Personal Narrative Analysis

Throughout the past year I went through a great deal of undertakings that caused me to become more experienced with my skills and how to overcome various challenges. These really built up my character and the way I am today. In all aspects, this past year consisted of going to Killington, Vermont, my brother going into the Air Force, meeting him in Texas for his graduation of basic training, completing a double backflip on a trampoline, landing a front flip on flat ground, accomplishment of a 2 ½ front flip on a diving board, getting 2nd at leagues, and competing in districts. All of these activities have advanced me in a skill or challenged me to an extent.

For many, their formative years have a large influence on who they become as adults. This can happen in many different ways including new experiences, discovering a new sport or hobby, and uncovering what they are passionate about. For me, this was falling in love with a new language from a very young age and becoming very interested in the culture that was associated with it.

Failure is truly negative if we choose to not learn from it. When we face setbacks and difficulties, we are given golden opportunities to grow as people. Learning from our shortcomings makes us wiser, stronger, and unveils a chance to turn an undesirable outcome into a building block of character. My hockey career has been a sinusoidal trail of highs and lows, but I always learned from the downturns.

Welcome to my outlandish, yet in my opinion, amusing brain! The name presented to me upon birth is Taylor Lee Thompson. Currently, I am suffering through the struggles of junior year at Marion Senior High School. Difficult classes, early mornings, and extracurricular activities have made me an expert in the sport of juggling. The class that has appealed to me the most over the years is Criminal Justice. I found the behind the scenes instruction absolutely riveting! My instructor, Mrs. Hamm, kept me on my toes and I was always learning about crime, criminals, and cases. On the other hand, the class I utterly dread is history. Any and every type of history has always slowly bored me to sleep. I am convinced we are taught the same curriculum

As a 16 year old young man, when I think about responding to a writing prompt asking me to describe an event that I consider a launch pad towards gaining maturation, the first things that should come to my mind are getting my first job, graduating from high school, or being accepted into the college of my choice. This was not the case for me. The event that I feel has marked my transition from childhood to manhood would be the conversation that my mother had with me after the shooting death of Trayvon Martin.

It was a day that I had been waiting for all season, why? Because it meant that the pain was going to be over and it was my final race to prove how good I really was to everyone and hopefully fulfill the goal my coach, school and fans set for me. That morning of October 28th I woke up really sick to my stomach. Nerves were taking over my body and I couldn't sit still. The ride to the course I remember putting my headphones in and zoning everything out and never truly coming out of it till after the race was over. I remember my mom hugging me and telling me how proud of me she was and that no matter how bad my shins hurt to keep running. My coach grabbed me before I went to the starting line and surprisingly said how proud he was of me too, but that it wasn't over so that could change. It was so cold outside and I remember being able to see my breath and worrying that it was going to really effect my performance. I could also see the

One day i was fishing in my uncle mikes pond and mom said that i needed to drive the golf cart the the end of the road .then she said that dalan was coming to the pond ,so i drove to the driveway and when i seen him coming around the corner he was going about 70 mph and he slammed on the brakes and turned in the driveway and he followed me to the pond .he gave us all a hug when he stoped to get out.

When i was born, i had a breathing problem, and paralyzed from head to toe. The doctor had to straped tubes to me, so I can breath properly. They have to perform operations on me, but It was unsuccessful. The doctor said, that i will die in a couple of hours. My mom and dad were shocked that was still alive in the morning. I was recovered so fast it was a miracle. A year later, i was out the hospital. 10 year laters, my parent was watching nba on tv ,while i was sleeping in my bed. Then the power went off suddenly. BOOM!! Glass broke.! I woke up and got curious where the sound came from, so i got out of bed, grab my baseball bat and went to investigative.i tiptoe into the hall wall trying not to make a sound. Then i heard a gun shots and

A reoccurring circumstance in my life that I have been apart of for the last couple of years is competing on a cross-country team. For me, running is both exercise and a metaphor. Running day after day, piling up the races, bit-by-bit I raise the bar, and by clearing each level I elevate myself. At least that’s why I’ve put in the effort day after day: to raise my own level. Racing for me hasn’t always been this crystal clear. When I first started running there were the wind sprints, suicides, mile runs, max-out days, and the months of conditioning that made me wonder why as athletes we keep giving a 110 percent day in and day out.

I have learned throughout the years that I am a person who gets nervous easily. Whether it is a speech, difficult test, or sports game I can count on the fact that I will be nervous, no matter the context. For me there are two things that I constantly worry about in these situations; the many possible bad outcomes, and the hype that comes before any of these situations. For example, when I was younger and had to go get a shot I would always stress about it leading all the way up to the shot. My mom would always say that the build-up is worse than the actual event. But, by over exaggerating the pain I thought I would feel, I validated my claim that shots are stressful. She was right, the shot and the accompanying pain were gone in ten minutes.

I sat in my room paralyzed with anxiousness. Mr. Chappuis had told us the grades would be in by 5:00 pm, but it was already nearing 6 o'clock. I tapped my fingers on the desk more rapidly as my thoughts began to wander to the fear that was in my mind as the test was placed on my desk. I gripped my chair thinking about all the questions I had answered without a clue of the true response. A shock went down my spine as I began to realize the impact this exam would have on my final french grade. The sun’s final rays danced across the sky as I was still focused on refreshing my computer every several seconds. When I could almost no longer bare it, I saw my grade flash up on the screen in large blue print. I could not conceive of what had happened!

I had always loved the spotlight. I was popular, outgoing, and lived for attention. I was active in almost every school sport and club with connections from all cliques. I guess you could say I owned the spotlight and ran the show….but I was never prepared for the day the curtains closed on me.

In my recent memory, there hasn’t been a significant “bump in the road” that affected my last four years. However, if there was something that I will acknowledge held me back from unleashing my full potential, it definitely had to be caring a little too much for my friends.

Up until I was thirteen, I had been in the same school district and had been in classes with the same kids since preschool. Then between the ages of thirteen and fifteen my family and I moved three different times between two states. In that short amount of time, I had to learn to adapt to teaching methods, school rules and the type of peers I encountered at every new school I attended. I believe I am fortunate for these experiences because I never knew how hard it was for me to adapt to unfamiliar situations until we moved and it became necessary for me to do so. I struggled at the first school a lot and hardly had any friends, due to cultural differences between the rural Wisconsin town that I was from, and the poverty and drug stricken reservation that I had moved to.

This past week it has been very interesting to learn about the various defense mechanisms that protect us against anxiety. While I was previously familiar with some of these ego-protecting behaviors, I was unaware of their purpose. These mechanisms distort reality in order to disguise the id’s socially unacceptable desires.