Personal Narrative Analysis

It has been a while since we had last talked. How have you been? I have been fantastic, although school is substantially more stressful, when compared to seventh grade. I am still participating in and enjoying soccer. The last couple of holidays in which the family came together have been amazing.

When I was 13 my mother, who was 7 months pregnant, had a stroke.My dad and I rushed her to the emergency room. The doctors told us she was having a stroke so they're were going to have to deliver the baby and operate on her. My baby brother Leo was premature so he had to stay in the neonatal intensive care unit for two months until he was healthy. My mom on the other hand was in a coma for about a couple of weeks. When she woke up her whole right side unable to move. She remained in the hospital for 7 months to recover and was then transferred to a rehab center in Omaha. This took a toll on our family because it was far away from home, and my mother wasn't with us on weekdays. From that point on I had to carry an immense amount of responsibility.

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.

Growing up, I had always been surrounded by adults, I knew I could rely on. The thought of being an adult, seemed very distant to me, at least that was until I entered teenagehood. At the age of 12, I went under the custody of my aunt because my mother had to move to another state, due to health reasons. Not having my mom definitely made me more self dependent. However, I still had my aunt and uncle as parent figures, who I could depend on, so I truly did not feel the need to grow up just yet.

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.

I’ve been called a perfectionist, a procrastinator, a control freak, scatterbrained, a worrywart, and a stress case, not without good reason. I’ve had anxiety issues since I was little, but the growing pressure from middle school to high school really brought out the stress big-time. Throughout elementary school, I received good grades but I acted shy and distracted. I spent lots of time with my nose buried in a book- at home, while shopping, in the car, at other people’s houses, even while crossing the street (which I do not recommend). Fiction, specifically fantasy, was my favorite escape. I’d spend hours attending Hogwarts, discovering Narnia, fighting in the Hunger Games, exploring Fablehaven, and taking on Greek mythological monsters. It was just so much easier and more fun to deal with fictional problems than face reality.

I decided before I went to college that I was going to experience new things. When you come from a small town where Walmart is the only place to have fun, you end up craving something different from the everyday drivel. Adventure is out there, and I shouldn’t have to drive three hours for something interesting. College should have brought about a variety of spice in life.

When I was a naïve little girl in middle school, I always had a problem speaking up for myself whether it was a bully, a teacher, or my friends. I’ve always had a problem with voicing my opinions because I honestly didn’t want to feel judged for saying them or for feeling absolutely useless. I was an awkward, 14 year old girl who had many insecurities and was always shy when it came to just being myself. Being shy and insecure didn’t really help with the fact that I had to do presentations all the time and had to socialize when we were paired up in partners. I was a nervous wreck when it came to do with anything of being myself in front of my peers and teachers.

I took voice lessons when I was ten; something I had always wanted to do, but had never tried. I wanted to be like Carrie Underwood, writing hit songs, making tons of money, and getting into all kinds of trouble with “cowboy casanovas”. Although singing was something I’d always wanted to do, I was afraid of being substandard, so I kept talking my parents out of it. Finally, my mom dragged me to the class and I was extremely nervous, I was shaking harder than Taylor Swift in her new music video. My mother’s assurance that I was a great singer and that the instructor would love me proved to be a poor buffer against my fears.

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.

Times are changing, and the world is becoming more advanced. Changing times lead to changing education. With changing education schools must decide what is important to keep teaching, for example cursive writing. I believe cursive writing is something that belongs in our past.

Both my biological parents as well as my step parents are educators, so it is no surprise that the expectation of college is one that I have carried since the day I was born. Learning everyday was essential in both of my households, and throughout preschool and elementary school I was met with flashcards, workbooks, and encyclopedias encompassing every core subject. Yet somehow I always found time in the day to draw.

Hartford, SD, the town that I am from, is a pretty small town with about seven churches. My family attends the Lutheran church nearly every Sunday and even sits in the same spot every week. When I was younger, I attended daycare and elementary school with kids who attended churches of different denominations. We would go through our days without discussing our differences. My parents would never discourage my sister and I from interacting with children who went to other churches. In fact, if we had a sleepover on a Saturday night with a friend, my parents said it was okay to go to their church the next morning. This allowed us to see what the different denominations looked like but we were young and often thought that it was all the same. Middle

After skipping school, which became habitual for me, I would wake up and walk into my grandparent’s kitchen. When I wanted to fake being sick, I would always stay at their house because my grandmother was ok with me playing hooky. She would question me asking, “Why do you feel sickly” or “Why are you staying home?” This usually was returned with the proper response, “My head hurts.” I did this with the intention she wouldn’t find out whether I was actually sick or not. After two hours or so, she usually had it figured out. My only worry was the dread of my grandfather coming home for lunch to reprimand me for skipping school. I was not worried about myself because there happened to be a competition waiting at the house when my grandfather arrived.

People say a dog is a man’s best friend, but this dog was not my best friend. It happened Thanksgiving morning, the weather was cold as ice, but I forgot to wear my jacket. I was walking one of my dogs( and luckily she was not a runner). I went on the trail I usually go on. One part of the trail is touching the fences to backyards. Unfortunately, a dog was outside in one of the backyards.