Personal Narrative: A Personal Experience In An Abusive Relationship

was present at home, my mother attempted to keep the peace. Emotionally, he would erupt in angry over the slightest things. At times, my father subjected violence against my brother and I. He physically abused my brother and emotional abused me. I recall that one night, when I was seven years old, my brother and father were arguing. In a rage, my father hit my brother repeatedly and once he was done hitting him. He threw my brother outside on the porch. I remember that night because it was freezing. My brother had no shirt on and my father locked him out. I cried and so did my mother. After ten minutes of my father blocking the door he eventually walked away and unlocked the door.

An interesting event occurred early Saturday morning near the town square in Pittman County. A tractor tire exploded and blew a man onto the top of a Standard Oil sign. The man’s name will be kept anonymous to protect his identity, and we are happy to report that the man is alive, although he attained some injuries, and it is possible that he will have permanent damage to his hearing.

It was a bright sunny summer day when I stepped outside of my friend’s house. As I hopped on my bike and began to pedal, harder than usual, I began to groan as I peered down at my front tire and saw that it was flat. So then I jumped off my bike and grumply began to walk home. As I was walking I noticed something unusual, two men in suits, one in front and one behind me and as I began to think of a way out of this terrifying mess, a black van pulled drove up screeching against the side of the curb with its wheels and before I knew it the same men following me had put a black bag over my head and they tossed me in the van.

People often think of language as a connector, something that brings people together by helping them share experiences, feelings, ideas, etc. We, however, are interested in how language sets people apart. Start with the peculiarities of your own personal language—the voice you use when speaking most intimately to yourself, the vocabulary that spills out when you're startled, or special phrases and gestures that no one else seems to use or even understand—and tell us how your language makes you unique. You may want to think about subtle riffs or idiosyncrasies based on cadence, rhythm, rhyme, or (mis)pronunciation.

My life flashed before my eyes. I knew I couldn’t stop. I froze. I crashed. I woke up. On March 13th 2011, I had an accident. I woke up in a pool of crimson mud and snow, and I could see my right cheek in the corner of my eye. I slid my tongue across my teeth, and cringed in fear as I felt the abnormality inside my mouth: every tooth right of my nose was misshapen, and my front teeth were halfway out of my mouth. I was missing another. I thought God had tried to kill me, and I was irrational. I couldn’t move. I had slid off the ice covered ski path and off into the woods.

I fell asleep just in the middle of the hallway hoping that all of this was just a dream. I woke up feeling like i had been drinking all last night. I hated myself for killing an innocent cat. I went outside because i felt like i had to because i was so disgusted. I threw up all my insides so i went back inside to ask for treats to possibly to feel better about myself and this whole situation. I went over to the main room to beg to fill my empty stomach. The mom got up and fed me a decent amount of treats. This made me feel great for the time being totally forgetting about the cat and the whole fight. Once i ate them all i felt that sadness and sickness that was lurking in me still. I figure that the treats were a temporary cure for the disease

If you really want to know about my traumatic childhood, it all started in a small town outside of Philadelphia. I was around 9-10 years old at the time and we lived about right in the middle of a forest. There was no clear patch of open field to be found. You would think there were many animals around too, for living in the middle of nowhere, but the coolest thing you 'd find was a lost deer now and then. Anyway, the incident took place on a cool night in the middle of July. I was in my crappy two-story house in bed. I remembered the wind to be wild that night and of course the walls of the house were as thin as paper, so it sounded like a tornado was forming outside. I was having trouble falling asleep, so I went to get a glass of milk.

I love to solve puzzles. From jigsaws to crosswords to brainteasers, I can never get enough. For as long as I can remember, completing them has been my favorite pastime. One of my fondest childhood memories involves me working on my first jigsaws. The puzzles, based on my then-favorite TV show, Scooby Doo, still sit on the shelf in my closet. While I have now moved on to more challenging undertakings, my beloved puzzles represent the start of a vital part of me.

“A fourteen month old girl is arriving. It is a case of child abuse,” my pediatric resident says. My heart begins beating faster as this is my first case of child abuse and I do not know what to expect nor do I know what to do at this point. About an hour later, a girl with carrot-colored hair is rolled into the PICU, sitting quietly on a stretcher and not crying as I expected. As I get closer to her, I realize that I can barely see her eyes because they were raccoon-like, with black ecchymosis surrounding them. Examining her head, it felt as if I were playing with play-doh; I was able to feel my fingers making depressions from a very evident hematoma. As I continued to examine her, she held her arms out, asking to be carried. I started

As I progressed in middle school, teachers noted how distant I was with my peers. They did not see a child was in need, but one who was not engaged in class. They saw me as the problem. The school, in its wisdom, decided in a more clinical fashion, “I did not play well with others”. They sent me to therapy to find out why I, in their view, was not interested in making friends with my classmates. As a child who did not understand the social skills of children, I was put into a place devoid of anyone my age.

What if acceptance wasn't an option, and stage three didn't exist, would you shut down to?

The girl who I’d grown up with since preschool had a small tremble in her hands and couldn’t write legibly. Being bullied at a young age and didn’t pick up a pencil for the rest of elementary school, took its toll. But she sung the loudest songs and kept you on the edge of your seat with the passion that flowed from her vocal chords. She could talk for hours on end and listen just as well. She did all her work vocally and may have gotten the best grade in the class. Never giving excuses and always taking the hard route, and continued humming along the way.

It was cold on the night of November 14th. My friend, her boyfriend and I were walking to Walmart, planning on getting cake ingredients for my friend’s grandmother’s birthday. On our way there my surroundings seemed rather quiet for it being Angola. I felt like something was wrong like something had happened. But I continued to toss the feeling aside and just walked the path that leads to the parking lot. I couldn’t help but look in between the trees that held pitch black darkness. I was worried that was where troubles may lie, I was wrong. My real problem all started with a simple phone call.

Hi Greg, It was nice speaking with you on Friday at Gahagan Park. I hope you continue to recover from injuries so you can move forward with you goals. Per our conversation, I have attached a few resumes for your review with my contact information listed on them. Please feel free to contact with any questions that you may have for me. I do look forward to hearing from you.

Eek! I sounded like a teenage girl when I got the news. I was finally getting to go on the annual trip to Worlds of Fun. My aunts had gone every year for the past 3 years and had a blast every time, claiming that it got better each year. Not only was it a theme park, but when it got dark during the month of October it turned into a haunted forest. I had planned on having a great vacation, and I thought that it would be the best time of my life, but what happened was not what I expected.