Personal Narrative: My Reflective Essay

Summer vacation, and school ends for about three months, and then you have as much fun as you can, then back to school… right? Well I had to go to summer school, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Everything was going fine, I had a job after summer school, and that was going fine as well. They say that summer is supposed to be fun and exciting, and it usually is for me and my family. However in July my father started coughing up blood. My father usually doesn’t make it his top priority to go to the doctors, so he waited about four weeks until he really didn’t feel good.

It hurts. My bright red bruises under the light were buzzing from the pain. The yelling and arguing were muffled by my loud sobs. Why did this have to happen to me? I was just a kid, I didn’t do anything! Stomp stomp stomp. I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. He found me and yelled into my ears even more. I was called ugly, fat, disgusting, useless, girly, weak. The words ringed in my ears as I asked myself once again, why? I was like a slave, I couldn’t defend myself, I had to survive the beatings. I succumbed to the insults and descended into chaos.

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.

My initial perceptions about the students of St. Angela were very stereotypical. Honestly, I expected those students to come from single parent backgrounds and come from a low income household. I expected to deal with students who live life in a survival type of manner. What I mean by survival type of manner is for one to be on defense seeing the type of the children are from the Austin area. Walking in to St. Angela I expected to deal with kids that didn’t listen and know respect for authority. I expected this due to my upbringing in the same neighborhood.

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

There I was, poised with the first draft of my masters thesis, ready to jack it under the rear wheels of my car so that I could vent my anger and frustration. Never had I felt this kind of undiluted rage in dealing with a piece of writing. As far as I was concerned, the first draft was complete and therefore the entire piece was finished; however, my thesis advisor didn’t quite agree with me. A less deranged friend of mine talked me out of repeatedly backing over my thesis, and convinced me that it didn’t really matter if I did leave tire marks on it because I had multiple drafts on my disk. But still, I knew that it would just feel so good to leave some tire tread on the paper.

I felt really connected to your experience after reading your personal narrative essay. I could relate to your essay because I suffered a lost in my family too. When I was really young, my grandma passed away suddenly and my time with her was cut short significantly. So, reading your personal narrative essay made me reminisce back to the day I found out she died. Similarly, just like you I went through a wave of emotions consisting of shock, grief, and acceptance. I'm sorry for your loss and I can't imagine the full extent of what you went through.

Some days begin like any other, and then end in a way so unexpected, so devastatingly sad that it takes your breath away. You are left with questions like how could this be? Why did this happen? To which there is no answer. Your brain begins to hypothesize and rationalize and pick apart every detail, I should have known. There must have been a sign I missed. I live with these thoughts still, like a an incomplete jigsaw puzzle sitting on a table of sadness, in a house of guilt, on a long dark road of regret.

1) During the second week of clinical, a patient of mine was extremely anxious in regard to the life style changes that needed to be made once he was discharged from the hospital. He was also uneasy about the cardiac catheterization scheduled for that day, to which I provided support and resources that morning to help with his worries. His nervousness was first noticeable during the head to toe assessment where the patient asked numerous questions about life after being discharged. I first interpreted my patient’s questions and concerns as normal, until later that day when he asked the same questions to which I answered. I responded to these signs of anxiety by sitting down with my patient and having another discussion about his concerns. During our discussion, I explained how only slight modifications needed to be made since he already lived an active lifestyle. Upon reflection, I wondered if therapeutic touch could have helped lower the anxiety my patient was experiencing.

Overall, I am a work in progress that continues to enhance in my basic and advanced skills day by day. I believed I am getting better and I will continue to practice until I am a master piece. Honestly, I feel comfortable entering the counseling field after learning many techniques and tools that will help me grow as a counselor.

This year I feel the level of difficulty changed throughout the entire year. Some assignments were easy for me but in some other writing projects I had a some trouble coming up with what to write. I feel I was pushed as a writer, I had to use multiple different things in my writing. All in all I am satisfied with my writing. I got some really good grades on papers that I was proud of.

One of the most significant events in my life that I would have handed differently now since studying the information covered in chapter five “Thinking Critically and Creatively” was when I attend a private university for the first time. Personally growing up in a small town was definitely a disadvantage when I moved away from home for the first time to a big city. I was super excited to start my new life in a big college town away from controlling parents. I finally felt like I could breath for the first time. However, I learned quickly just how unprepared I really was for harsh reality of college. Within a few weeks I found myself extremely overwhelmed with a heavy course load, long work hours to pay tuition and board and I was all alone

I'm a senior at beatrice high school i'm in welding two and woods two and building construction i'm in advanced conditioning to help better myself physically. I hope to join the military or go into the field of construction .I like fishing and hunting. I moved around a lot when I was little I lived in Beatrice and Pickrell and Blue springs and back to Beatrice.

Embarrassment and humility usually have a negative underlying tone towards the person who has experienced it. It makes the person feel awkward, self-conscious and think “why me?” However, in my situation, while I did experience embarrassment that made me feel self-conscious and ashamed, it made me more confident and open-minded. It all started one day, in my senior year of high school…

The very first essay we had to write in the beginning of the semester was a narrative essay on any topic of our choosing. I chose to share about how I met my best friend and a couple other friends while we were in middle school. My experience writing that essay was very meaningful on my heart and made me appreciate our friendship even more. I enjoy narrative essays because your open to just let everything flow with little restrictions. I could tell my story how I wanted too.