Personal Narrative : Personal Essay

I was ten, the most terrifying event I had been through was riding the little dragon roller coaster at the fair, but that night changed it all. The fear that started in my head spread like wildfire to the rest of my body from the tips of my fingers to the bottoms of my toes. My heart was racing so fast that it could have beat Usain Bolt in a 100m dash. Stop, drop and roll, three steps that should have come naturally, but instead I froze, looked down at my yellow and black checkered flannel in complete terror, fearing for my life.

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.

Confidence isn’t everything, right? Wrong. Okay maybe it’s not EVERYTHING, but I believe that confidence is something everyone needs. Being able to appear strong and content with yourself to just about anyone and everything out there is key to even the slightest bit of success.

There are two types of people in this world: those who take risks and those who think about it but do not. The people who take risks are the ones who make a difference in the world. The people who remain sedentary want to but they do not act. They tell themselves that they will do it tomorrow and they think they have time “for a hundred indecisions” (Prufrock). But humans are not immortal and it is time that fact is realized. People should live life to the fullest by taking risks because that is how life is measured.

I’m surrounded by expected actions and bouncing basketballs. I had not yet found my true calling, though many around me have, whether it be basketball, cheerleading, the adrenaline of running past you’re competition they all had found something to drive them. It took me a year to find what I was truly passionate about and now that I am recollecting on it I’m obsessed with it, the overwhelming intensity that I am overcome with when I touch a volleyball. The first year of volleyball was rough, I enjoyed the fast-paced adrenaline when those fervent seconds turned into minutes and minutes into hours, but I didn’t have the skill required to continue to pursue the goals I set for myself. But I kept grinding, always practicing, always finding some way to include some sort of training into my daily endeavors like studying in intervals and rewarding myself with some technique training,

Despite growing up in a family of musicians and having played music my entire life, I didn’t learn about my exceptional ear until quite recently. During a guitar lesson sophomore year, my instructor and I were watching a music video on YouTube. I’d never seen it before, so he was quite shocked when I told him the exact tuning the guitarist was in – all by ear.

The sun sat on top of the distant mountains ready to mark the end of the day, and I was still driving along the long narrow road. Pines trees gathered on each side, and I deeply breathed in the refreshing forest air. The sweet butterscotch smelling sap that oozed out of the trees every spring lingered through my rolled down window. I was on my way to my mother’s house, which I should have been at hours ago but my alarm clock didn’t wake me from the deep slumber I was having.

Somewhere in the middle east, the sun is displaying exhibiting its full capabilities potential, producing temperatures well over beyond one hundred degrees. While I am standing guard, a motorcyclist is approaching me at a dangerous speed.The dare-devil motorcyclist defying the laws of gravity, weaving maneuvering in and out of traffic, tires gripping grappling dirt with every compound of rubber, and creating enough G-force to rattle stationary vehicles he is passing, exhaust screaming screeching in shear pain agony. Straight hauling-ass. The motorcyclist has a curious cargo carrier that is strapped to his thigh, and most motorcyclists on the streets travel with a carrier on the bike’s frame. He is ignoring the translated warning sign on the back of my vehicle that reads “CAUTION STAY ONE HUNDRED METERS BACK, OR YOU WILL BE SHOT.”

Today is my mother’s birthday. November 17th. I am not sure how old she is turning. This time last year I was in the process of moving and the year before that I was in the process of staying afloat so forgive me, Mother, if I age you up a bit in my mind. Your bubbly child still loves you despite never getting you a real gift other than the hand turkeys from 3rd grade. But, maybe that’s where this started. Maybe my third grade was the grade when I realized hand turkeys can’t conjure up love out of everyone.

It ended up making me feel vulnerable. I spent so much time building up my outer shell so that no one could hurt me, but it wasn’t enough. I ended up giving a piece of myself to that person, a piece that I can never get back. The first time I realized I loved someone was long after they had disappeared from my life, and it made me question the true validity of my feelings. How could someone who hurt me so badly still cross my mind so often?

It was a hot and arid afternoon in June 2000 in Pakistan. People and animals alike sought refuge in the shade. I sat taking notes under an old oak tree in the middle of town, absorbing the writing on the chalkboard propped up on an easel. Despite the fact that I grew up in a culture where a fourteen-year-old boy is expected to join the physically-demanding workforce to provide for his family, I had already reached my personal zenith of the time; learning and acquiring knowledge. This classroom of a handful of students and a teacher was the biggest luxury of my life. It eventually led to one of the most significant achievements of my life: being the first-generation college graduate.

“No Bervelynn, you cannot do this and certainly not go to that”. I would hear this phrase more than my name it was unbelievable. My parents were much overprotected they always confined me to the house. That was their way of preventing me from interacting with society and the real world. They were terrified at the thought of me having sex, doing drugs, getting killed, or ending up pregnant. They wanted me to be away from negativity as much as possible. But at that point in time, I had no idea what any of those things were. I was just a young girl, who dreamed of becoming a cheerleader, going to basketball games and Disney world. No matter how much I wished to go out and do guileless things it was always a NO. I often found myself to be confused and dispirited. I became very insecure and unsure of myself. I no longer knew who I was; therefore, I started trying to be just like other people. I dressed how they dressed, spoke how they spoke, and acted how they acted. I tried so hard to fit in. I had this crazy thought that maybe this will make me feel “superior” to other, but boy was I wrong! Unpleasant things kept happening to me because of it. My peers started to realize that I was putting up an act. I started getting brutally bullied daily. A girl even pulled my wig off once, in front of everyone, because they knew that my hair was fake. I had never been so embarrassed in my whole life. After that incident, I began lying to my parents and started skipping school. It

touching all the red, wet, eczema above my eyes. “Come on!” my brother screamed. It

Don’t speak. Don’t say a word. You are too ugly to be smart. You should wear makeup. Just kidding, even makeup won’t help That. Why are you so ugly.

Throughout my life the outdoors has always been prominent. I grew up in the White Mountains of New Hampshire where my family would spend weekends hiking through the The Great Gulf. My earliest memories are of being held snug within a backpack carrier exploring the trails. Trying to see as much around me as I could past my mothers head. That sense of exploration and adventure only grew larger within me as I became older. Weekends would continue to be spent up in the mountains or out by the coast of Maine. Along the way I found a deep appreciation for the National Forests around me.