Personal Narrative Analysis

Kevin and I stepped into a whole new world in the fall of 2009. We began our degree program at Emmanuel School of Religion, which is now called Emmanuel Christian Seminary. We were working on our Masters of Arts and Religion. I was excited and nervous about going back to college. Our first day was terrifying. Kevin and I attended orientation the week prior to classes starting. There was a definite realization this academic program was going to be a challenge. However, I wanted a challenge. On the first day of class, we started with Greek. Our professor was Dr. Marwede. He opened the class with a test. He came over to my chair first and handed me a paper with a list of Greek words on it. My immediate reaction was shock, which Dr. Marwede realized I was overwhelmed by the look on my face. He told the class we could take it home as homework. Many of the students in the Greek class had previous experience with Greek; however, Kevin and I had no knowledge at all. We were overwhelmed. We were assigned five chapters and told to return the next day for a quiz with our homework.

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.

Walking the overgrown paths in the expansive woods behind my house, I tried again to escape the claustrophobia of the cul-de-sac and the boredom of a small town. The forest was my sanctuary, and I walked knowing every rock, root, and bush. Then suddenly, it was different. My eyes hit the familiar clearing ahead, and I launched into a sprint through the underbrush, leaping up and over the barbed wire-topped rock wall. Landing with a whoop of delight, I eyed the novelty, a huge, brown steer, staring back at me. Molten joy turned to icy fear, and the steer began to charge. Thirty seconds of terror later, I noticed two things as I heaved against a maple tree: my now dung-covered shoes were ruined, and my curiosity was finally piqued.

I lost a job and did not find another one for several months. Once I did and tried to come back I was in 2 different car wrecks with the injuries and pain I was in there was no way I would have been able to complete successfully any of my classes or have them done in a timely fashion the concussion I suffered prevented me from remembering a lot of the time as well as the pain medications in which I was placed on. I tried again once I felt fine enough to go back and then I had health issues which required me to go in for surgery not once but twice. During that time I was not able to complete the classes as well in a timely fashion not only could I not lift my arms above my head but I needed help to assist me to be able to move about and therapy

After reading, I thought about the mental health continuum and how fear, the root of anxiety, was such a universal part of the human experience. While creating the piece I thought about how anxiety blurs out reality, trapping the individual in a swirl of fearfulness and intense worries. It is not considered pathological to be a “worry wart” or a “scardey-cat.” The problem is not the presence of fear, instead it is the overwhelming, debilitating, and persistence of those fears and worries.

“Will she ever be okay?” are the words that invested within me through every minute that passed. I could not help but think the world was falling in around me and nothing would relieve the pain. My daughter had something terribly wrong, and all I could do was sit and wonder the outcome of this horrific event. The world around me began to feel suffocating as if there was no way out. I brought this precious life into this world with the mindset that I could guard her from all the cruelty and darkness. My body grew weak with each thought that crept in my mind and I could feel the chills running down my back each time the doctor came with an update. Despite everything that could go wrong, I never stopped believing that with prayer I was not fighting

To my mind velocity isn’t as significant, as the weight and size of the projectile. The larger and heavier the projectile, the less deflection. That is why the larger pistol calibers are preferable. I possess no experience with bonded bullets. However, I can see how they would be a better option in shooting through laminated windscreens, if the manufacturing process claim is correct that the design will control expansion, have higher weight retention, and deeper penetration. FMJ shares some of these characteristics and therefore in theory at least, if not in practice lesser fragmentation when hitting the windshield and in turn penetration into the vehicle.

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

Anytime I hear someone say that I’ve changed or that I'm a lot different now than I used it be, it brings to mind a certain set of events that occurred just before I entered high school. In eighth grade I had few worries and spent most of my time playing sports. Although I made good grades, sports were my number one priority. I often wondered what I would do in my free time if I didn’t play a sport. Little did I know I would soon find out. Midway through my 8th grade football season I tore my ACL (anterior crucial ligament) . The injury required surgery and meant that I would be out of all sports for at least six months. Everyone said I'd be back on the field in no time, but six months sounded like an eternity. My goal was to complete

“It was the best of times, and the worst of times…” This quote really couldn’t describe my summer better. It started off pretty darn annoying, and I couldn’t wait for it to be over and to start school. Then, after a few plot twists, before I knew it the summer had one week left and I didn’t want anything more than for it to be longer.

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.

It was a normal Saturday night. My siblings and I were watching TV. I was nine, my older brother was twelve, and my younger sister was seven. My mom was cleaning up the kitchen like she usually does. My dad was on a trip with some of his friends to Baja California to ride motorcycles. We were expecting his nightly call checking up with us, and around 8 PM the phone rang. My mom answered the phone. It wasn’t my dad, it was his boss, Dale. It wasn’t until twenty minutes later when the phone call ended, she explained to us what happened. My dad had flipped over the handlebars of his motorcycle and was paralyzed from the neck down, and this occurred 12 hours earlier. Luckily his friends were all trained in basic first aid, and one was an EMT. All

In my four years of my high school experience, I was not excited to go to school or even be at school due to the long days, but at the end of the day, I was really excited to attend a place

Going to high school with a convict father was one of the biggest challenges of my life. I had a great relationship with my dad, when he was arrested I was devastated because I knew my life wouldn’t be the same. I was living under a one income family that didn’t make much so money was very tight, I was using my siblings’ hand-me-down clothes and I was not able to go out to enjoy a lunch with friends since my mom couldn’t afford to give me a little extra cash. I started freshman year seeing my mom struggle to keep all three of my siblings and me on course with our studies and behavior. I started to rebel against my mom’s authority because I felt as though I could do what I want because no one was there to back my mom up like my dad would. I

Everyone has to grow up at some point, but at what point does the childhood end? When do we have to act as adults? The time is different for everyone based on their life experiences. Usually there is an event or group of events that signify transitioning into adulthood. For me, that was getting my first job and taking responsibility for my money.