why I’ve put in the effort day after day: to raise my own level. Racing for me hasn’t always been this crystal clear. When I first started running there were the wind sprints, suicides, mile runs, max-out days, and the months of conditioning that made me wonder why as athletes we keep giving a 110 percent day in and day out.

Back when I still wore pigtails, I remember always feeling like an afterthought by my parents. I understood why, and it was justifiable. Since I was the eldest, and my younger brother was put on the autism spectrum, I knew I had to grow up extra quick, for Father always worked and Mother had her plate full, trying to raise us. I would do my chores without being asked and do my homework without needing help, just so Mother could have one less child to worry about. My brother, however, had to have everything done for him. He even needed Mother to brush his pearly whites for him. It was just one more duty to add to the infinite list of responsibilities Mother had to do for my brother.

The moment I laid eyes on that place, I knew that would regret ever coming here in the first place. It was a hot June in the summer of 2015, and even hotter in the southern state of Alabama. I had arrived at Marion Military Institute, my home for the next dreaded two weeks which seemed to be hurling at me faster than ever before. I was still a kid then. And I know what you must be thinking, “How can someone turn from a kid to an adult in just two weeks?” Well, that answer takes a lot more than just words on a paper to explain to someone. You would have to experience it, the heat, the screaming Marine Core drill instructor, the temptation to give up, all of it.

Your existence, which includes never having experienced the negative effects of transformation is more than ideal. Conversely, despite the sector, previous colleagues and I have resorted to fear and anxiety as it relates to impending job loss. None the less, any anxiety or depression was misplaced. Moreover, in most instances each transformation exhibited successful outcomes, and later proved to be assets to the prospective organizations, and to the members forced to utilize any new procedures.

As a 16 year old young man, when I think about responding to a writing prompt asking me to describe an event that I consider a launch pad towards gaining maturation, the first things that should come to my mind are getting my first job, graduating from high school, or being accepted into the college of my choice. This was not the case for me. The event that I feel has marked my transition from childhood to manhood would be the conversation that my mother had with me after the shooting death of Trayvon Martin.

I have always loved school, from my first day of kindergarden to my first day of high school and almost everyday in between. I always excelled in school, even though I moved around a lot. I had already been to four different elementary schools by the time I was in the fourth grade, and one more for half a year in sixth grade. I had a rough childhood aside from all of the moving. Growing up my life was never really normal. I had two moms, which nowadays isn’t that big of a deal, but 15 years ago it was. My life was fairly good until I was about five or six when my moms got a divorce. At the time I didn't know it but it was at that point that my life started to change forever. After the divorce my parents went to court for custody and one of

I have a different adventure with communication than anyone else I know. I was not gifted with the wonderful ability to be able to speak. The connection from my brain that told my tongue what to do when I wanted to speak did not function correctly. This made my childhood and middle ages very frustrating. I was told I would never benchmark in third grade and that I should start learning sign language because I would never learn how to speak correctly. Thankfully, my mom turned down that idea and kept me in all of my speech therapy classes. People wonder how I made it this far and I’m about to tell the reader exactly how I was able to communicate with very minimal speech.

Humans are social creatures filled with emotion. We are surrounded by a world full of communication, that you are forced to adapt to. We have to have one another to survive. All of us are there for the better; and you can not go through life by yourself.