Narrative for Lifespan Development

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Narrative of Adolescence Years Abstract This paper is a narrative of my adolescent years from twelve to eighteen. I label these years of awkwardness and pain off a hit show from the early nineties called, “The Growing Pains.” Similar to the characters in the show I struggled creating a personal identity and had difficulty blending in with societal norms. As a result I suffered from much insecurity, false conceptions of beauty, and depression. Up until writing this paper I felt these ideologies and feelings were better left in the past. However, I now understand these experiences shape my current beliefs and will affect my identity as a counselor. Therefore I must address these experiences and deal with them emotionally. As I…show more content…
Sizzle, plop! I looked down and saw a ringlet hit the floor. I had burned off a portion of my hair. Oh no! How was I going to look pretty now! I shook my head in disgust. This hadn’t quite turned out how I thought it would. As I reached down to pick up the ringlet I heard my mother yell, “Tristyn are you doing your hair without my permission?” I quickly turned off the stove, blew the remainder hair out of the comb, swiped up the grease, folded the cloth over the comb and tucked everything back under the sink. “No mom! I was just wiping of the stove and accidently turned the eye on. The towel got burnt on the eye, so that’s what you smell.” Jeez that lie came out quickly. It was a good one. I was sure my mother wouldn’t even catch me. I had made it! Yes! However to my surprise my mother was wittier then I thought. And when my father came home I was up for a surprise. “Tristyn, your mom tells me you were straightening your hair. Were you?” I quickly responded, “No.” However he knew the truth and sent me to the basement. As I slowing turned around and began my walk downstairs I started to cry. Why couldn’t my parent’s understand I wanted to look pretty. This wasn’t an act of defiance. It was an attempt to fit in. To be liked. To start my first day in middle school cool, like the other pretty girls. Now I would be punished through a “butt whooping.” My dad told me to turn around, I heard the jingle of the belt
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