Personal Narrative: Nothingness

In chapter three it explains why your thought make you feel depress. “Every bad feeling you have is the result of your distorted negative thinking” (Burns, 1980, p. 28). It is feeling of beeng trap in negativity and emptyness. As I have mentioned in the past, I work at the Dollar General as a cashier. Lately, they ask me if I wanted to become a lead, I was surprise that they choose me, because I fell that I am not good for that position. The reason I mentioned this situation again is because as I was reading this chapter, I notice that all the “definition of cognitive distortion” applied to this circumstances:

You could tell my brother was screaming as much as he could with his small little lungs. I quickly ran over to our tiny bathroom wondering what was going on. There you could see my little brother using all his force to hold up my mom who had fainted on our cement floor. Even with the two of us repeatedly yelling at her to wake up, her eyes stayed closed. I began to really worry. I ran over to her bedroom and scurried through my blanket looking for my phone. As my sister dialed 9-1-1, I ran back into the bathroom where my brother was sobbing. My sister had already called my aunts and cousins over. They were all trying to help wake her up. They called out her name multiple times. They also hovered rubbing alcohol under her nose, in hopes of her waking up. I let my brother know that everything was going to be fine and that the ambulance would be here in no time to help my mom. I was shaking as I sat next to my brother helping him hold up my mom. My older cousin took our spots and helped sit my mom up.

In 2025, I will be twenty-nine years old and hopefully married. I will be married to my significant other of ten years Earnest Palmer III, who is a dentist. I would have been recently graduating with a bachelor’s in Culinary Arts and trying to plan to open my own restaurant, BubbaD’s Eateries. Knowing my big headed husband of mine, I probably had a baby then and trying to have another baby. Hopefully, by then Earnest will get rid of the idea naming our son, King. We will be living in the suburbs near New York City but working in the city. Being a woman with great memory, I probably wrote a memoir about my crazy life and trying to sell it to a publisher. If none of the publishers wants to publish my memoir, I will probably sell it the Lifetime

From a young age, I was referred to by numerous as a difficult child. Everywhere I went I would constantly be boisterous and disruptive. Of course, I didn’t act disruptive intentionally, I simply couldn’t help saying everything that came to my mind the minute it came to me. Due to this behavior of mine, I had trouble staying involved in activities, such as sports and scouting. Without these hobbies, I had trouble fitting in with the other kids. What made this even harder was that I moved every two years, which meant I had to make new friends every two years. However, all of this changed when I moved to Huntsville, Alabama.

There I am standing alone at the top of Mount Everest. I have everything I need to go back to the bottom. I don’t use any of it. I am a soldier, and my mission is not complete. Alone, I am still not afraid. Temperature is 28 degrees, but I am not letting it affect my skills. I walk alone through the dark, eerie woods. It has been 32 hours, and I have still not completed my objective. I was sent to assassinate the leader of an military trained group. The group was out here training to intercept signal for a helicopter transporting cargo to an unknown military base in the valley of the mountain Everest. I have intercepted their signal and found out where exactly they were located. I found them, and it wasn’t an easy mission. Many

“So what does my failure at ‘Enemy Territory’, ‘Amorio’ and in the locker room have to do with us, Raab? The answer is in the word failure. At the rally, you couldn’t defeat Sally Talfourd and bring home the Vendetta Championship. Our shared inability to succeed in the moments we both desperately crave unites us.

One day, my dad was setting up my new Xbox 360. My uncle had gotten a new Xbox 1, so he gave me his old one. I was excited, because I didn't have to play on my dad’s Xbox. Then, for some reason, I called my mom an idiot. My dad HATES it when people talk like that in our house, and I know he would definitely not like it if I called my mom that. Plus, he was a little bit cranky that day. When my dad heard this, he went ballistic. He was screaming about how disrespectful that was and then he yanked out the cord`s of the Xbox from the wall. Have you ever had that feeling where you know something is going to happen and everything slows down? That is what happened to me. My dad raised the Xbox high above his head. His face was red and on his face.

More people would understand if I was in a wheelchair. Everything would be clear if I had a terminal illness or something wrong on the outside. The problem is that my wounds aren't discernible to most people. My scars aren't tangible. Instead of receiving sympathy from those I first let in, I was told to get over it. I was told that I wasn’t depressed because I have a loving family. I was told I wasn’t sad because I’m well off, because I do well in school, because I’m a guy. Despite that, I learned to find strength in my brokenness so I could make myself whole again.

My first snowboarding lesson, some 10 years ago, saw me clinging to my snowboarding instructor on a Remarkables bunny hill, sinking my nails into his jacket sleeves as if he was trying to escape. His parting words to me are still memorable to this day. “You are not cut out for this, you have no confidence, and you are too scared”. That was it for me. I refused to accept that and if they weren’t going to help me learn, I would figure it out for myself. I was determined.

It all begun when I strolled down a main street into an obsolete gas station and felt that it was somehow eerie, eerie to the queerness of having a shadow dart in front of me and disappear as fast as it emerged. I was roughly two blocks away back home when I suddenly got hit by a stiff object on the back of my head. I fell to the ground, unable to breathe evenly anymore. I gasped for air, but that didn’t seem enough. Whoever was after me was undistinguishable, I tried to gaze around but there wasn’t anything to be seen, just the sound of footsteps impending to where I stay still. I considered dashing to the nearest doorbell to seek succor, but the voice in my head overcame the sound of my fiercely throbbing heart that echoed within my ears,

I have always wanted to understand how the world works and the best way for me to do that is to take everything apart. If I can get my hands on it I will teach myself about it; if it’s too large or expensive, I will learn from watching someone else. When I was little, the best toy I could get my hands on was Legos and my favorites were the technic series. They had all the moving parts with gears, pneumatics, and other mechanics, and I got to build them so I understood how everything worked. Technic was also the first step to understanding bigger things because they build the mechanical part as accurately as possible. This let me better understand the hidden parts like the moving pistons in the engine. On a more recent build I got to create a full

Introspection and ponderance devolved into a turbulence of chaos as the world around me was drowned out by a loud rhythmic beating, saturating the very essence of my reality. My body yearned for stimulus and motility as my restraint teetered on the cusp of failure. All sense of time was lost and what seemed like an aeon was a mere thirty-minutes. I emerged from the MRI room with a sense of confidence and optimism, but I would be dishonest to say that I was not consumed with the anxiety of anticipation.

I had everything and luck: sunrays hitting me as I was pushed in a swing,

There’s so many life changing books and artwork to choose from, but the one that influenced me the most was The Blind Side. One of my favorite books that is based on a true story, changed my life. I am not your all-star academic student, I am not gifted with powerful knowledge, but I have worked hard to get where I am. The reason behind that is because of this book. One of the things that affected me was how Michael Oher was one out of thirteen kids by his mother who was addicted to crack, nor did Michael Oher knew how to read or write. He then met a white couple that took him in, enrolled him into school and football. With his disability to not knowing how to read or write, he had poor grades, but instead of giving up, he worked harder and

A gust of cool, brisk air greeted my skin as I opened the refrigerator in search of something to eat. As I scoured the refrigerator I found a firm, juicy navel orange. As I luxuriated in the luscious treat, I flung myself down on the sofa, heaving a sigh of resignation as I opened my critical thinking book, Thinking For Yourself. As I stared at my orange, I wondered how long did it take this orange to reach the Hannaford's where my mother shops? After a google search, I found out that it takes Florida navel oranges an average of two to three days to reach their destination. Also according to a dictionary search, I realized that an orange is a globose berry with a pumpkin like hue. As I felt the cool leathery texture of the orange, I noticed