My Experience In My Life

“Tough times don’t last, tough people do” - Julian Edelman. Throughout life I have overcome obstacles that seemed almost impossible to conquer. Crying, fighting, searching for a way out of my life that has haunted me for eighteen years. I thought I would never live to see this age, but here I am today, standing tall and proud amongst others everyday. The lessons I have learned and experiences I have gone through have built my character, gave meaning to my visits back home, and have helped me find ways to keep myself busy with free time.

As I boarded the charter bus to my second year of Unidiversity (an annual summer youth trip in Tennessee), I could not begin to imagine the person I would become as a result of this trip. As a teenager going into my last year of middle school, I was determined to have the time of my life. I wanted to have fun, make a better connection with friends, play games, laugh, and really enjoy the time with my leaders and friends. At this point in my life, I was hiding a dark secret that only two other people in my life knew about; I was bisexual. As an almost eighth grader, I was comfortable with my sexuality, but I didn’t know how to explain it to others, and although I knew my friends would accept me for who I was, something was holding me back. I would walk around hiding behind I mask that I thought was permanent, a mask that told everyone that I was one thing, when I was really another. Little did I know that I was about to rip off the mask, and show my true self for the first time in my life.

Growing up I had a good life. I lived with my brother, sister, and both of my parents together as a good family. My parents really taught me how to be respectful and responsible. I was lucky to have them as good influences in my life. I am not one to disrespect anyone unless they have done me wrong. I grew up caring about school and always wanting to perform well and anything that I do. There were many challenges and events that helped me become the person I am today. One of which is when my family and I had the opportunity to visit our home country, Zimbabwe.

It’s hard to imagine what your life will be like, where it’ll take you, or what the future holds for you. If you told 13-year-old me that I was going to be on the path of 8 more years of schooling after high school, working towards a medical degree, I probably would have laughed and repeated the line that I have said so many times: “I’ll never become a doctor...that’s so gross”. At that age, my dream was to become a pastry-chef in a patisserie somewhere in the south of France, living life peacefully. I thought that I could never follow in my parents’ footsteps, sacrificing the best years of my life for the all-consuming difficulty and intensity of the pre-med track. And it is very intense. If you ever come across a pre-med student, they’re likely stumbling over the clutter of their biology textbooks and boundless research papers, frantically searching for the cure for some disease that no one can actually pronounce, all the while cramming for the MCAT that’s in 912 days because they have not yet memorized every bone in the human body. I’d like to dissociate myself from that stereotype. While most aspiring pre-med students were worrying about medical school acceptance rates, I was dreading my dad’s weekly case-study reading that he absolutely had to have my opinion on. Not to mention the countless visits I made to my mother’s work Christmas parties, where the nurses were constantly dressed in their scrubs, and I mean constantly, and the food unmistakably came straight from

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

Traveling on an airplane was crucial the way it moved me felt like I was flooding on could. Seeing the ground, the oceans, rivers, mountains, and beautiful green trees. Coming to America all alone was like a whole world turning upside down, it was a different world and new to everything, I didn’t know how to express myself and was hard to understand people, experience new knowledge and trying to put up with it for the moment.

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?

“Poke the porcupine! Poke, poke poke,” yelled my brother, Matt, as he jabbed his fingers into my ribcage. This game made the three hour car ride to Maine feel like eternity as the middle seat had my name engraved upon it (one of the perks of being the youngest child). My sister stared at the alluring landscape as we drove down the street, welcoming my family to Nana’s house. Pulling into the driveway, I am greeted by Nana, Papa, and Uncle Dave. My siblings and I immediately explored the backyard like adventurers in a new habitat. I traveled down a scenic path, welcoming me to the salty Atlantic. I paddled as hard as I can to keep up with my Nana and Papa kayaking. My whole family then took a hike, screaming every time we saw an apple tree. As we returned to the house, I washed my grass stained shirt and checked my body for ticks as I smelt savory lobster cooking. Crunching on corn and devouring my butter soaked lobster, I looked up at the table and saw a happy family: laughing about our hiking adventures and enjoying time together. As a first grader, I was thrilled to practice my reading skills to my Nana as she corrected my mispronunciations. Maine was a sweet escape, and I never wanted to leave. The only worries in my mind were the grass stains on my shirt, and removing the tick cemented in my leg.

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.

It was the beginning of summer after my seventh grade year. The sun was blazing, the birds were chirping, and I felt an overwhelming sense of freedom. Life seemed great, until the next day when I was bored out of my mind and had nothing to do. During middle school, I followed my brother, Isaac, around like a mime. Whatever he did I would aspire to do the same. This was no different when, bored out of my mind, I found out my brother was going to go disc golfing with the neighbor friends. When Isaac asked me if I wanted to come with, I jumped up, ran to my bike, and told him I was ready whenever he was. I had never heard of what “disc golf” was, but I knew that since my brother was doing it, it was cool! So I followed Isaac and the neighbor friends all the way to Northside Park, sweating immensely from the summer heat and from how quickly I was biking. On the first hole, Isaac gave me my own disc to borrow for the round. This sport was completely foreign to me, so I threw my disc as hard as I possibly could, in an attempt to impress Isaac and his friends. Not only did the disc go absolutely nowhere, but I threw it so high that the wind actually pushed it backwards. I felt humiliated as everybody laughed at me. Isaac, however, came up to me and explained to me how discs fly and the proper way to throw. Each hole, I could visibly see my disc traveling further than the previous hole. Every time Isaac saw me doing something improperly, he would correct me and tell me how to fix

Skrt Skrt! Dust blew through the air as Kiley and I sat in complete silence. Looking around in awe, I realized we finally settled somewhere other than the gravel road we started on.. Smashed and unrecognizable, the tahoe rested in the ditch next to my dad’s cornfield. What just happened? I vaguely remember my mom’s voice telling me in the past that parents set rules for a reason and although kids usually ignore not like them, they provide boundaries to ensure everyone's best interest. Cold and scared, I sat there shivering. I concluded that in this situation if I had listened to my mom, I believe I could have prevented this trouble. I saw my life at fourteen years old flash before me on November 19, 2016. This experience will live in my memory forever.

When I was younger, I oftentimes found myself with a pencil and paper in my hand. I would leave a multitude of marks on the paper in some form or fashion, whether it be scribbles, unvarying words and sentences, my name, or the names of family members. Growing older, I would find myself writing more than enough when it came to essays. I could never bring myself to leave out any details and I rarely used simple sentences. Originally, I assumed it was because I wanted the validation of my parents and teachers, but it was something else I had yet to realize. I liked writing and I realized it one day when I was in my room, listening to music.

I started this experience in this class with my luggage which was empty of experience, but now, when this journey is almost close to an end, I am thankful for having had the chance of being part of such amazing class and course. I considered every single class as a “stop” where I had the chance to visit something new and get something which could remain in my memories and could be useful for my personal life. From the very first class I realized that this could have been a different experience. I agree when Lily, in the first class told us that using slides and books cannot be considered an experience from which you can take something to grow as a person. Therefore, from the beginning of this journey I took the opportunity to challenge myself and to especially defeat my fears. In fact, throughout my entire life I have been very emotional and rarely I was taking an initiative when I have to speak in public. When first I candidate for the CFO role, I was afraid of talking in front of everyone, but then I took this occasion to give a turnaround to this experience and in the end, I managed also to be elected. During my speech, I used a particular sentence “life is no made of grades, but of experiences” and I guess this class reflected perfectly what I was expecting. I was not expecting a grade from it, but rather to get something which possibly could help me throughout all my experience here in San Diego, but also for my life and working career. Working in the board was an

It was the last weekend of my summer vacation before entering senior year. All my life I have been spending my summer vacations in my beach house on Contadora Island, a small paradise off the coast of Panama. Everything on the island is joy and serenity. It had almost become a tradition for all the island residents to go spend the last weekend there. I had a very close friend who also had a house in Contadora. He was the most caring and gentle person I have ever met. I would regard him as an example of how people should treat others. He was always so considerate and friendly with everyone, no matter what. These were qualities that I did not see in myself at the time. Whenever I had the opportunity, I would criticize someone for not being or looking a certain way. Or I would not treat people with the corresponded respect they deserved. These were all things that Walter would try to change in me, with his caring and humble personality, but my arrogance would keep persisting. When it came to the formation of his professional self in academics, he always strived for more. He was the most ambitious, while I was a conformist with mediocre results. Coming back to this particular weekend, Walter had opted to spend it camping at a reservoir with another group of friends. The weekend on the island was very fun, even though he had not come. I woke up early on Sunday, it was February 28, 2016. Little did I know that this day would mark the rest of my days. I woke up early to enjoy my

My life was seemingly perfect. Both of my siblings went to college to pursue their dreams. My mom worked hard and supported me through anything I did and my dad served in the National Guard. My dad retired from the National Guard just a fews years ago after serving for 27 years. When I was growing up he was my hero. We lived in a big house with endless acres for us to ride my dirt bikes, go four wheeling, and hunt on. I loved to be outdoors and active whenever I could. It was a place where I could be myself and run free. The best part of being outdoors though, was being able to share it with family. My favorite part was our own little farm. It was the most exciting thing a child could have in his backyard. We owned five beef cows and