My Experience In My Life

In my life I’ve had a lot of ups and downs. I’ve been adopted three times, my father past away when I was nine, and my mom just gave up. My mom and dad weren’t the best of parents. But I still loved them. When I was three a lady named Nicole adopted me and my sister Brittany . By the age of five her best friend Charity adopted me. That is when me and my two sisters were all split up for good. My sister Ashley was adopted by my uncle Gary down in Georgia and Brittany stayed with Nicole.

was a tuesday and I had just gotten out of school. I was nervous and excited and my heart was beating 100 miles per hour. My sister was just born and I was anxious to see her. But I had to wait for my dad to pick me up from my mom’s house. I was taking the week off to spend time with her and to help my dad and his girlfriend with getting her situated at the house. After two hours he got to my house, The car ride was full of talk about the future and what she was gonna be like when she was older. When we arrived at the hospital we rushed down the hall to the room. When we walked in I saw my sister amaya. Her brown silver eyes lit my eyes and heart up. I knew at that moment that she would be my responsibility and I would take care of her with

As a three year old kid, all i could remember was being confused. Like the only way i could express my emotions was through tears. I cried and cried as I sat with my siblings in the back of a cop car, driving off without our parents in sight. I hoped that they knew the detriment that caused me. my brother Dillon and My sister Megan went to live with our Aunt and Uncle’s to stay. My other brother Jeffery went to some all boys house to help his behavior. My Aunt and Uncle were very nice but I still had no idea what was going on. One morning for breakfast, I finally got up the nerve to ask my Aunt Pat about the

My story starts out my verry few years before I started kindergarten. I was a little girl born on April 16, 1998 on a rainy day. My grandma always told me that the entire day it was storming, but the second I was born, it stopped. I was born into a loving family. My mom was a new teacher, my dad a hard working construction worker, so we didn’t have much money as I grew up, but I didn’t care. I had an older brother that always liked to scare me. There was one time that he put on his halloween mask and jumped out from behind the door; I didn’t go

My earliest memories as a reader are limited. You see, I am that student that came to school daily in flight-or-fight mode. My father was an abusive parent, mentally, physically, and sexually. He was also an alcoholic. My years from kindergarten to second grade are vague, with the exceptions of a few prominent memories and feelings of being constantly scared. My year in first grade, my mother made the decision to leave. One night, while my father was out drinking, my mother's co-worker came in a U-haul truck, we loaded up the truck and left. After approximately three weeks into our new lives, my father found us. He would pick us up from our new school, take us to his friend's house and call my mother to let her know he had us. He would have us talk to her and then he would end the call threatening to keep us from her indefinitely. They finally divorced and my mother married her co-worker, Tom, who had helped us leave our father. He bought a home for us, in a stable neighborhood, and I began another new school in second grade.

Life is a series of tests. The test varies by person and it all comes down to how well you take the test that you were given and chose to take. I was given the test of being the first in my family to ever apply for a college education because both my parents never had the opportunity and privilege to attend college due to their family obligations. Finally, I chose to undertake the only sport that could ever emulate the spirit of rugby, swimming, basketball, and wrestling in one: water polo.

December 15th, 2013. Days before Christmas break. I had just came home from my aunt’s house to find my mother puffy eyed with a tear streaked face. She carefully explained to me my father had been arrested for something so abysmal and that I would not be able to see or talk to him legally until the age of 18. I could physically feel my heart shatter in that moment. Never will I be able forget the feeling. How could he do something so terrible? How could he just leave me like that? I cried myself to sleep that night. I missed a whole week of school. Every day it clouded my mind, the only thing I was able to think about .That was the start to the fall of my happy little childhood.

Recently I found myself without a reason to live anymore. I’m not sure when it all started, but four months ago in the room of a hotel, I found myself sitting in a desk, writing a suicidal letter. I didn’t really want to end my life, I simply wanted to get rid of this pain. It was more of an agony what I was dealing with. I had no dreams. I had no ambitions. And I knew that what I was about to do was going to hurt. My future shrank down to this day, these last couple of hours in this hotel room in the middle of nowhere. At this point I didn’t really care, I was living a life that didn’t even belong to me anymore.

My personal life has had many twists and turns that have shaped my life and my view on language as an individual. My life began growing up in a mixed family household: my mother being born in Jordan and moving to the United States when she was young, and my father who has lived in the United States. Growing up in a mixed household I only spoke English and I rarely heard any Arabic in my life. I would only know hear Arabic when I did something wrong or when we were spending time with my mother’s side of the family. While I was very influenced by Arabic culture I was not submerged in the culture so I did not understand all the complexities of Arabic culture in the US. If I grew up in a household where Arabic was spoken regularly (maybe not

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.

Imagine your story becoming the forerunner of someone else’s. Someone you have never met, yet because of one story, he or she found the strength and courage to become a person far greater than ever imagined. A story of unimaginable adventures, lessons, and hardships, this is the story I, Thu Dang, will create for myself and others.

My first semester as a college student is coming to an end. I remember moving in, scared of making friends and starting a new adventure. I remember wandering around like a lost sheep attempting to find the classrooms I would spend the next few months in. All this seems like it happened forever ago, but in reality, it was just three short months ago. Mid-semester, I recall beginning to countdown the weeks left. And now here I am. I made it.

I moved around quite a bit as a child and one move my family and I made was to Federalsburg, Maryland. We lived on a farm in the middle of nowhere and there wasn’t much for me to do. I joined the towns swim team to keep myself entertained and while there, I met a lady and her husband, both of whom are neurologists. I sat and talked with them every chance I could get; I was utterly intrigued by how fascinating the kind of work they did was. The lady, Gina, explained to me that being a neurologist isn’t easy, but satisfaction fills the soul when helping treat a patient. Moreover, she explained how interesting the brain is, “It’s a puzzle waiting to be put together.” I knew then that I wanted to be a neurologist and help put the puzzle pieces together.

Through my entire life, I have been through difficult times that made me reflected on it and depressed. Situations that make your days hard and always they have a big impact on your life. Probably never forget them. I was not born in this country, I have over three years living in Hollister. During the first two years, my life was not easy, especially the first year in town. I was born in Guatemala, a country in Central America. That’s where my life began. Been in a different country is hard, learn its language is difficult, its culture and try to belong to it.

My life is a sailboat sailing through the sea. It is a sailboat because sometimes life can be an easy breeze and it feels like you have no worries and nothing else matters except the moment you are currently in. Although sometimes life can almost feel like you’re in the middle of a terrible storm in the ocean ; everything seems to be going wrong in every way. Once you finally get out of the storm, the sun starts peeking through the clouds; the waves become calm again and the cooling sea breeze hits your face ever so softly. Knowing that everything is going to be okay.