Personal Narrative: The Traumas That Changed My Life

On September 2nd 2016 my best friend, Ashley Minor, who is a single mom of two, was working her twelve house shift at the hospital. At the end of her shift her life stopped for a short time when she received a phone call that her 8 year old son Teagan, was hit by a car, and had multiple injuries.

I sat in my father’s office for a while, thinking of reasons why he would mention those girls. ‘Maybe he was trying to make me jealous’ I kept telling myself. The longer I sat there the more I couldn't get him out of my mind. His adorable smile, incredible hair and his gorgeous face. Soon the excitement of seeing his astonishing face again rushed through my body. I hurried to my room, threw my closet doors open and flipped through every piece of clothing I owned until I decided on the perfect dress. I chose to wear my favorite dress from Barneys, it was red with flowers and rather flattering.

“Even after the genealogist documented everything I still had my doubts. I thought the patient could have just as easily used the same fact-finding techniques to come up with their story. What I couldn’t understand was why they would go to such lengths. What was the

Everyone can remember the one decision that changed their life forever. For myself, that decision was to join a swim team. I can remember the one morning when my mom asked me if I wanted to join the team, and I said yes. I did not know it then, but that choice would impact the rest of my life. From that decision I have learned persistence, leadership, and motivation and these qualities will help shape my life forever. I decided to join the team because I wanted to try something new, something exciting, and I had no idea how much of an impact it would have on my life. From my choice, I have learned many qualities that will help determine, shape, and give me an edge for the rest of my life.

I slipped my jacket back on and looked in the mirror and realized that I would look good if I combed my hair. My sleeves ran past my hands so I rolled the cuffs up, and ran down stairs and hugged my mom like there was no life left in her “Thank you!” I screamed. I sprinted outside with my new style of hair and jacket. As I was outside I tried to avoid my hungry dog, so I could show everyone how cool I was in my new slick jacket. As I sat on the fence daydreaming about my jacket, two cool kids walked over to me and invited me to hang out with there group of friends at school. At that moment, I knew my jacket held a great future for me.

Bright and early Wednesday morning all I heard was, “wake up it is time to go.” It was eight in the morning and all I wanted to do was go back to sleep. However, I got up, brushed my teeth and took a shower, because prom was only a day away. The primary place I needed to go to was the shoe store because it was the only item I’m missing. Nyoka took me to this other shoe store she was familiar with. I watched from a distance as she picks up these gorgeous heels. They were this shiny silver with peals on

My first pair of black patent leather buckle shoes were so shiny. I was wearing cotton socks with lace trim that day. It was my first day of school; kindergarten. We were all sitting on the floor listening to Miss Bronk read us the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Her voice was fading off in the distance as I played with the buckles on my brand new shiny shoes. I nearly jumped out of my skin when Miss Bronk harshly spoke my name. "Take your shoes off and bring them to me." She said. I just hung my head in shame. I was so embarrassed to be called out in class like that. I peeked at her though the tears in my eyes; Miss Bronk got up out of her chair and towered above me. "Give me the shoes!" she said. Unbuckling my shoes, I slipped them off my feet and handed them to her. I spent the rest of that day in school without my shoes. I never saw my pretty shoes again. After school that day I was standing out on the school portico waiting for the bus to come pick us up to take us home. I stood in line in my white cotton socks with lace tops. The kids made fun of me because I didn 't have shoes. I didn 't have nice clothes either, like the other kids did; mine were bought off the chubby girl rack at Sears and Roebuck. I didn 't have one friend. Somehow I continued to go to kindergarten for the rest of the school term. Miss Bronk never mentioned my shoes when we had our party on the last day of school. We had cupcakes and milk that day. It was fun, but I didn 't know anyone.

When I saw the girl in the yellow sweater, I was first embarrassed because we wore the same thing. I looked down at my outfit and thought if only I had worn something different today. I thought back to that morning when I was picking out my outfit for the day. I looked at the back of my closet, in the back are the clothes I thought so much much about, the clothes I wish I would wear. The dark colored cardigans, the vintage style clothes, all just sitting there. Waiting to be worn, the clothes yearning to be worn, but

Dress shopping was not the way I had planned to spend that Friday. Stores full of self-obsessing girls who have a false idea of how an artificially composed article of clothing can boost their confidence or make a night “one-to-remember”. I wanted to be a part of this but I was unsure if I still wanted to go; however, I got myself into this. We were driving on the interstate in my girlfriend’s grandfather’s truck. Zaina (my girlfriend) had allowed me to come with her mother and little brother to what I thought was going to be the longest day of my life! The entire time in the car I was crammed into the bucket seats in the back of the truck, where I could hear the suspension making funny creaking sounds and that something was very wrong with the transmission. Regardless of the situation we were having a blast: the sun was shining, the Red-Hot Chili Peppers were on the radio, and it was a beautiful seventy-five-degree day in Northern Illinois.

Growing up, I never really had a favorite anything. I didn’t have a favorite cartoon character that I was “obsessed” with, as most children around the age of eight are. I didn’t have a favorite outfit or shoes that I wanted to wear to just about any occasion. Although I did have a favorite food, mac-and-cheese, when it came to things like that it was just whatever I liked, I wanted. One day my mom and I were going shopping with my aunt. It was sunny outside so I wore some faded jean shorts, a striped pink and black tank top, and my black and pink Heely’s. My mom had on a pair of jeans, a black T-shirt, and some black Michael Kors flip flops. It was a 25-minute drive from my house to Sawgrass Mills Mall so I fell asleep on the ride there. My aunt met us at the front of the mall. As we walked in, you could feel the temperature change. There were people walking everywhere. I could even see some people sitting and getting massages because they’ve probably been walking around all day. You could hear some people on the phone, some just having friendly conversations with people they probably didn’t even know, and even a baby crying. We had been in the mall for about an hour and wasn’t even halfway through the building. Went in a few clothing and shoe stores and left with at least three bags. The last shoe store we went into was Footlocker which is where I got a pair of pink Nikes. When walking out of the store, we could hear the voices of children coming from next door so we went

"Honey, I'm done packing the stuff!" My mom called from the car. She left the door swinging wide open, so it was easy for me to hear her. I threw in my clothes and just about everything I owned into my three suitcases. "What am I forgetting? I know there's something I'm missing." I muttered to myself. Crap. All my toiletries. All of them. I raced to the bathroom and grabbed the bag barely noticing it. "Coming!" I shouted, practically jumping down three, four steps at a time. "Oh, sweetie. You look gorgeous." My mom cooed. I looked down at my yellow, short, summer dress with pink, red, and, orange flowers on it. I gave her a smile.

We left the shop, a burst of the air blew in my face. What was once a burning hot, August day, became a nice, cool breeze with a sunset in the background. The air seemed fresher than it had before. I was dressed in my new Ariel dress Mom had bought for me in the store. We stopped in front of the store, where we were supposed to be meeting my Dad. I looked across the street and a yo-yo show had started. Mom noticed me watching and decided to watch as well. She held my hand and smiled.

I approached the white marbled store with hesitant steps. “Boys aren’t allowed in here”, I thought to myself. The bright pinks and neon colors were shinning from across the street almost illuminating themselves. Colors shown in my eyes that can only be described as bold and intrusive. If they had matte or subtle colors, they were not displaying them. The black skinny letters, highlighted with a glow of light, sprawled on the entrance said “Victoria’s Secret”, but it might as well have been a club house sign saying “no boys allowed”. I was making strides where no gay man had been before. What reason would I have for Victoria’s Secret? Not only am I not a woman, but I’m not even into them. Before I entered I pondered what would be behind the tall glass doors outlined with metallic silver, “Maybe they have meetings about the best tampons, or talking about the strife involved in birthing”. I was sure I was intruding onto a very private place where I wasn’t supposed to be. Thank goodness I had Erin, my auburn haired friend with me. With her long flowing fiery hair, blossoming black tweed dress, and emerald green eyes, she looked the part of a girl who’d be allowed into this private cave of women. If anyone tried to kick me out, I could just scapegoat her and say “I’m just here with her”.

It was a sunny morning in California. It was also my 15th birthday. I got out of bed and did my morning routine. I opened my closet to choose what I should wear today. I found a dress that was white until your stomach and then was purple with an flow free bottom.I matched some white flats with my dress and headed downstairs. I greeted my mom “Good morning mom.” I noticed that dad was nowhere nearby. “Mom where 's dad ?” “ Honey something urgent came up so your dad had to step out.How about we get

I never forgot those jeans. Their image became ingrained in my eyes and I began noticing them more in my daily life. Grandmothers at the park, holding the hands of small children, middle-aged women pushing shopping carts at Target.