Personal Narrative-Traumatic Conflicts

that we're conditioned to not ask questions and have been marginalized into this as our only source of news .

A couple of years ago, one night, I was about to propose to my girlfriend before an nfl game tbh, when my roommate Joseph barged into the room out of nowhere, tripped and fell over, breaking a glass table with his face. Totally ruined the mood. Now, I didn't know Joseph THAT well, don't even remember where he was from, but let' just say I put my plans on hold to help him through his injuries.Joseph had gotten a big glass shard in his eye, making him completely blind in that eye. He was walking around with one of those cotton pads on his eye for a couple of months. Then suddenly, he disappeared, along with my girlfriend .Apparently they'd bonded during the time after his injuries, and eloped together , left me behind without as much as a note.

When I was a child, I moved around quite a bit. It became hard to get attached to places because we were never assured that the sacred spots would be ours for much longer. As I got older, however, I have realized that special places do not have to be dictated by a length of time, and allowing myself to fall in love with a place gave me the roots I had been searching for. While I have not lived in Indiana for several years now, there is something about this certain cluster of trees in Indiana that remain special to me. When I was a child, I saw them as the gateway into Narnia, and during the winter snows I would bundle up in my cheap fur coat my mother bought at a consignment shop and run outside searching for Mr. Tumnus and calling myself Lucy. My imagination gave me the ability to bring the characters I loved so dearly to life. This experience has shown me that providing children with the ability to use their imagination not only provides entertainment, but also allows children to have a safe outlet to cope with traumatic situations, make

Well, I would have to say you’re doing good job of hiding it because I don’t think anyone else knows besides me, and you have my word I won’t tell anyone. Can I ask you about it or is that a no zone? How are you feeling tonight? The reason why I told you about me is because that was the first time in a long time that I had a full-blown PTSD problem come up and I felt I needed to explain myself because I directed my anger out on you and I don’t want you think, I am someone who I am not. That day I hit a low point that came with consequences, but I believe I brushed myself off and moved past it for now.

My whole life, I had always thought that people reacted the same way I did in stressful situations, and the people around me experienced emotions and thoughts the same way. The realization that I overreacted and suffered immensely because of it made me feel isolated and seemed daunting, as if I would never understand or be able to fight the feeling of hopelessness that overwhelmed my system.

I’ve been trudging along for what seems like hours. I lost count of my steps sometime after my car broke down. When I look around all I see is an almost tangible grey curtain hiding everything except for a small segment of the highway. As I look forward the dark grey of the asphalt blends into the fog. I have no Idea what time it is when the fog rolled in my phone died. Without a clock, any length of time seems to go on forever, especially when the sun is hiding behind the fog. I just something I don’t understand about my situation, there has been no change in light since the fog rolled in. Same brightness the whole time. It’s almost like it’s not that I can’t tell time is passing. It’s that time isn’t passing, but that’s impossible.

Passing the end of the cold winter, Cherry blossoms and flowers are blooming. We were sitting under the flower rain. It was spring.

One of the greatest life skills that you can attain is to always double check! I unfortunately had to learn this lesson the hard way. Even though obstacles come up, you can always learn from them. In this certain situation, my brother David and I thought that we did something when in reality we didn't.

My career was finally looking up, I was working as a senior accountant with multiple multi-million accounts, full-cycle, I finally finished my Bachelor’s degree. I even purchased my first home and bought a new car! Then, it happened, I found out I was going to be a mom. I was excited, and terrified at the same time, I even took parenting classes! I had no idea how to do the formula thing and diapers? Yeah… ok.

It was an oppressively hot and humid day (as usual) at Academy at the Lakes, and Mrs. Starkey was giving a tour to a group of august looking potential investors for the next fundraiser. As she approached the ‘infamous’ Room M-32, she began to feel nervous, and she began to speculate about the devastating possibilities, an idiosyncratic habit of hers. With sweat in her hand, she grabbed the door handle, and she, reluctantly, opened the door. Utter chaos. There were mad kids screaming at each other, and kids hitting each other; the class behaved like a stochastic fractal. Some kids were severely injured with broken bones and traumatizing hits to the head, and other kids were defenestrated. Mrs. Frizzle was out of school (so was the magical school bus), but her students were still in the classroom.

Dealing with adversity and seemingly impossible challenges determines a central lesson I have learned in my life. In early childhood, I experienced severe brain injuries and a life­threatening coma caused by a major car accident. In the following years, I struggled with dyslexia, learning deficits, and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. From 1994 to 2004, I faced a major family crisis due to the bankruptcy of my parents’ business, followed by a decade of financial uncertainty. Despite all difficulties, I enrolled in college and dealt with the accumulated stress in trauma therapy from 2008 to 2010. During this time, I also ran a successful web design and hosting company and learned first-hand about the importance of strategic positioning.

Scarred for life is a saying that is proven to be truthful. I took the fall that scarred my shoulder to look like the inside of a bitten strawberry. It was a hot blazing 90-degree weather at Ponotoc High School Track and Field. Sweat dripped from my face and onto the track as I stretched and prepared for the 4x200 meter relay race. This was the track meet that determined if we made it to state to compete in the championships. Our relay team was number one in 4A District over all the teams in Mississippi therefore, we were anticipated to win. I headed back to the tent to grab my bright red back that I saw from a distance that weighed a ton. I started to move things around swiftly and in a panicked matter searching for my track spikes. I started to open my eyes wider as if I could zoom them in on my bag. I realized I left my track spikes back at school in my

Growing up, I lived in a small community where poverty was an issue. Within the low-income community, drugs, crime, and education lacked. There were many people unemployed, lacked health coverage, and financially unstable. One of the major issues in the community was the use of illegal drugs. The substances damaged people's lives, due to addiction. The drugs included heroin, marijuana, and cocaine; the list can go on and on. From future football players to basketball players, I watched all these superstars turned their lives upside down. I watched players that had the privilege to play for top universities lose their scholarships because of the use of illegal substances. I even watched one of my own, my uncle.

Do you want to know what's happening with me? Let me tell you this, without taking alcohol. I've been through hell. Yes, it is real hell. I can't even spend my day without thinking about how can I get through this ride nor spend my night without even crying. I was really depressed that I can't even stand up on my own. I don't even want to go out in my room. I've called a lot of friends, including you, but no one even bothered to ask me how I feel or how was I doing. In short, no one even cares. I can't blame them because I know I'm not their priority. I just sit my ass on the corner asking God why is this happening. You don't know a single thing yet you like you know everything. So please, just stop slapping every shit on my face like you know

I have had a long, drawn-out pain in my life. It’s been festering like a hidden sliver in my thumb. I prefer not to touch it. No matter how much I try to ignore it, the swelling ache continues to annoy me. A broken relationship that refuses to mend in isolation. My offender chose to part ways without reconciliation and now the thought of contacting this person fills me with anxiety. The anxiety of rejection, a fear of what they might say, a concern on what the Holy Spirit might ask of me. I have spent much of the passing years frustrated at the person, reliving the painful acts and words that spewed from their mouth.