Personal Narrative: My Essay By Pamela Hines

I’m ideally pessimistic, therefore I’m not easily influenced. Receiving a large amount of honor, uniquely I come off as formidable. I’m only 17 moreover, I’m just now starting to find myself. I feel as if without comfort I would perform surpassingly, accordingly I’m precisely individualistic. Throughout my childhood I’ve had various coaches not only in sports, likewise for life. Being adolescents, we imagine our parent to become our role model, opposingly I’m just now finding mine.

I had always assumed that my legs were strong and that I had decent muscle control, however, this thought was proven wrong at the beginning of my junior year in high school due to a detrimental injury. It was the first game of fall league for basketball, and within the first five minutes I had succumbed to an injury. Tearing my ACL and Meniscus has taught me to continue improving on my strength, not let this one injury keep me down, and to keep a positive mindset.

We had just celebrated the new year, a sign of new beginnings. The past fall my mother and I had a fight and were only communicating on a need to know. I had a boyfriend at the time, we had been dating for almost two years. I loved him and he loved me and I felt like nothing could ever go wrong, boy was I wrong. It was a cold morning, I woke up feeling strange but I could not quite figure out why. Jacob, my boyfriend, was the one who put the idea in my head. A couple hours later my life had went from just a normal nineteen year old, to being a nineteen year old facing being a mother. I was pregnant and there was nothing I could do to change that. Telling my parents, especially my mother was nearly impossible, “[a]nd after seeing my mother’s disappointed face once again, something inside of me began to die” (Tan 321).

A cliché way to start a personal essay on why someone would want to go to into medicine would go along the lines of “As I stare towards the future with a decision to make, I look at my own personal experiences and the experiences of those around me for guidance.” Afterward, they would premise their argument by talking about at how they look at medicine as an exciting career option because it is a field perpetually at the cutting edge of discovery, continuously opening newer vistas of human thinking, and knowledge. They then would conclude their argument by talking about how the fulfillment provided in healing physical, and psychological wounds, scars, and bruises go beyond the satisfaction produced elsewhere. While this is all good and true

Home is the beginning of one’s book. It is where your story begins, forms its characters, shows its purpose, and reveals its ora. This is how mine is written. Home is on the buzzing highway down a bumpy gravel road. It’s Brandon, Mississippi. It is the only home I’ve ever known. Home is the smell of homemade biscuits and tomato gravy on Saturday mornings. It is “Bless Your Heart” and “Yes Mam” and “No Sir”. The little bedroom in the back of a grey double-wide where Carrie Underwood songs played and where I learned to curl my hair and put on mascara. My cousins and I running around with mason jars, chasing the lightning bugs. Bar-B-q on the back porch and never meeting a stranger. It is the morals learned and the identity

In 1951 my grandfather first stepped foot on American soil thanks to a workers permit. As you expect before entering my grandpa was given a thorough body check where he would undress and would be checked for any diseases if found any would be sent back.

“Hey, caption needs us to come to her office,” called out Ryker my field partner. He then headed towards the captain Calvert's office.

Everyone has a story, some people have too many if you asked me, but one story has always stuck with me. Monique and I were standing next to a gigantic leafy tree hoping that the sub teacher wouldn’t make us run laps in the scorching hot weather. After running 4 laps we were exhausted, the teacher forgot about us and decided to run the humongous oval with the rest of the students. To make this boring, useless class a little bit more interesting, I started telling Monique that I’m an actual ninja. I exclaimed with excellent “Can I show you this really cool ninja/karate kid flip”.

The storm hit like a speeding bullet. It spun the world upside down, heavy rain blurring the edges of reality. Swollen clouds darkened the sky, drenching the earth with freezing water.

Pounding your head against an obstacle until your ears hemorrhage due to an seemingly unattainable objective that people prior have failed to accomplish. This is what a community needs: people continually trying to get a common goal accomplished, people who share this characteristic do great things in life. Being determined is what drives people to get things done. Failure to give up when the going gets tough is one trait that describes me. Throughout my life, I have motivated my peers by example. Even when I fail, I show that it’s always possible to get back up.

It was four AM in the morning when it happened the first time, mother rapping on your knuckles to get you up for practice, you were six. If you missed a single note or were off key you received more punishment; or as Maman called it, constructive criticism. Your knuckles bleed on the white keys of the piano, you sobbed, Maman only got more enraged.

My mother gave birth to me as a 16-year-old high school student, so in the beginning, my life was very inconsistent. The first 7 years of my life I don’t recall my mother being around that often, it was my grandmother who initially raised me and impacted my adolescent years. My mother after finishing high school and acquiring her nursing degree, was always working to ensure we had food on our plates and a roof over our head. Eventually my mother acquired enough wealth to move us to California for a better life and more opportunities than in Las Vegas. As time passed I had to learn how to manage the new life that was thrust upon me, and I no longer had my grandmother who kept me company when my mother was working. As a child of a teenage mother,

Emma! Pay attention!” “Stay on task!” “Stay focused” We are in a first-grade classroom. A small dreamy girl with blonde curly ringlets sits in the front row, directly facing the teacher. The teacher signals the girl in an effort to pull her back into the class but her efforts are fruitless. The girl’s mind has already flooded with anxiety, she retreats far back into her imagination, out of the reach of her teacher. A white envelope interrupts her thoughts. Her hands, heavy with the weight of what she knew she was holding, she stuffs her mediocre report card into her backpack along with a math test she might have failed, but she doesn't know because she can’t read either.

Due to life, every person goes through something or have some experience that leads to them having a downfall in their life where they back are up against the wall and they can’t find their way out of the situation. So, some people end up killing themselves, acting out, or maybe even seeking God. With me saying this I will like to share my personal narrative and what caused me to have a downfall and how did I redeem myself from every situation.

Irked at the fact that I have had this same conversation for the hundredth time without ever being able to retaliate, my lid tumbled off and I finally bursted.