Personal Narrative: A Personal Essay

“My mamma ate bad. My grandma ate bad. Now, the food was good, so good, but you know it’s like soul food, so it’s not that good for you. My mamma had diabetes too. I’m sure grandma did too, but she didn’t go to the doctor ever. She couldn’t afford it. I can though. That’s how I found out I had diabetes. I got it from them, of that I am sure.”

Sweat glistened on my face and the uncomfortable sparring gear only made the searing heat even more unbearable. I was about to start my three-on-one sparring drill for my Taekwondo first degree black belt test where I had to defend myself against 3 opponents. I struggled to cope with their attacks and keep moving at the same time, and barely a minute in I was already exhausted. I had failed.

On November 5th 2017 I responded with Deputy Parker to 6906 Old Tom Box Road regarding a shots fired call. As I pulled into the driveway of the residence I noticed someone pulling the curtains closed. I approached the front door and Deputy Parker approached the side door. I knocked on the front door and announced loudly “Sheriff’s Office”. I received no answer but I could hear what sounded like someone moving around in the home.

The day we found out that my grandma was battling cancer for the second time, my parents didn't want me to visit him in the condition that he was in. but finally I told them that I just need to see my grandpa and they were right, I didn't want to see him like that, they had him strapped to a hospital bed, and wouldn't let him up. You could tell my grandpa didn't want to be in there he couldn't even speak but by the way he was grabbing us in the sense of “let me leave”. I just knew this was bad. S few weeks later they sent him to a hospital home, and we went to go visit him he was doing GREAT he was walking talking eyes open and watching the Sunday night football like he usually did, cowboys were his favorite team. I was so happy for him and me that I wasn't going to lose him and I knew in my heart that he was getting better.

This piece of writing was something I had started in my journal and decided to make it into a story. It started off really well but I feel like I rushed it too much. I didn't use as much detail as I could have. I based the story off of a Jewish book that I really enjoy. I used a lot of good detail, words and imagery at the beginning but I feel like it went downhill when I needed it hurry and get it done. If I were to take my time like I did at the beginning of the story it would have been a greater outcome than what the outcome really was. This piece of writing is something I would definitely consider redoing and making it a whole lot better than it is now. I think I should have spent more time writing the paper and less time worrying about

Let me tell you why im awesome. I’m awesome because I’m athletic. I’m a great team-mate and I also run fast. When I was younger I wanted to be a professional soccer player because I just loved that sport so much. And because of that dream it made me athletic. It gave me the ability to run fast, but best of all it made me a great team mate.

I have been writing since I started school, and I have always been passionate about writing. When I was young, my parents couldn't afford books, so I decided to write my own. I wrote about dolphins, and I would read my stories to my parents, and they always made me feel proud to be a writer. They made me feel like one day I would be the best writer ever.

Shane and I grew up in the same town and had mutual friends. I never knew him personally, but always knew of him until we met a year and a half ago at Manhattan Christian College. It’s a very small campus, so everyone knows everyone. An even smaller group of us started becoming very close friends. I went through a very rough season of anxiety and depression after experiencing a large among of tragedy, which is when Shane and I became even closer friends. He had experienced very similar issues in his life and struggled with the same anxieties I did. I am very thankful for the relationship we have, we are strictly platonic, which is why we can be such close friends. We

A time where I felt as if I had messed up really bad was when I was a sophomore, I was in the softball team and it was my first game of the season. I had never played softball before in my entire life so I was pretty nervous. I practiced everyday but to be in an actual game was really nerve racking for me but I tried my best to keep my cool. During the game, my coach calls me in to play right field. It went fine because I felt as if I didn’t do much, none of the girls were batting the ball to my direction so I was just pretty much standing or rather in the position I was supposed to be in and waiting. It was time to switch so now our team had to bat, I waited to see if I would be next and to my surprise, I was. As I went up I felt my legs

Writing is something that I find relaxing and freeing. Whether I am overwhelmed with school, giddy about an upcoming trip, or just want to create a story- I always turn to writing. My mind becomes clear of the thoughts that were present before I picked up a pen and paper, and I feel as though I can create more than words… I am capable of creating a piece of art for those around me to read. However, I am feel like I cannot do this without silence and the serenity that is found only when I am alone at night.

So there I was a fifteen year old, one ear pressed to the ice cold artificial wood of my bedroom door listening to my mother’s angry, drunken rant. “I just don’t understand why all he ever wants to do is play on his stupid little satan box upstairs. Why can’t he be like a normal boy and want to do something manly like football!!!” I sat there and continued to listen, like an assassin in night waiting to strike, to every disgusted word that erupted from my mother’s alcohol engorged mouth as she explained to my aunt over the phone how she thought of me as a pitiful disgrace. After the longest thirty minutes of my life, I had finally had enough, I kicked open my bedroom door with such force that it came off its hinges and hit the ground with a loud thud. My mother instantly turned to face me, a look of undeniable terror on her face. She knew that I heard every single poisonous word that oozed from her mouth. She knew what

Tears streamed down my face as I watched my older brothers drag my beloved dolls behind their bikes. My four year old body was full of hate, and I thought to myself, I will never forgive them. Don’t get me wrong, family is the most important thing in my life. All my earliest memories revolve around my siblings, cousins, and all other family members. Being the youngest in my family, I looked up to my older siblings. Literally.

As my two-week camping trip in Cherokee, North Carolina, came to an end, I had mixed emotions about summer vacation ending. My party of six, made up of my parents, two younger brothers and a close friend, packed up the cars; and I was still somehow excited to go home. I missed the little comforts and convenience of a real home, and my dog who I left in the care of my grandmother. But I would miss so much about the campsite I called home for some time.

I know myself. Parents say they know you best but sometimes they can hardly tell. Kids can keep secrets, and especially teenagers. You can adjust yourself to look, act, and believe in certain ways. You can act like you’re perfectly fine like there’s nothing wrong with you. That’s what I try to do. Back in sophomore year, I hinted at my parents I had anxiety. Dad seemed like he wanted to take me to a therapist. He seemed supportive, interested in it. There I lay, wasting away in my room daily, certain I will go see a therapist to see if there’s anything wrong with me at all. Then Junior year came up.

“No Bervelynn, you cannot do this and certainly not go to that”. I would hear this phrase more than my name it was unbelievable. My parents were much overprotected they always confined me to the house. That was their way of preventing me from interacting with society and the real world. They were terrified at the thought of me having sex, doing drugs, getting killed, or ending up pregnant. They wanted me to be away from negativity as much as possible. But at that point in time, I had no idea what any of those things were. I was just a young girl, who dreamed of becoming a cheerleader, going to basketball games and Disney world. No matter how much I wished to go out and do guileless things it was always a NO. I often found myself to be confused and dispirited. I became very insecure and unsure of myself. I no longer knew who I was; therefore, I started trying to be just like other people. I dressed how they dressed, spoke how they spoke, and acted how they acted. I tried so hard to fit in. I had this crazy thought that maybe this will make me feel “superior” to other, but boy was I wrong! Unpleasant things kept happening to me because of it. My peers started to realize that I was putting up an act. I started getting brutally bullied daily. A girl even pulled my wig off once, in front of everyone, because they knew that my hair was fake. I had never been so embarrassed in my whole life. After that incident, I began lying to my parents and started skipping school. It