My Experience In My Life

I went through a rough time period in my life. Sometimes I’m afraid to talk about it, as if I can’t accept the fact that I actually went through it. During these difficult years of my life, I suffered severely from Depression and Anxiety. I had multiple panic attacks in a day and I got to the point of having suicidal thoughts. I felt numb; everyday was a blur to me. I sincerely thought I wouldn’t make it to the age of fifteen.

Everybody has a mountain to overcome and it's your choice whether you stay stuck in the valley or rise to the peak. An in my life I've had a mountain that not only I have overcome but, learned valuable lessons along the way. The crux of my struggle was the splitting of my parents which put me through some emotional instability. This, in hindsight, was the best for me as well as my parents but being young and selfish I seen it as my world splitting in half.

“Are you ready to go?” my grandmother asked. Before I could answer, my brother and sister ran up to greet her. Afterwards around two or three hours, me and two of my younger siblings left to Columbia with my grandmother. But, my parents and my youngest sister left a few hours after we had left. After an exhausting and strenuous three hour car ride, we finally reached my grandmother’s house. A few days later, my whole family and my grandmother went out looking for houses to buy. My family saw numerous houses, some I enjoyed better than others. One house in particular caught my eye. Not the house itself, but the fact that we would have to be homeschooled instead of going to a whole new school. Being six and all, I was dreading the fact that I would have to go to school. Think about it, I was a six year-old that left my school and all of my friends in Georgia that had to go to a whole other school in South Carolina with no friends or even people that I knew. Sadly, my parents didn’t end up buying that particular house. Although, I think that my parents wanted me to go to school. The house my parents chose needed some work and style. The room that I sleep in now used to be an appalling shade of brown. The playroom used to

As I grow older and live new experiences, I realize how my childhood and God led me to the circumstance I am now, which is my last semester of nursing school. I come to appreciate my mother’s hard work to get me through school as well as through life. Growing up in a low-income family in Los Angeles, California with a dad who was a full-time alcoholic and drug addict, was not a good circumstance to grow up. My mother did not speak English or had a job and believed that a married woman is to fully depend on her husband. There were times when my 2 siblings and I had nothing to eat since my dad barely came home with money after spending it all on alcohol and drugs. Due to this living situation and the fact that I was the oldest child, I felt the strong responsibility to drop out of school once I was old enough to work. Education was not an option in my future. Since we didn’t have much money, my mom signed my siblings and me to free afterschool programs at my local Catholic church, so we could learn more about our religion and the importance of God in our lives. I remember my excitement to wake up early Sunday mornings to get ready for mass, even though it took 2 bus routes to get to church. I learned from nuns and priests the importance of caring for others as if they were my own family because everyone deserves the same type of care. Caring was something I learned through religion, and not something I was born knowing. As a way to start fresh, my dad decided to move us to

Almost a year ago, August 2016 was one of the most exciting times of My life. I was a recent high school graduate and that past March I had been accepted into the Faculty of Education at the UoW in Manitoba. So, august was a busy month for me, basically everyday I hung out with my friends watched every single YouTube video related to college, and began packing up my room for the move from Dartmouth NS to Winnipeg MB. I had previously already picked my courses for the 2016/1017 year and now I was looking up textbooks and looking up my professors on rate my professor .com, highly recommend. my whole senior year of HS I was so excited to be moving and taking this new ‘chapter in my life. September couldn’t come fast enough. The end of august came and I had packed up and left my home, and my family. The journey to Winnipeg was thrilling and tiring, but I landed safely and I walked out to my auntie Robyn waiting for me, she had come with her sister, my Auntie Leslie (more on her later *eye roll emoji*) they helped me load the truck and off we were to see my new home, well my room. I was about to begin my dorm life, in Lions Manor floor 4. My aunts helped me unpack something’s, but later left me to settle. Which was fine by me, I was so excited to make this room mine. I had posters and pictures and cute bedding. It only took me the rest of the week to fully unpack and mesh with how small my room was.

Volunteering is an important part of my life, so Tulane’s emphasis on community engagement is one reason we’re a good fit. I actually had the opportunity to travel to New Orleans in the summer of 2016 through the Rustic Pathways organization to help rebuild the city from Hurricane Katrina. Even though I technically spent two weeks aiding others, the experience helped me more than I ever imagined it would. Not only did I immerse myself in the vibrant culture of New Orleans, but I learned firsthand about other lifestyles by meeting new people from all around the globe. We celebrated Bastille Day with Romane from Paris, and comforted her and Thomas when the Nice attack shook their nation. As we mudded the walls of ‘our house’ in the Lower 9th Ward, I shared stories about celebrity sightings with Emma from Rochester, and learned from Aidan that the stereotype of rain in Seattle is true. I’m so grateful that I had the opportunity to meet people who would become some of my closest friends while helping those that have been displaced. I was moved by the sense of connectedness that has emerged in New Orleans since the natural disaster. We worked with the Saint Bernard’s Project to bring families back home after ten years. The organization holds welcome home parties for the families once their house is finished, and our group attended the festivities for an older couple that had been living with their adult children since the disaster. Enjoying cake and conversing with the

EVErY FAmILY hAS ThEIr STorY, ALL with aspects that brings them together or drive them apart. I come from a Mexican family, where family is the only thing we know. We share each other’s pain and misery and we rejoice for our miracles. We learn and grow through each other.

Unfortunately, it started Tuesday, May 10th, 2011, usually I go by my parent’s house before work and have coffee and donuts with my mother while we chit-chat about current events about our lives, but, I was running late for work that day.  Afterward, at 10:45 a.m. I started calling my mother’s cell phone but she never answered. At noon, my phone rang and I assumed it was her, but, it was my father. The minute I answered the phone I knew something was wrong. He uttered, “your mother and sister had an accident and the police officer said we must arrive at the hospital right away.” I could feel my gut at that very moment, my life just fell apart. I abandoned work and met up with my father at his house and we rode together, soon after we arrived a Florida Highway Patrol called us inside a small room and asked if we could identify the driver license. Regrettably, it was my mother, I could feel the tears flowing down my cheeks forming streams, my breathing was rapid and the walls were closing. The officer then stood up and gave us his sincere apologies. He indicated that my mother was pronounced dead at arrival and that my sister was inside the trauma part inside the hospital that the doctors were working with her now. I began screaming no and felt my father wrap his arms around my shoulders. Nonetheless, he did his best staying calm and strong for us. Next, we asked if we could visit my sister, but, he said he would ask the doctor and left the room. However, moments went by, I

On June 10, 2006, I woke up like any other Saturday, expecting it to be a good day of baseball. Little did I know, how much my life was about to be turned upside down. Getting the news that my father had passed away from a heart attack, at the age of 30, really took a toll on my family and I. I couldn’t let that stop me from having a successful life because he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. That meant it was time for me to step up to the plate and be a man, be a role model for my little brother, and also be the shoulder that my mom could lean on. Even though I was only 10 years old and in the fifth grade, I really grew up and matured since that day.

On the night of April 7, 1997, my seven-year-old body flew from the backseat of a Nissan Sentra and crashed through the front passenger window onto the roadway of Old Town, Staten Island. I woke up on a hospital stretcher in pain and perplexed. My eyes were filled with shattered glass. I had no mobility in either of my arms; my right arm was wrapped in gauze and plaster; and my left arm had an IV in it. Two days later I was informed of the full extent of my injuries. I shouted at my nurse, “But how will I eat, write, shower, and how will I use the bathroom? What about my hair? How will I put on my clothes?

It was my junior year on a regular Thursday afternoon in my social studies class. Or I thought it was a regular day. I had a boyfriend at the time and I was in love. Or so I thought. He would always walk me to my classes and be there when I needed him to be. So this day, I woke up to the sun shining through my window and the birds singing a song. It was going to be a good day. I got dressed and went to the bus stop, because I wasn’t driving at the time, and waited for the bus and got on. I arrived at school about five minutes after I got on the bus because I did not live that far away from my High School.

The day was quiet, like it usually was. A melancholy day where all colors just seem to blind itself. To see space the way it was it; it was surreal. Time dilation, the world walked just a bit slower than me. Well, I was always like. Hmm you have that feeling like you are sitting in the waiting room? Yeah it like that, but with my whole life. To be honest, it seem to be a blur, rushing blushing, flashing in my mind; one idea bounces to the next and goes to another. That would be all fine and dandy if my mind didn’t wander off into a place of disappearing. I don’t fear death, I fear myself. Well before I get into I might as well tell you how I got into this interesting state. I was born in Virginia, But I moved to South Dakota when I was relatively very young. I have no brothers, no sisters neither. I learned early on that my life was fated to be alone from the very beginning. I was apart of a twin but my identical twin sister, was announced stillborn few minutes after I was born. I still have thoughts up to this day of what could she be, eh I know that unhealthy, but hey its natural,. But soon after that my mom a beautiful, enchanting women with crystal blue eyes, and golden blonde hair ran away with another man, she was young and had her whole life ahead of her, about the age of 26, and had no ring chain to hold her down. I don’t blame her the man she ran off with was more handsome, richer, and actually loved her. My father on the other hand was a repulsive drunk that, would

I grew up in a small rural town called Ore City. In the middle of East Texas where no one would find it unless they searched. Growing up my mother ran a daycare out of the house we lived in. This meant that I knew all the kids in my neighborhood, and later the district that I would spend my childhood with. I went to Ore City ISD from kindergarten, to 8th grade. I was used to the same people in the same area for 9 years of my childhood. Around the summer of 8th grade my parents had gotten a divorce and my mother took me and my siblings with her to Cadiz, Ohio, to find a job on the pipeline. I moved from a small 2A school in Texas, to an enormous 5A school up north. The school had two-stories and six different grade levels in one building. After months of making connections, learning the ways of this new place, and even a new love interest, my mother decided it was time to go back to Texas. We returned and I had to cut ties with my new life, all the people I met, and the things they taught me. Upon my return to Ore City the friends I had grown up with my entire left felt betrayed that I had spent a semester up north. I had lost all of my newly met friends, and also the friendships I spent my childhood creating. And even after all the emotional and mental turmoil of relearning the mannerisms of my hometown and

I don't consider myself a Good Samaritan or even a role model but I do take 5 day out of my life in a whole year to help kids with many types of disabilities including my little sister. Every year I volunteer at Kamp Dovetail in June, we sleep in a tent every night outside in the blistering heat and unpredictable weather. Every day we get up at 7 am and start our day off with breakfast, which many different sponsor donate, we then proceed to group time where we talk about our fun filled activities for the day. Some of the activities include arts and crafts, fishing, boating, horseback riding, recreation, bouncy house, mini golfing, and the most popular of all swimming. For many kids this week is the only week that they can experience some of these activities because not all of the children have excellent home lives so we all strive to make this the best week that they'll always remember and want to return next year. Even though we try to do our best to control every situation to have the best possible outcome, we can't control the weather. I have been volunteering for five years and every year we would have to evacuate to the nearest school because of a huge thunderstorm that would flood the whole camp site. Normally we can watch the radar and pack up before the storm hits however, one year that wasn't the case.

When I look at how different our lives were five months ago so many things run through my mind, “What could we have done differently?” “What could I have done differently?” The week of finals before the end of my junior year I wondered if bad things really do happen to good people, or if good people do bad things that put them into bad places.