Personal Narrative: The Panic

Growing up with a father in the military, you move around a lot more than you would like to. I was born just east of St. Louis in a city called Shiloh in Illinois. When I was two years old my dad got the assignment to move to Hawaii. We spent seven great years in Hawaii, we had one of the greatest churches I have ever been to name New Hope. New Hope was a lot like Olivet's atmosphere, the people were always friendly and there always something to keep someone busy. I used to dance at church, I did hip-hop and interpretive dance, but you could never tell that from the way I look now.

I chose to break the norm of either smiling at strangers or giving them a neutral look when you make eye contact. I decided to give every stranger I passed a confused look like they had just spoken to me in another language. I must admit, this made me feel a bit goofy. I was on the fence as to whether or not to do this in the first place but I decided I just had to. The responses I received were quite comical. A few people asked if I was alright, and one person even asked if I had a problem with them.

It was the day of the surgery, I was so nervous that I could have passed out at any moment from my anxiety. I felt sicker then I had in years, I would have thrown up if I had had any food to eat in the past twenty-four hours. When me and my family got to the hospital my anxiety went up another level and I was practically shaking, the smell of all the chemicals they use wasn’t helping my nausea any either. When I was in the room getting ready for surgery I was overwhelmed with what was about to happen so I ended up confiding in my mom that

Whenever I’m in a waiting room for something such as a doctor’s appointment, or a dentist's, I can’t help but be overcome by a sense of anxiety, even if I know for sure that all I’m there for is a simple check up. Perhaps it’s just the thought of all the worse things that I could have potentially gone there for, such as a shot that I would have to get on my arm, or in my mouth for some dental procedure. So when I sat in the waiting room of the orthodontist building where I was to get my wisdom teeth out, I felt terrified.

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

I am an introvert. I value my personal space and I need my alone time. I haven’t had much of either ever since I moved into my dorm at the University of Georgia two weeks ago. Every day has been a combination of classes, errands, and friends. This isn’t a complaint. I love the freedom and figuring out how to handle more responsibility. I love being around other people and having friends that are always up to watching something on Netflix or playing a game. But everyone needs a break. The first two weeks have been a rush but there hasn’t been a moment to just pause and take in everything that has happened so far.

On this day two years ago I felt like something freaky was going to happen like the lights were going to go out and something was going to scare me. During that time my brother “Matthew” and I were in the house watching the Cavs play when our lights automatically shut off for no reason. 20 minutes later when the lights finally turned back on Matthew and I went slowly out of the bedroom and we saw a note that was stuck to the door with duct tape that said in all caps “RUN” and when Matthew and I saw it we didn’t run because we needed to see what was going on.

High school. The place where your supposed to find yourself, determine who you are and who you want to be. Some people take this opportunity for good and some take it for granted. Those who abuse this opportunity end up broken and lost and they never find their true self’s till they have lost everything they ever thought they had.

Cause we're scared to see each other with somebody else” - Drake ‘Doing It Wrong’

I have never had a real tough life. I don’t have abusive parents, problems with money all the time or anything like that. You could say, looking from the outside, my life is pretty basic and it really is.The problems I do go through lie within my head.

Yes, I did encounter a problem early in my career when I was a licensed practical nurse (LPN). I had one-year experience as an LPN and was working on an oncology unit where functional nursing (task nursing) was utilized. Consequently, there was this charge nurse (CN) named Candy, whom I liked, because she was a short, friendly, plumped, energetic and beautiful long red hair. She seemed knowledgeable in her field and I had a lot of respect for her. Thereby, realizing her knowledge base, I often utilized her as a resource person to provide me with the correct policy and procedures. Also, she was friends with the director of nursing, the unit secretary, and one of the supervisors.

189 people died out of 200 people who stayed in the hotel. There were only ten survivors from my school and 90 people have died. The cause of the accident was poor construction, but there was no one who took over the responsibilities. The government promised to give all the students to a choice of choosing a university and they said they will support us until we get a proper job.

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.

Cliché, as defined by the Oxford English Dictionary, can be a “stereotyped expression, a commonplace phrase; also, a stereotyped character, style, etc.” (OED, n. 3.a.). We often use and hear numerous phrases that classifies as a cliché. I am one of the guilty many that scoffs at and mumbles “Ugh” under my breath, accompanied by an exaggerated rolling of the eyes every time these worn out expressions are used. However, as I sit here in the dark, laughing at myself with my dog at my side, I cannot help but realize that I am about to use a cliché: “you can’t judge a book by its cover”; I am all of the brilliant pages inside a tattered cover book.

The pain hurts so bad, like a sharp pain down my leg every time I try to run. It's hard, running is my passion and I can't even do that! Even walking is hard, a numb pain just there waiting to become stronger. So that pain in my leg while I try to walk to class and think of what the word cephalopod means for my lovely biology test to keep my mind off my leg. Then, of, course stupid Tristan O'Brien had to slam into me and knock my lovely organized notes all over the floor.