Personal Narrative Analysis

It was the summer of 2012, my brother Ashton and I were in Hollywood, FL on vacation. We had been fishing since eight in the morning and we were bored out of our minds, so we hopped in a canoe and set off to what is the most thrilling event of my life. We were not prepared physically or mentally for what we were about to encounter.

When I made the decision to go to school to obtain my LPN, I was twenty-four years old. I was married with a 3 year old child and worked full time as a Certified Nursing Assistant with Hospice. My husband worked in the union but due to plants closing down in our area, he was laid off, and I was the main financial support for my family. I knew things were not going to be easy but I was determined to be successful, not only for me but for my family. I began the process of enrolling in November 2009 and was all set to begin school in April of 2010. I was beyond excited for this journey to begin. I had a wonderful support system, not only at home but with my co-workers as well and I knew nothing was standing in my way. Fast forward to December

When I was in fifth grade, I was caught between two worlds, playing the a woodwind or strings instrument. After much thought on which one, I decided that the violin was the best instrument for me, because it had a beautiful, unique sound, plus the possibilities are incredible. I could receive a compliment from a teacher, or even get accepted to the symphony. In elementary, I was known as the best player for my patience and understanding of every piece we played. “Your daughter is my best student in all 4 schools that I teach,” exclaimed my orchestra teacher, Ms. Nichols, to my mother. Ever since then, I have been practicing my violin every minute of every day. At the end of my sixth grade year, I received a letter stating that I have been invited

What makes me feel most successful? Setting a goal, working towards it, and seeing what I have hoped for become a part of my reality. Most people apply this thinking to things that considered universally important, like getting their dream job or investing and growing their money. I agree that these are important in life but I like to balance the practical things in life with the things that excite me. For me, nothing is more exciting that going fast which is why one of my most significant accomplishments in life to date was buying my Mustang GT.

I strongly believe that memories that have been repressed and then recovered should not be allowed in court to prosecute an alleged abuser. This comes mainly from the fact that our memory can be altered. Changes to what we believe we saw can come from another person's observations about a situation or from our own false revision of the situation. They can cause false memories that corrode the accurate ones. In my opinion and from personal experience, if something traumatic occurs, it will never be forgotten even if suppression is used, even if the event occurred at a young age. These traumatic experiences can cause a lack of connection and ill-feeling toward someone or something. Retrieval, which is the process of reactivating information that

In contrary to the “traditional” narrative, my aspirations of being a future healthcare provider did not start during childhood. I remember at the tender age of seven and bearing witness to the severe pain that radiated throughout my father’s body due to the movement of kidney stones. That experience, now looking back, instilled a sense of fear in me that lead to the avoidance of any career exploration or opportunity related to healthcare. It was not until college after better comprehending the healthcare system and learning about its inner workings that I began to develop my passion around social change and creating more equitable outcomes in terms of effective patient care and practices. Although, I am unsure as to what role and or, the function

As a child I never realized the true advantages I was given in life. My understanding of the wonderful things that come from knowing the English language never occurred to me. Being naive, I thought everyone that spoke English spoke it the same, not knowing that dialects even existed. But as I grew older my experiences built how I spoke and I truly began to realize how complex something like being a native speaker of English can be.

When I was in ninth grade I took a trip to the doctor with my mom. About to tryout for the high school volleyball team, I needed my yearly sport physical. As a kid who always would ride my bike and hang out outside, I thought I was a healthy kid. Growing up I knew I was overweight but I never thought it was bad as the doctor made it out to be. As doctors do, she showed me where I lined up to the average of my age and height group. I already knew what she was gonna say, I already knew I was “fat”; and of course the doctor told me my weight was too high for my height and I was putting myself at risks. Like most kids I didn’t want to pay attention to what she was saying, I was a teenager who just wanted to get out of there with the paper that

I have talked about goals before, but today I want to talk about a very special goal of mine. To begin with, driving scares me! Especially my mom's vehicle, which is like driving a mechanical monster; or a behemoth as I call it! For a long time I have had friends and family on my back to get my license. I have had other options; people willing to give me rides, bus. I become quite inventive in finding ways to side step my fear. That was until my mother started having medical problems, and I wasn't able to help her as much as I wanted. (I also began to realize that as much as I wanted my parents to be around forever to look out for me, reality has a different plan.) So I decided it was time to face one of my demons!

On June 20, 2015, I got up out of bed feeling refreshed and new because it was practice for graduation day. Walking to the bathroom, I took a warm shower and brushed my teeth with mint toothpaste. I got dressed in a rush throwing on some jeans with a black shirt. Heading to the living room, I stopped and asked my stepfather if he could drive me to school because it was his day off. “ Sure,” my stepfather said, sitting on the gray couch watching television. As we went to the car, he shut the front door locking the top and bottom. I got in the passenger seat of his white pickup truck. While he drove me to school time, I can feel the vibration through the seat from the engine. When I got to the drop off zone in front of the school, I notice class

There I was, a ten-year-old all alone on the school’s make-shift football field during recess. The school year was young and the summery North Carolina air was seemingly inescapable. Practically blinded from the sun’s rays I squinted as the other fourth grade boys argued over what team I would soon have to dreadfully play on. Clearly I wasn’t as athletic as my peers, at the time I let this define me. Like any fourth grader I attempted to fit in, I mean who wouldn’t? There a comfort associated with the herd mentality we all fall into. During my fourth grader year I slowly fell into isolation, though I didn’t realize at the time. When the other Dad’s were playing catch with their son’s my dad sharing insight into his experience in business and

I thought this was going to be the best decision of my life, but the first week of my five-month journey told me otherwise. It began with a 12-hour drive to Ames, Iowa, and while most of you may not even know where Iowa is I’ll put it in perspective: from Texas, you have to take I-35N through Oklahoma, Kansas, and Missouri to finally reach the state of Iowa. During this drive, my parents constantly asked me if this was really the right decision and all listed the financial consequences that came with going to an out of state university. To make matters worse, I left my Kindle at the hotel that we stayed at in Kansas and had forgotten to pack my pillows along with a few other essential items which didn’t help my case about being responsible in front of my parents.

I remember visiting the community center near my home every Saturday to find some new craft to work on. I have always enjoyed the hands-on experience of DIY projects -- from sewing clothes for my stuffed animals to folding origami animals to creating a picture frame. I remember reluctantly leaving at the closing time only to return the next Saturday to work on something for another four hours. This stopped when I entered high school and volunteering occupied my weekends. However, my love of arts and crafts never diminished.

Drew no longer could stand living with a lob roommate. Drew’s roommate space is very terrible that if he loses an important item he will never find it because of the mess. The closet door is always open and hard to ignore, Drew’s roommate has lots of clean clothes that he don’t even wear. His roommate has dirty shoes on top of the clothes or even on top of the desk. On the TV spot, he has a mountain of dirty clothes and shoes that drew can ignore because when he opens the door people can see all the mess. At the left of the hand of the bed, Drew’s roommate has a trash can where is always full of trash, and most of the trash are going underneath the two beds because they are close to each other. On the right hand, the roommate has all his sport

I traveled for the next few days alone. It was a struggle to find a source of food everyday. I was running low on energy and feeling dehydrated. It was getting to the point where walking through the sand was a struggle. I have gone without food for the last few days because of exhaustion, but I tried to keep moving. I could feel my body reaching its limits. I had gone too long without food, and the water I had was not quenching my thirst. A short time later, while trudging through the sand, I tripped. I laid there not having the strength to lift my body weight. I could barely fathom how death was so close. I didn’t want to accept it, but I had no fight left in me, no strength. My vision started to go in and out, and I slowly surrendered to