Personal Narrative: A Short Summary

“As a dedicated student of the martial arts I live by the code of the black belt: modesty, courtesy, integrity, self-control and perseverance, SIR!” For eight years I had to follow this creed thoroughly and whole-heartedly. When karate was first mentioned in my household, I was narrow-minded and pessimistic. The use of self-defense and fighting seemed irrelevant to my naive and youthful life. However even after what seemed to be a lifetime of complaints and arguments, my pressing parents held their ground and I was forced to start my long and rewarding journey of becoming a black belt.

Growing up with a father in the military, you move around a lot more than you would like to. I was born just east of St. Louis in a city called Shiloh in Illinois. When I was two years old my dad got the assignment to move to Hawaii. We spent seven great years in Hawaii, we had one of the greatest churches I have ever been to name New Hope. New Hope was a lot like Olivet's atmosphere, the people were always friendly and there always something to keep someone busy. I used to dance at church, I did hip-hop and interpretive dance, but you could never tell that from the way I look now.

Half a dozen guys were in the BJJ room grappling, the view was astonishing as I stood outside the foggy glass observing. I knew this was something I wanted to do. My fears, insecurities, sadness, and anger Jiu Jitsu would reach inside and rip them out. Weiss Sakhizada was the coach he looked young and invigorating , he treated me with such kindness and was so cheery to know that I was

As I stepped on the bright red and black mats, I could hear my heart beating through my chest. I sat there stretching my arms while attempting to memorize my techniques. The thought of forgetting a technique or part of my form paralyzed me with fear. Uncertainty ran through my head. Questions like, “what if I freeze and don’t know what to do?” and, “what if I can’t defend myself from the black belts?”. I began to regret spending time outside instead of practicing more. I knew I had to perform the techniques as best as I could. A few minutes passed, all five of the black belts

Waking up early on a Saturday to excessively exercise and then getting beaten up afterward is not everyone’s cup of tea. It sure wasn’t mine and to this very day, I still have mixed feelings about sparring in Taekwondo. Sparring is a sport for students to better prepare themselves in self-defense, but also for competition. Light contact was recommended, but at times the pressure gets the better of the fighter. Accidents frequently occur. I was just starting out in this lung-stopping sport, so neither my mind and body were ready to have the life sucked out of us. I didn’t mind sparring, but when I saw who I was paired with, I might of as well just left the suffocating arena.

I rush into my home and run up the stairs to my room. I jump on my bed and roll over to my laptop and open it quickly. I log onto the One Direction site and see that I made it in time to see the bid. I scroll and try and find my name and I see I'm in third place for the tickets and the time is running out. I've already bid $7000 for three tickets and backstage passes. The reason it's so expensive is because these passes are the last set of passes for their concert. 5sos is also playing so we would be meeting two bands and hearing both of them play.

In 2025, I will be twenty-nine years old and hopefully married. I will be married to my significant other of ten years Earnest Palmer III, who is a dentist. I would have been recently graduating with a bachelor’s in Culinary Arts and trying to plan to open my own restaurant, BubbaD’s Eateries. Knowing my big headed husband of mine, I probably had a baby then and trying to have another baby. Hopefully, by then Earnest will get rid of the idea naming our son, King. We will be living in the suburbs near New York City but working in the city. Being a woman with great memory, I probably wrote a memoir about my crazy life and trying to sell it to a publisher. If none of the publishers wants to publish my memoir, I will probably sell it the Lifetime

“Casey, your group needs to do the stunt one more time!” coach said imprudently. It happened March 26, 2015; it was at the end of a two hour practice. During the summer months in South Georgia, it is utterly hot and humid, especially in our cheer gym (a warehouse with no air conditioner); it only has two heavy-duty fans and a roll-up door. With this in mind, my group became slightly irritated. Everyone was exhausted; nevertheless we still had to do the stunt anyway.

It began by having me attend every class the week of the test, writing a one thousand word essay, and taking a written exam the night before.The evening of Friday, around six o'clock, began the physical portion of the test by running ten laps around the Bryan Courthouse, totaling two miles, and ending that day with a ten minute horse stance. Lasting three and a half hours, everything else in between was purely physical and a "warmup" for the main event of testing on Saturday. We were questioned that Friday on why we were doing this and what for. My answer, unlike some, was to learn more so I could teach and help the ranks lower than me strive to become one of the black belts. We ended the night by having Sensei, Steven Franz, take us and our families out to dinner at Four Seasons across the street. I had very little to eat, as I was obviously fearing even more greatly the next painful day to

My initial perceptions about the students of St. Angela were very stereotypical. Honestly, I expected those students to come from single parent backgrounds and come from a low income household. I expected to deal with students who live life in a survival type of manner. What I mean by survival type of manner is for one to be on defense seeing the type of the children are from the Austin area. Walking in to St. Angela I expected to deal with kids that didn’t listen and know respect for authority. I expected this due to my upbringing in the same neighborhood.

A cliché way to start a personal essay on why someone would want to go to into medicine would go along the lines of “As I stare towards the future with a decision to make, I look at my own personal experiences and the experiences of those around me for guidance.” Afterward, they would premise their argument by talking about at how they look at medicine as an exciting career option because it is a field perpetually at the cutting edge of discovery, continuously opening newer vistas of human thinking, and knowledge. They then would conclude their argument by talking about how the fulfillment provided in healing physical, and psychological wounds, scars, and bruises go beyond the satisfaction produced elsewhere. While this is all good and true

Samuel Butler once said, “Fear is the static that prevents me from hearing myself” and few statements ring as true in my ears. Fear prevented and weakened too many of my actions for years, especially in my progression of Taekwondo ranks. Belt Exams shot fear, stress, anxiety deep within my body, waiting for my thoughts to wander then bombarding me with the potential of failure and ineptitude. Nothing scared me more than the thought of not passing an examination. I was forced to confront the reality of my fears at the end of the summer when I was told that I would not be allowed to receive my new belt. The news did not feel true but my instructor confirmed it. My shreds of confidence completely shattered and my instructor knew that it was not

Firstly, I became a full member of the high performance sparring program. Around the time that I tested I decided to step up my training, Increasing the number of classes I went to and raising the intensity of my training. I also, began going to more tournaments at the high

Admittedly, I was apprehensive attending the initial class. I recall walking in unsteadily and noticing how I was one of only a handful of females and younger than the majority of people. To my right, an octagon shaped cage with wire fencing stood two feet off the ground. Within it, six foot tall, two hundred pound men sparred. Surprisingly, those facts did not help ease the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. I thought to myself that fourteen year old me would not fit in with the twenty-something year olds that looked down at me from the cage. Yet, a faint feeling of exhilaration was creeping its way forward as I saw the passion in the fighters’ eyes.

We all know martial arts are a means of exercise, self-preservation/self-defense, and self-perfection. We spend years learning how to increase our attributes (speed, timing, fine motor skill, sensitivity, etc.), how to defend ourselves and our loved ones, and how to reach that higher spiritual awareness that makes us better people. Most of us could not imagine our lives without it. We love getting off work or out of school and going to our respective Dojo/Dojang/Kwoon and spending some time working out. We feel centered and ready to take on our lives after a couple of hours of Training and Randori. We may even find time during our regular day for some Carenza or Kata. It just makes feel good and hey we are warriors so of course we make the time in our lives for this pursuit. This article is not for you the standard martial artist, at least not in the way you expect. This article is for those who believe they can’t. Those that believe martial arts is an impossibility or at least severely limited due to their limitations…their handicaps.