Personal Narrative: Double Life

My life was suddenly changing right before one of the biggest changes: high school. I had more things to worry about than other high schoolers. I had to figure out how I was going to get home, how I was going to get the house clean before my mom got home, how I was going to get dinner started, all on top of getting my homework done. Due to this, I wasn’t as serious with my grades. I let them fall even though I knew I could do better. I was just way too busy to focus on school when there were more important things to focus on- my family. I slowly found out how to balance everything to get my grades up. I had to learn how to balance my life to make myself happy while keeping up my

I come across a rear projection TV on the side of the road one day, load it up, and take it home. I eagerly spend a good four hours stripping it down and saving as much as I can. I end up with a 48” fresnel lens, two hefty speakers, a couple large capacitors, three glass lenses, and a glass mirror. Left over is a box of electronic waste and the particle board skeleton of a TV. I take the electronics to my local electronics recycling center, and set the wooden frame on the curb. I took 70 lbs. of trash and turned it into 10 lbs. of treasure ripe for projects, 30 lbs. of recyclables that would have gone to a landfill, and 30 lbs. of refuse that I had fun

That was the beginning of the most riskful, yet most rewarding year of my high school career; a few precedents I made during the 2015-2016 year included getting a job, joining FFA, FCCLA, and the Academic Super Bowl teams, plus church work, simultaneously. I was fully aware that tackling this new schedule while having a heavy academic load would be challenging, because I was in all honors and Advanced Placement courses that left me with close to two hours of homework to complete each

What’s wrong if a girl wants to be an engineer? Or a boy feels inclined to be a cosmetician? The gender stereotypes that humanity has set up for itself ensure equality for those it approves of—the “normal” males and the “customary”

Change has been an inconvenience for me the past few years, and even harder this school year. To start, although I talk about this far too much, change first started when I came out. Telling my friends and family was something that was so personal, and extremely out of the ordinary that I couldn’t even think about what it would be like to openly like boys. Now thinking about this, I question: Did I even know myself? Did I even pay attention to people? Because I don’t think I could have gotten any gayer when I was a child. So I assume that means, I wasn’t hiding from people, I was hiding from myself really, because everyone knew I was gay and was just waiting for me to say something.

It was record breaking temperatures on this July 4th day. Red, white, and blue filling up the stands. Fans and umbrellas protecting spectators from the heat of the sun. It was about game time and I was getting ready to take the field for the last home game. Butterflies in my stomach, but I had to tell myself “it’s just another game”. Even though in my heart I knew it was not just another game.

When I was extended seven feet above the ground, I knew we had succeeded. My two bases were in front of me and my backspot was behind me. I heard the familiar counts of my backspot “one, two, three, four”, I bounced and pushed myself up into my bases waiting hands, “five, six, seven, eight”, I straightened as my bases lifted me up to chest level. I locked my knees and stayed tight. I put on a smile and looked ahead. I felt my backspot release her hold on my ankles. I heard her voice once again, “extension, one, two, three, four”, I brought my hands down to my sides and focused on staying tight as I slowly rose, “five, six, seven, eight. I was all the way up. Then a few moments later I heard the counts as they brought me to chest level then back down to the ground. We had done it, we had hit the stunt and did an extension.

As I began my junior year, I found myself juggling a rigorous academic schedule, varsity tennis, a social life and a new job. At first, I figured I could balance all of these activities. However, I became humbled by a 32% on an early Physics test triggering sheer panic regarding future applications to college. Knowing my grades needed to trend up as a junior, I dug down and did everything possible to improve my grades. I committed myself to a nightly study regimen consisting of intermittent on-off study blocks. Diligent removal of all distractions, including my I-Phone while studying was a major key. Also, I reduced my hours at work and often went to school early to meet with my teachers to review material. This action plan ultimately led to the improvement of my grades in all classes, culminating with a “B” in Physics and meeting my overall goal of a 4.0 GPA. Yes, I had failed a single test, but the real failure was not prioritizing and planning my activities proactively. The lesson I learned from this

Basically, I’m a girl, who just happened to be born into a male body. I don’t think that this is the most shocking thing, but it may be confusing. I haven't always been very comfortable with who I am, so I tried really hard to fit into the boxes that other

I’ve been trudging along for what seems like hours. I lost count of my steps sometime after my car broke down. When I look around all I see is an almost tangible grey curtain hiding everything except for a small segment of the highway. As I look forward the dark grey of the asphalt blends into the fog. I have no Idea what time it is when the fog rolled in my phone died. Without a clock, any length of time seems to go on forever, especially when the sun is hiding behind the fog. I just something I don’t understand about my situation, there has been no change in light since the fog rolled in. Same brightness the whole time. It’s almost like it’s not that I can’t tell time is passing. It’s that time isn’t passing, but that’s impossible.

One of the greatest life skills that you can attain is to always double check! I unfortunately had to learn this lesson the hard way. Even though obstacles come up, you can always learn from them. In this certain situation, my brother David and I thought that we did something when in reality we didn't.

Dr. Rosenberg nodded. “Correct,” he told her, “And Halfrida or Harold was intended to be the key, something that Emily Ryan herself was not fully unaware of.”

It wasn’t for another four years that I began to question my sexuality. I had spent so long manufacturing feelings, tittering about boys I couldn’t care less about, and acting like all my other friends, that anything else was foreign and intimidating. It was disconcerting when I began to notice other girls in a way I hadn’t noticed anyone before. Was this what all my friends had been talking about? A crush? The type of thing described in the television shows that I had only just begun to watch.

Growing up everyone is told that they are unique. “Be yourself,” “use your God-given talent,” and other expressions such as these impress the aforementioned narrative into our minds. Thus, when I was around thirteen years old, I thought my sexuality was just a part of me that only I had. I wanted to share this feature about myself; I wanted to take pride in it and show it off. Coming out to a close few friends showed positive and emotional responses. Riding on this high, I was ready to embrace myself in high school. Yet, my naivety took the best of me as I was going to an all male, religious high school. My sexuality has provided me with experiences that have and will continue to shape my life. These struggles, whether they are internal or external, have provided me with invaluable skills.

My identity crisis started when I was about 9 years old. The realization that I was different from friends, family, and my classmates were scary and hard to bare. As a young child, we are taught and framed to be a certain way, think a certain way, and live a certain way according to the family structure. Like most young girls I often fantasized about my wedding. What type of dress I was going to wear, what colors I would pick and what type of dress my wife would choose. My fantasies were often disrupted by the sound of my mother’s voice instructing me to complete a task, or letting me know she was home. At that very moment internal shame, and denial would set in. This is not normal, a wife, why was I thinking about a wife? I don’t like girls! I like Josh. That’s who I will marry, Josh.