Personal Narrative: My Relapse

I feel a sense of calmness wash over me. My thoughts are peaceful and positive. I am confident and capable. I sleep a deep, healing sleep. I wake in the morning refreshed and renewed.

For my 28-day experiential exercise I was determined to renounce sweets and pastries. I have been trying to lose weight for some time, which I have been successful, however I gave up sweets id loose much more weight. I have been able to lose a substantial amount of weight but it has taken me some time. But, because I love sweets, it had become impossible for me to reach my goal. Before starting this experiment, I would say that I was addicted to sweets such as pastries, macarons, milk-shakes, ice creams, and cake.

It’s been a year since the incident. Everyone is either gone or is trying to leave but the wealthy who are isolated from the rest of the nation, living large. We all thought it was possible, but no one thought it would actually happen. We didn’t think this country would run itself so far into the ground that it is beyond recovery. No one thought he could do this. Tuesday, November 8, 2016. The day it all started, the day he came to power. Everyone was either watching it happen live or asleep in their beds. Once morning came it was official, he became our president.

You knew he was toxic. But that was probably why you kept coming back. Every time you make the decision to leave him, his charm still manages to capture your heart, imploring you to come back to him. Just one word, one touch was all it took.

What I’m about to type was done late at night on random days with little to no spell check. So if I write something and it makes no sense at all, please let me know and I’d be happy to explain.

I come from a developing Country myself, which always required for growing the Country. My Family are already refugees from Isreal. I have worked in the seconed biggest refugee camp in the world ( Zaatri Refugee Camp in Jordan since it started chronichally with the syrian crisis with Morethanshelters , teir tents and move their tents and they were reseilent enough to come up with a way to help them carry on with this hardship life and live in a Caravan or a makeshift camp in Jordan. I am an advior for Urbancore which is a Danish start up that Goal is to help refugees and less foutunates to build up their living. We work with archaticts to find the best ways to establish a difnity of living through our Project that will be in Jordan. I am applying

My personal goals are centered on healing. In this world of decreasing resources and increasing and ever diverse populations, there are unmet needs, confusions, and misunderstandings—the very stuff of conflicts and wars. It has been my experience and observation that what the world (and especially me) needs most is a transformation that involves healing, which I believe can lead to a greater measure of peace. That is to say, I have come from a heritage that is troubled with addictions and the abuse and generational cycles of violence that so often accompany addictions. However, I am a survivor, and I continually strive to go forward healing from this past. In time, I came to acknowledge my need for skills in conflict transformation and peace

I try not to post negative things as I learned long ago to do my best to stay positive many of you have no idea what I’ve been through in my life but things have turned out very well my main reason for posting this is that during my therapy today I seen a little girl come in she was about five or six years old and I’m not sure what therapy they had to do on her but I could hear her scream to the top of her lungs about every 30 seconds for almost a half an hour when my therapist came back he seen that I was crying and ask what the issue was when I told him it was difficult to hear what the little girl had to go through and then I was just praying for that girl and when the girl left they said see you next week and my heart just sunk knowing

Like I mentioned in earlier chapters, I am in recovery. I have to figure out how to pick up the pieces and become the best me. I let the bullying dictate how my life was going to be. Physically there was a lot of damage. My hair started coming out in clumps, I gained a significant amount of weight. I lost my mojo and became a person I am not very happy with. I asked myself every day for months: “How do you turn this around?” To be completely honest I am still figuring it out. I lost a large part of my identity. My best friend was such an influential piece of me. We were known together as a pair. Then we have leadership, this would have been my third year in the program. I am a little lost without it. I am going to be a senior. This is my swan

My depression is not YOUR depression. Your thoughts are not the same as MY thoughts. Your behavior has nothing to do with MY behavior. Your body does not feel the same as MY body. YOUR solution to the problem is yours not mine, nothing works the same way for everyone. You have no clue what I go through, the emotions that drown me, they may share the same label or name but they are not the same. You speak to me as if you know? What do you know? You only know your own experience, thoughts, moods and how they are drowning you, not me. People are quick to just speak without any real emotion or thought behind their gibberish. My mind is my home and your mind is your home; they may share the same structure and/or materials used to build that home but they are setup completely differently, understand yet?

I’ve recently submitted my previous reports of my withdrawals from the two courses that resulted poorly along with medical reports. Recently, I’m doing a poor job on a certain class due to the late recovery at the end of the semester. I am aware of my withdrawal limit reached. It was a difficult semester as I was struggling with no official documentation to register for the Students with Disabilities Services. Because of my mental condition from the previous year and wasn’t provided from my difficult mother, led me to make the choice to consult again with a psychologist from the University. After my second consultation, and he provided me a medical to send for review. After this semester, I’m going to go for summer term by selecting non-difficult

Every morning I wake up at the same time, eight thirty with a hangover or a headache. It depends on the fiance. If he gets a fifth, drinking it is, if he comes home with an attitude, headache. I get up, take pain killers, start coffee for Phillip and I, shower, get my coffee, wake Phillip up and, well, get to morning business with him. Ten minutes later, Phillip and I get dressed and get in the car. "Kayla! You drive like a fucking idiot!" he screamed, closing his bloodshot eyes. I know he's high, I am only driving fifty miles per hour. My phone was ringing, i looked at it, but my eyes shifted, I refuse to pick up my phone while driving. It's the right thing, 'Stay Alive. Don't text and Drive', say so, say so. After a few seconds I look at

For my SAE, I decided to volunteer at New Leash On Life. I started volunteering on November 6th, 2016. If you are under 16, you have to have a parent with you the first time you volunteer, so I had my mom come with me. On my first day, I was told to go walk, and socialize with the dogs. I love dogs, so I was up for the job. I ended up walking almost all of the dogs. My favorites were probably Cara, a black lab and border collie mix, Kahlan, a black and white papillon mix, and Milly, a lab and pit bull mix. After walking the dogs with my mom, we were told to do dishes.

Tears stream down my face as I sing out my sufferings, the climax of the song breaking through my heart and leaving me vulnerable. Releasing all my demons on one note, one song, one poem. I speak though music in a way that no amount of talking would ever be able to.

As dawn began to approach, on the 22nd day of September 2016, my father followed his path directly for his bedroom. Normally we would sit and talk about our days, and complain about how hard life is. That month was nothing but a cold silence that rang through the house as the garage doors shut. Today was the day that my father would tell us the truth. At the time our family and I were attending a church in Decatur. We had been members for over 10 years, and it was all going to come to a complete halt. Emerging from his room, my father had a blank stare on his face. A look that I would never forget. He began to inch forward and call us all to the dinner table. The topic of conversation began with a sudden burst of tears, and my mother reaching