Sometimes, the biggest challenges in our lives are also what make us who we are. I know that is true about the biggest challenge in my life; being involved in too many things. I love being involved in school activities and programs but they can take a hefty toll on my sanity and stress level, my relationship with by friends and family, and how I have learned that, sometimes, it’s better just to sit back and take a break. When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I do is look at my calendar. I’ll have dance practice until five, band rehearsal for that concert we have Sunday night, homework for three AP classes, not to mention a KYA bill due next week. Sometimes, I look at it and just want to bawl. The problem is I enjoy all of my activities and can’t imagine giving any of them up. That’s generally what gets me through each week, knowing that eventually I will be rewarded for my hard work, whether that is a good grade, a winning dance competition, or being voted in to an office at one of my conferences. However, the most frustrating challenge is when my practices or events conflict. For example, some days I’ll have dance and golf and band all at the same time. It’s extremely difficult for me to choose between these, as I’m afraid of letting anyone down. Speaking of letting people down, my hoards of commitments often cause me to neglect my friends and family. My parents are divorced and my dad lives in Richmond as well as my younger brother. I hardly ever see them because, most weekends, I’ll have community service, a conference, or dance practice. Additionally, my friends often feel neglected. I hardly ever spend time with them, and, as a result, I have very few people I can call friends and even fewer who live in the same state. I do concede that I often neglect my friends for my boyfriend, who has become a very important aspect of my life, yet also has his own effect on my commitments. My relationship with my significant other has taught me many things; whether those things are good or bad is up to interpretation. I have learned that sometimes it’s okay to sit back and relax. Any of you who know me, know I am one of the most high-strung, stressed people around, and my SO has taught me that sometimes it’s okay to let go. This has had its own effect on my activities. I have had to drop some things or pay less attention to some things that are important to me. However, I’ve found that, if I take out a little time for myself each week, I am a much happier, more fulfilled person. You may ask why I chose this as my challenge. Everyone, including myself, is dealing with new challenges every day. However, I felt, through exposing my challenge with over-committing myself with you, my fellow AP students, it would help others to realize that you don’t always have to do everything perfect, and sometimes taking some time to yourself can have the biggest impact on your happiness.
I really like how you included why you chose your challenge because it really helps us connect with what you are trying to say. I might consider moving your last paragraph, or pieces of it, to the first paragraph though. -Makayla Hawkins
I really enjoyed reading your blog post. I love the use of personal examples and I think this is a fantastic post! Maybe you can schedule your time more wisely, or dropping a few activities. You could try doing one activity one day and alternating days and activities. I saw nothing wrong with the writing, but I did see a few spelling errors. Again, I really loved this post and I can relate to you a lot about being stressed! It all gets better!
I've been going to school with you for a while, and hey we aren't friends but I do understand what you mean and where you're coming from. Committing all you have to a multitude of things doesn't leave you with a lot left to reflect on in your free time. To be honest you're lucky if you have free time with all the things you dump on yourself. But you d it out of willingness and good intentions, and I'm sure you'll end up farther ahead and with more money than the rest of us can admit to gaining.
It was the summer before my freshman year of high school. For some reason, my best friend and I thought it would be a good idea to sneak out. It would be just this one time, we had never done anything bad and just wanted to feel like “normal” teenagers, because, you know, that’s what everyone else was doing. We all know what it feels like to be a rebel and get that rush of disobeying your parents. We weren’t bad kids. We followed all the rules and never got in trouble at school. We were just looking for a little trouble to get into for once. We wanted to feel cool, be like everyone else, so that’s just what we did… or tried to do. I had gone over to her house during the day that day, nothing out of the ordinary because we were always together. Soon after her parents went to bed, we started getting ready, getting nervous. We were in it as long as one of us didn’t back out. I, of course, wasn’t going to back out. But, I was secretly hoping she was going to. A couple hours passed and we started going down the stairs from her bedroom, hoping her parents weren’t going to wake up, and out the back door we went! Everything was going smooth… except for the dog! We had forgotten all about the dog and you would never guess what the dog was doing, barking. Not only was her dog barking but the neighbors across the street’s dogs were barking. That was it, we sprinted back into the house, terrified her parents were going to be awake, thankfully they weren’t, we were in the clear. After we got back into her room, we started talking and decided we were going to try this again next week with a better plan. We trusted each other, so the next week we were at it again! This night was a little different, though. She had told her mom that her dog had been scratching the basement window while she was down there and that maybe they should keep the dog in the garage that night. I didn’t think this idea was going to work, but it did. Her mom went and put the dog up for the night. I couldn’t believe this was actually working. Besides the dog, everything was going exactly like it was the last time. This was it. Parents in bed; get ready, wait a little to make sure they were still asleep and out the back door we went. It was humid and the grass was wet when we left. After we made it out of her front yard, with no dogs barking, there was no turning back. So we started walking, our friend’s house (which we were going to) was maybe ten minutes away once we got off her street and we were making good progress. As we were walking we saw this car slowing down. You know in movies when kids aren’t supposed to be doing something they usually end up dying? Well, this was going through my head. Next thing I know this car is stopped and getting out, I was terrified. We were good kids, other kids do this all the time and get back home safe and sound, but of course, my luck, I was about to die. I had no idea what to do so I got on the phone with my friend and she decided she was going to act like she was looking for her lost puppy. As this person got out of their car, they just looked at their front tire and then left. I’d never been so relieved in my life, I seriously thought we were going to get kidnapped. We made it to our friend’s house, had a terrible time, and did make it home safe and sound. Maybe sneaking out wasn’t the best way to finally feel that feeling you get for really going behind your parents backs for once, but it’s what we did. It made me realize everything that people do my age isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be. Some things I just have to try anyway to learn my own lesson, to get that feeling every once in a while. Now, looking back at this and how embarrassing it is, I do know it changed how I choose my actions today. I hear stories and I should learn from others’ mistakes, but I can’t always learn from others. I make my own decisions and learn from my own mistakes, it just depends on if I want a big or little adventure that day.
Casey, I really enjoyed reading your story! You didn't leave out any important details, which made it easy to read. Although I would like to know more about what lesson you learned from this and if this was enough of a scare to make you never want to "sneak out" again. Thanks!
Casey, The beginning of your blog is very good. You make me feel like i already know the story by your use of diction and imagery. but, the last few sentences is kindof confusing. maybe putting it in a new paragraph would help some. -Makayla hawkins
I’m gonna talk about a change and a choice all leading to a challenge in my life. But I need to start wayyy back. Back in middle school. Basically when I was younger I was a butthead, I was rude to everyone. I didn’t notice it, I just always had a temper and a bone to pick with everyone. I was incredibly rude to all of my friends up until this year. I can talk about all of this now because I’ve been able to take a step back and see how I was acting and try to change it for the better. But Even last year I was picking on some of my own friends, who’ve been nothing but nice to me. Now I know, some of my friends are weird. But some of my friends are the kindest people you’ll sit down and talk to. If you’re willing to humor them and give them the attention and focus they need to show you that. I would always pick on one friend in particular. His name is Quentin. He’s a big guy, incredibly random, and says some of the most offensive and strange jokes. But he’s my friend, and a good friend at that, and I wouldn’t change a thing about him. You see, I’ve never gotten along with guys at all, but Quentin is just such a goodhearted friend, you wouldn’t be able to help it but want be nice to him. But that wasn’t how I felt two years ago. I would pick on him, call him names, instigate him try to make him mad. I bullied him, basically. I was an asshole. And through everything I said to him, he never once said anything back, never got openly angry, never lashed out at me. All he ever did, was be nice to me. So last year, there’s a particular moment that just made something click for me, to look back at what I’m doing and actually see it as wrong, and not jokingly anymore. Quentin, a group of friends, and I were all talking and Quentin said another one of his far-fetched jokes we’ve never heard of. In response, I said “You need to stop that dude, this is why you can’t get a girlfriend” I deserved to get the daylight knocked out of my self-righteous ass. But he just turned around and walked away. I was told later that I had gone too far by a mutual friend, and I said I didn’t know what they were talking about. They told me what he had said to them, and how he was stressed out, crying, he felt no one wanted him around. Well I felt like shit to say the least. I went to apologize to him later that day, and he explained to me how the stresses of his family life had brought him down, how he’s been feeling lost as of late. I felt horrible, I hated myself. I had to give the guy a hug and just say, “I’m sorry” It’s because he’s my friend there was a CHANGE in my life that gave me the CHOICE to be a better person, and the CHALLENGE every day to keep it up, to be more like Quentin. To be a better person.
Tyler, this really touched my heart. I would have never pinned you as a person that would have bullied someone. Which should show you how much you have changed? therefore, I hope this encourages you, knowing that someone who doesn't know you particularly well, looks at you and sees a nice guy-not a bully.
One suggestion, because we are supposed to include a suggestion, would be to tell us how you overcome your anger now whenever you feel like saying something mean to someone? That would really help me understand even more how you have changed.
Once again, Thank you for sharing this. Keep doing what you are doing.
Tyler, This is a very interesting story to say the least, I would’ve never guessed that you be the one bullying someone. It makes me glad to know that you have changed you ways and become a better person that we all love. Also, I love that you told a personal story because it kept me interested and made me want to keep reading. However, one suggestion is to use better transition words. You use the word But and So an awful lot to continue your story or change ideas. Instead of using those words think of more complex transitions. Thank you for sharing this great story!
I'm going to talk about a challenge I have been facing my whole life, my challenge has to do with my future. All thoughout my life I have been asked the same dreadfull question "what do you want to be when you grow up?" For some that question wasn't dreadful at all, they knew what they wanted to do. But I didn't and still don't sometimes I get idea's of what I want to be, but then I find reasons of why I shouldn't be in that profession. I keep telling myself to pick something that makes good money and doesn't require you to go to college half of your life, but then the other part of me tells me to do something that will make an impact on others as well as make me a better person, which would please me.
When I think of what I want to do for the REST of my life, it scares me not because it feels like I would be doing the same thing my whole life but because I also think of how it will please others. For example if I went home and told my parents I wanted to be an elementary school teacher my parents would ask me if I was crazy, they would then begin to give me a long lecture on how its not a stable job, and how the children these days are crazy and how most parents don't care anymore. The only reason I know what they would say is because one time I told them I wanted to be a teacher, and as you probably already assume that didn't go over well. My parents excuse for telling me that I shouldn't be a teacher or anything else I might consider is always the same and that is "we are only trying to protect you and help you" well unfortunately its not helping, only making it more confusing.
My challenge of picking a carreer may seem a little silly, but its something that I have been struggling with for a while now. Im hoping to figure out what career I will be attending college for.
And that bring me anothee challenge which relates to my challenge on deciding on a profession to go into, and that challenge is picking a college, many people have been asking me what college's I plan on applying for and I have a few in mind but at the same time I'm very unsure of why I had these colleges in mind. I feel that if I don't decide on a career I shouldn't be thinking about colleges, but college is only a year and half away. So I figure I need to attempt to face these two challenges head on, and figure out what what I'm going to do with my life.
Taylor, My problem is almost identical. Although I didn't include it, anytime I think of a profession to go into I'll tell someone and if I don't hear one negative thing from one person, I hear it from another. And being halfway through junior year I feel really unprepared and a little frightened. Although I'd be more than happy to go out and make my own living, it's a tad difficult when I don't know what I'm really after.
I sit in my desk, my hands clenched into fists, sweat gathering on my palms. A student is finishing up a spectacular presentation, and I do not envy the person who has to follow it up. Even as I am thinking this and the rest of the class is clapping for the student, I hear the teacher call across the room, "Will, you're next." I freeze. I have a sick feeling in my stomach. My throat feels constricted; I don't know if I'll be able to talk. The teacher calls for me again, assuming that I hadn't heard my name the first time. "Will, it's your turn." With those words, my trance is broken. I slowly get to my feet and walk to the front of the classroom. Now the trembling begins. I hope that the rest of the class can't see my paper shaking in my hands. I look out at the other students, to see if they have noticed.
That was a mistake.
Now I am flooded with a hundred worrisome thoughts. Are they judging me? What will they think of my presentation? They'll probably think that it's idiotic, stupid, boring, pointless. What if I mess up? Will they laugh at me? Or will they not even care? Is my presentation so boring that they won't even listen? Will I just end up putting them to sleep? All of these thoughts and more come into my head in a split second. But I know I have to give this presentation. It is for a grade, after all.
I begin speaking, but I'm mumbling, so the teacher interrupts me and curtly says, "Speak up." I stop, look at the teacher, and nod. I start again, louder, but now I'm rambling, talking faster and faster and I just want to get it over with so I can sit down and not feel like I'm being judged or like I'm doing a horrible job and that I'm boring and I can't think about anything but how I must sound so stupid and how I keep messing up and everything is just going wrong and I just really want it to be over... And then, as suddenly as it started, it was finished. I look back out at the class, and I hear nothing, I see no reactions. Does that mean that it was boring? It was horrible, wasn't it? It was idiotic, stupid, boring, and pointless. But then I hear clapping, and I let out the breath that I have been holding all this time without even realizing it. I walk back to my desk and sit down, glad that I'm finished.
But it's not over.
Now I start berating myself. Why was I so nervous? I should have talked more slowly, been more confident in myself. And why do I worry about whether or not people will judge me? I have no right to think that they will take time out of their lives to focus on my shortcomings or mistakes. Why would they care? I'm not that important to everyone. I shouldn't be so conceited, to think that people will pay attention to every move that I make and judge me for it. Then I hear someone tell me, "Good job." I thank them, but on the inside, I'm wondering why they felt the need to tell me that. Was my presentation really that bad? Do I give off this vibe, like I'm this wounded animal that needs to be cared for and consoled? I keep thinking these things over and over, until the bell rings. But when I leave the classroom, these thoughts follow me. They periodically come to the front of my mind throughout the day, and I can't seem to get rid of them...
Even now as I'm writing this blog post, I wonder what people will think of it. I don't know why I've always been so nervous in front of people, or why I worry about their opinions of me. Maybe it's because I am not very self-confident. Perhaps it's because I'm not good at opening up to others and sharing my own opinions, and that affects other aspects of my life. Either way, this is a challenge that I still face. I have gotten a little better about dealing with it, though. I think I'm finally starting to gain more confidence in myself and my abilities, and that has helped me tremendously.
Well first off, that was amazing. I truly enjoyed reading your blog Will! Before 5th period pre-cal class this year, we weren't really "friends", but now I have gotten the chance to grow closer to you though laughter and you being angry that I am terrible at math and always need your help. (Thank you by the way for your constant help!) Getting back on topic, this really surprises me about you. You are super smart and I have always stereotyped "smart" people as good public speakers, weather they feel they are or not. I am always jealous of them because I never feel as smart as some of my peers and I have felt everything you listed in your blog numerous times! I empathize with you so much, which is why I wanted to comment on your blog- to let you know that you are not alone. we all get nervous talking in front of people and that we will be judged. So don't feel like you're alone, okay?
If there is one thing I could suggest- since we have to- it would be to explain a little more on how you try to "deal with it" now, rather than your past experiences from public speaking, so we could better understand on how this challenge has changed you.
I absolutely love your stream-of-consciousness approach. It puts the reader inside the moment that you're describing, and the detailed emotions and thoughts allow the reader to relate very easily to what you're talking about. All of us have felt this way at one time or another.
One suggestion I have--and this is more style-related, so you don't have to listen--is for you to be less, um, proper with your diction. I get the impression that you're holding back a little. For me, the natural thought when I feel like I messed up is "You stupid (expletive)." I think that you could make the reader feel more involved in the moment if you were slightly more frank and blunt about your thoughts to yourself.
Also, keep in mind in the future that (a) the vast majority of people (myself included) have qualms about presenting in front of others; (b) it doesn't matter that people judge you--they're going to judge you even if you don't mess up and nearly all of them will be history once you go to college or even finish whatever class you have with them; and (c) you're hands down one of the smartest, most articulate few kids in our grade and if you can't do something right, few people can. So just go for it!
Sitting at my computer desk wondering what story I am going to talk about or elaborate on. I can’t help but think about the time I made a mistake and fought tanner smith on the football practice field, and got the snot beat out of me. Looking back on it and how it affected me it annoyed me how he kept cheap shoting me ,and eventually I just lost it and slammed him, and he basically rolled over picked my helmet up and continuously slammed my head into the semi soft ground. I just laid there and in-between the constant pounding wondering what was I thinking I came to the realization that I liked the felling of slamming him and the since of accomplishment of slamming him the outcome wasn’t what I perceived but yet the one that happened.
So I guess what I am saying is I learned not to let people annoy and I actually stood up for myself. It’s weird though he hated me before he beat me but afterwards he like me more because I actually made him stop. He knew he could rely on me and he told me afterwards he trusted me and that he could rely on me to help protect the team.
How this event has affected me it really hasn’t at the time I thought I just let my temper get the better of me and how I was just a stupid kid trying to win a fight with tanner smith. Looking back I’m like okay wow that actually happened and it’s transferred from the football field to everyday life to how I don’t let people hurt friends or family. I always think of it like a semi wolf pack mentality and how its mess with someone I care about, you mess with me also.
I really like how this story helped me understand a little more about you. A lot makes sense now. Especially the fact that you're pretty protective of others. It might help to use some punctuation, though. Your sentences ran together, making a few spots difficult to understand. ~Shelby McKinney
We got in the car, ready to begin our frightening journey to the hospital. I couldn’t stop crying, I was so scared and wasn’t sure what was going to happen. I sat in my seat with an ice pack wrapped in a blue washcloth. The bleeding had slowed down but my whole face throbbing. It felt like it had a heartbeat of its own. I looked at my cousin beside me. She was staring; her confused expression still had not changed. I thought about how she must’ve been wondering why her “puppy”, a 100lb adult Siberian husky, had made me cry. I could hear my Aunt on the phone with my mom, telling her what had just happened in the surprisingly past ten minutes. It all happened so fast.
The waiting room was terrifying with no color and not very many people. By that time I had stopped crying, but I couldn’t say anything, the only noise coming out of me was my uncontrollable snubbing. People starred at me as they walked by, but I didn’t care. My mouth felt as though it was going to fall off. I still didn’t understand why this had to of happen. I just wanted to go make Christmas candy. Most of all I wanted my mom to be there with me.
After what felt like hours, my name was called. I went into the room to find that there was no old lady waiting with pointy knitting needles but a nice nurse who had a warm reassuring smile on her face. She told me that it felt worse than how bad it actually was and that I only needed three stiches. I held my Aunts hand and whimpered every time I felt the needle go through one side of my flesh and back out the other. Ouch!
When the quick torture was over, I looked in the mirror and there was a black lump on the corner of my upper lip. I was thankful the bleeding had stopped and the throbbing had gone away but now I was concerned about how embarrassing it was going to be to walk in class on Monday which was the next day. I was afraid all the other kids were going to make fun of me or think it was gross. Third graders can be harsh sometimes.
On Monday morning I cried and begged my mom to let me stay home. I couldn’t face my class because I looked so weird. My mom walked me to class that day and explained to my teacher the eventful weekend we had just experienced. My teacher understood and told me I could share my story with the whole class.
At first I was nervous, and then I saw their intrigued faces. No one else in my class had as an exciting weekend as I did or had ever gotten stitches before, so it was cool to be the first one. The kids didn’t make fun of me or get grossed out, they thought my stitches were awesome and said it looked like I had a mini mustache. Everyone asked me all kinds of questions and told me how brave I was. I felt like a celebrity. I had worried for nothing.
This was a challenge in my life I’ve had to overcome. Even though I overcame the events of that day and going to school the next day, I was left with the fear that every dog would bite my face off and an ugly scar on my lip. As I’ve grown older and am now sixteen, I am no longer scared of dogs but would much rather not be around them, I prefer cats. As for my scar, its barely noticeable and most of the time I don’t pay any attention to it. I feel like my story is proof that challenges can be overcame.
We all have faced, or still face challenges in our lives. Some, we have chosen to take on and due to taking that risk, it becomes an inconvenient issue for us. Some of the decisions we have made turn out messy, and regretful. And if you said you have never made a decision that you regret, I'd say you were lying. For me, the biggest challenge I have faced is making the choice to drink before the schools Glo Dance this year. Now I'm sure most of my classmates have heard about this incident, but for those of you who have been living under a rock, I will explain to you what happened that night.
Before I start, I must tell you how queasy it makes me feel just telling this story... But I must. I was getting ready with my best friend for the dance that day. We were so excited for this dance because after all, it is the best dance of the entire year. When our other friend got to my house, we left to go eat. Before arriving to the restaurant, we picked up two of our other friends who are sophomores. We got to Applebee's, all five of us, and we were having a great time. We were laughing and smiling, yet little did we know this night would end in tears. When the food got to the table, someone had mentioned "pre-gaming", meaning drinking before the dance, ya' know "to have a better time..." We were all extremely nervous about it, but of course we all agreed that was what we would do. We arrived to the school, parking in the student section, but not getting too close to the school. We had begun drinking... some of us got in more drinks than others, but drinking is drinking. It wouldn't matter if we took one sip, or twenty. All of a sudden we look up and here comes our school officer along with his partner for that night. He yelled "c'mon girls. Let's get a move on." I believe at this point he either had no idea what we were doing, or he did from someone who ratted us out. We quickly sat all the drinks down in the car, except for one who girl who decided to throw the alcohol out of the car, right in front of the Officers. Long story short, all five of us got suspension for three days, which was a reasonable punishment.
Telling my mother and step-father the news was the hardest thing I have ever had to tell them before... I remember crying so hard, that they couldn't even understand what I was saying at first. After an extremely long lecture from my parents, I went to bed, but don't let me fool you, I got zero sleep that night. There was talk of getting charges pressed against us, which made all of this ten times worse. Thank goodness, the charges never happened. Even though to me, I might have gotten away easily, with only three days of suspension (because I could have had gone to court over this), I will always live with the shame, and embarrassment for the rest of my life. I let not only myself down, but my friends and family as well...
It is safe to say I learned a very valuable lesson from all of this mess. Maybe it was better for something like this to happen now than later, where I could have been drinking plus driving. It is up to us to let the mistakes we make define us, or grow from it. I have finally stopped beating myself up over this so much. But I still tell myself how stupid it was of me to do this. Although I was not alone in making this awful choice, I could have been the one to say no this is a bad idea and I will not participate in it. I regret making the choice to drink in the school parking lot before the dance, every day. But I learned from this and I know to never make this mistake, or any other mistake relevant to this one, again.
Cheer has been a big part of my life since I was a little girl. From the time that I can remember I have always said "I want to be a UK cheerleader, they are the best of the best." I have over come so many challenges, and made a lot of choices in order to be where I am today with my goal of being a UK cheerleader. My biggest challenge that I have come across is all the problems I have had with my knee. Of course this will be one challenge that I will have to face for the rest of life sadly, but I have learned how to stretch it properly and also I go to therapy and from there I get certain exercises that also helps with my knee problems. Last year when I hurt my knee I was doing a hand, hand full and landed on it wrong after my full. After that fall I was so scared to throw my full again, but then I thought if I don’t throw this full I will never be able to reach my goal/dream of being a UK cheerleader. After telling myself over and over that I could do it I finally did it, this made me realize even though I hurt my knee once on a tumbling pass dose not mean to be afraid of it, it actually made me want to work harder so that I could have a perfect, and clean landing. Another challenge I have had to over come is learning how to coed stunt. I have always been on an all girl team so I never got to coed stunt because we never had any guys. Of course I have always been a flyer but with all girl you have three and maybe four people under you but with coed you have one guy under you and that is it. Me and my mom sat down one night and called up the UK cheer coach and asked if any cheerleaders were willing to give me lessons and he said that they would love to. My first lesson I was so scared but my coach, Matej, told me not to worry he wouldn’t drop me, and he would be there to help me every step of the way. Come to find out when I finally over came the challenge of coed stunting it made me realize that I am actually better with coed stunting then all girl . A lot of people say that coed stunting is harder than all girl and yes I agree with that but for some reason coed came very easily to me which will be great for cheering at UK. Along with my challenges I have had to make a some choices. One of my biggest choices I have had to make was to quit all-star cheer and spend more time training with the UK cheerleaders or keep cheering for an all-star squad and don’t go up to UK as much. I decided that it would be better for me to quit cheering for an all-star team and go train with the UK cheerleaders more than I did. I am very happy with this choice that I made, at the time it was very hard for me but now that time has past I have realized it was so much better for me to train more with the UK cheerleaders in the long run. Now that I have been training with the cheerleaders the coaches have got to know me and know my talent level, they are always impressed with my hard work and determination. If I were to stick with all-star cheering I would not have got the chance to get so close to the coaches and cheerleaders. They are always telling me if I keep up my hard work I will be able to reach my dream of being a UK cheerleader and that’s exactly what I wanted to hear. Another choice I made was having to give up a lot of my free time. I enjoy hanging out with my friends and I still get to it's just not as much time as I used to spend with them. When people would ask me to hang out and I had to say no because I had training I would sometimes wish that I wouldn’t have started training with UK cheerleaders, but then I started to think and there are thousands of cheerleaders out there that would kill for a spot of the UK cheer squad and if I just stopped my training then that is giving them a chance to be better for me and possibly take my future spot. With every challenge and choice that I have came across it has made me a better cheerleader and even a better person all around. I have learned to never let a challenge or choice come in between me and my dream of being a UK cheerleader. **Miranda Gunn
I enjoyed reading your post because I know how hard you work to reach your goals. I also know how hard it was for you to quit all star cheer- but know that all of your friends and family are here to support you all the way!
As a suggestion to your post, Instead of making it all one lengthy post, you should organize it. Put it into paragraphs. This will make it easier and more clean for the readers to read.
Keep working hard on your cheerleading- you got it!!
Part 1 Im orignally from california thats where my family and friends live . But one day my mom got a call from my cousin cutia saying that my uncle max was about to sale my great grandmothers property to kentucky state university, and that we should try to come down to kentucky to take care of the property to keep it in the family. at the moment my mom didnt want to but for some reason i tried to convince her to move down here so she thought about it for a day or two, then she told me that we were moving to kentucky i was excited because it was somthing new and i have never been. My last day in california was probably the one of the most sadest days of my life . Quanesha clay
I like your story but you left a lot out. How did this affect you? Do you enjoy living here? You need to include your thoughts and feelings about living here!
Softball is not just a sport to me, it is something I have a desire to do throughout my college career. My entire life I have either played shortstop or catcher, well one day my coach decides he wants to switch me to second base, which isnt much of a difference than shortstop, but it is still different and was very uncomfortable for me at first and still is to this day. I've never been the type of person to say anything back to my coach or question them about anything they are doing for me, I just simply go with it. I remember this day so well, it was summer ball and he says "Hey Mackenzee, we really need you to play second while one of our pitchers is not pitching so she can play shortstop."
Me being the willing person I am, I start to practice there that day just like he had asked. As practice goes on I start to get more and more frustrated with myself and somewhat at my coaches because I was not sure what to do on some plays. I am the type of person that beats myself up when I am not doing something right....well only on the softball field. So I start to tear up and completely give up on that spot and myself but no one really starts to see it just yet becasue I am not showing it to the team or coaches, just myself. Over the past year an half I have practiced at second and improved a lot but it is still not a comfort zone to me. Shortstop is the spot I have a desire to play and improve at, but once again I do as my coach ask and I have played there all fall ball this past fall.
Also another challenge I have overcome would be how I beat myself up so much or how bad I drop my head. I did that up until about sophomore year. I realized that dropping your head all because you made a mistake will not do anything for you but make you make another error/mistake. Last year seaon I completely shut down after I knew someone else had the spot I wanted and I completely regret it. That is why now, I work hard at whatever spot I am put at, becasue either way I am going to do my best I can to achieve my goal. Nothing and no one will stand in my way now, all because I've learned from the mistake of giving up and having to live with that regret for a whole year.
Over my life I have had many challenges to overcome, some were harder than others. The hardest to overcome bring out the best outcomes. The hardest challenge I’ve had to overcome was the loss of my dad on October 10, 2010. He fought with melanoma skin cancer for two year. After some time, I came to the realization that he was no more.
I then found myself connected to computers, as an escape, I immersed myself in technology and found out I was passionate in it, the hardware, software, all of it. It all grew to consume my entire life. Then freshman year rolled around, we got our first schedules to fill out I tried my best to fit in all the technology classes I can. I got into the Web design and A+ hardware class over at Franklin County CTC, I loved it. I came out top of the class, I was able to take apart a computer find the problem and reassemble the computer in little to no time. That year was the time of my life.
Sophomore year was awful! No matter how I looked at my schedule I couldn’t find any holes to fit in a technology based course. Over that time my skills started to dull; till the summer of junior year. Then I had gotten an apprenticeship, well basically a job, at a computer store. I was working twelve hours a day four days a week; my boss couldn’t keep me out of the store. I enjoyed every minute in the store fixing and creating amazing computers out of mere insufficient parts.
So from my escape into my passion I found a career, a life style, a choice. From my challenge to making my choice, of finding my passion to computers I have achieved more now than I would have ever before perceived.
Your post was very heart touching, Conner. My Uncle, who I am close to, has the similar type of cancer, and I understand the struggle of having to deal with it.
As a suggestion, I think you should talk some more about the relationship between you an your dad. That will most definitely make your writing more emotional for the reader, and in turn make it more effective.
It is beyond awesome that you took something so traumatic and used it as motivation of success. I know your dad would be extremely proud.
Wow Conner it helps us understand a lot about you and I agree with Torey it may be beneficial for your reader to explain how strong you and your dad relationship is
Other then that one suggestion good post thanks for sharing
I've faced a lot of very difficult changes and challenges these past two years. Obviously everyone has challenges and what not that they face. I understand that. Im not really sure where I'm gonna go with this but I'll just start talking about some changes and stuff.
My freshman year and beginning of my sophomore year were awesome! I had so many amazing friends. My best friend and I were closer than we had ever been. This girl had been with me through thick and thin ever since we were in like 1st grade. I mean we went to Kings Island every year, went to Florida together, spent every waking moment together... Until later on my sophomore year. She started dating this guy who is still her current boyfriend. I was super happy for her because I mean you could just tell how much she liked this guy. As the days started to pass I started to see her a little bit less. Suddenly, we weren't hanging out much anymore. I didn't see her on weekends, we didn't see each other at all over Christmas break which we usually spent every day of together. I even stopped getting Christmas presents from her. She would text me every single morning before school. And then the texts just stopped. I kept lying to myself thinking "we're still close, she's still my best friend" but that wasn't the case...
I was so heartbroken to think that I lost my best friend. And what made things even worse was the fact that I didn't really have anybody else except her. I had spent every day with her and never made time for any of my other friends. I was alone. I was so confused why this was happening to me. I didn't understand. She was like, my person and then she was just gone.
The second half of the year came around and I started spending time with a lot more new people. I made a lot of new friends and got closer to friends that I already had. I didn't think losing my best friend was the worst thing anymore. One door closed, another opened. And now this year just sucks because the people that I was close to last year, I never see anymore. They either moved or graduated or are going to move or we just don't have any classes together anymore. My old friend and I still see each other from time to time and talk every once in a while, but it's not the same. I don't think it'll ever be the same.
It's really hard to adjust when changes like this happen. When I started typing this, I was just going to wing it and talk about random stuff, and the more I typed, the more I started talking about my old best friend. I have a few amazing friends in my life right now and I hope they read this and know how much they mean to me. I didn't ask or expect things to turn out this way, but we can't always control the changes or challenge that we face, but know something good will come out of this. Hannah Hyatt
I really like this because I can relate to losing a best friend and I’m sure many others can relate too! Keep your head up because things will get better with new and old friends.
Something you could work on is maybe cutting the second paragraph into two different paragraphs instead of one long one about the past and what happened after you all starting drifting. Also the first paragraph needs a better hook to catch the reader, it made me feel like you had no idea what you were doing and the paper was going to be a mess. The last paragraph was very good though.
"I wish you were eighteen, so that I wouldn't need to look at you anymore." My mother said on my fifth birthday. "You will never amount to anything." My mother said, when I was six. "Why would anyone love an ugly little thing like you?" My mother said, when I was seven. "If only your father hadn't stopped me from getting that abortion. I never wanted you. No one would want you." My mother said, when I was eleven. "Get out. I never want to see your face in this house again." My mother said, near the end of eighth grade. A lot of kids are pretty lucky. They've got two loving parents. Two parents who, whether they're together or apart, would do anything to keep their child safe and happy. Two parents who would never dream of hurting their child, physically or mentally. I'm one of the unlucky ones. My parents divorced when I was too young to remember them every being together, and my mom won custody over my big sister and I. There was never any question that my sister was always the favorite. She got whatever she wanted, and she never got in trouble for anything. My mother had a lot of anger inside of her. She got mad about everything. And all of that anger got taken out on me. On rare occassions, she would get violent. But most of the time, she simply stuck with mental/emotional abuse. I'm sure that, to someone who didn't have to deal with it day after day, this doesn't sound so bad. I mean, all she was doing was yelling at me, right? Spewing insults and what not. What you don't understand, is that all of those insults were made to tear me down. And after putting up with them every day for twelve years, they left me as nothing more than a shell of myself. No self esteem, no selfworth. I got to the point where I didn't even want to keep living anymore. When I lived with my mom, I did everything I could to find an escape from her tyranny. I would lock myself in my room or sneak out whenever I knew she was angry. I took every chance I could to go to a friend's house, sometimes bouncing between friends for a couple of weeks at a time. But none of it helped. During my middle school years, when all of her insults hit me the hardest, I went through a very deep period of depression. One that I still haven't recovered from. I pushed everyone away from me and stopped doing the things that I loved, because I no longer cared about anything. I left my room on rare occassions, and stopped eating. Suicide was definitely something I considered, on a daily basis. I don't think I would be alive today if she hadn't decided that she didn't want anything to do with me. On April 22, near the end of my eighth grade year, my mom kicked me out. The things that were said to me that day were so bad that I can't even think about them without nearly breaking down, let alone type them. My dad came to get me, and I am currently living with him. He and my step mom have done everything they can to make me feel as if I finally have a home, but the things my mom did to me still follow me around today. I feel her influence everywhere; in my distrust of the people around me, in the way that I expect the worst out of everyone, the way that I hate everything about myself, the way that I hesitate to open up to anyone, and so much more. That is the challenge that I face every day. Having to live with the aftermath, faking smiles and forcing laughs, pretending like everything is okay. But it's not. Nothing is okay. Because of her, every day is a struggle. ~Shelby McKinney
I know I’ve already got my two comments for critiquing others blog posts, but wanted to tell you that I just love your writing. Every time Ms. Hills gives us prompt, yours is always the first blog post I look for. I can never wait to read what you’ve posted. I hope you don’t think that’s weird haha. I find your writing expiring and I kind of use yours as an example to show myself how an awesome post should look like. I really liked this one in particular. It was outstanding! You’re writing of course, not what it’s about. We just really know each other through English class so I can only assume you’re a pretty quiet person. In your writing though, I could never tell. Your so open and personal, your really do an amazing job. Keep up the good work!
I would say that I'm sorry for you, but when you think of it, those series of unfortunate events have helped to make you that wonderful, fun to talk to person that we all like so much. Now, I'm not saying that that was right, I'm just saying that it seems to me that everything that we go through makes us stronger. That is why you are as strong willed and hard working as you are... And yes, I am sorry for that, you didn't deserve that. -Donovan Billings
Shelby, I just want to tell you that I respect you so much, I love that you opened up in your blog and told us about your struggle. Reading your blog post helps me get to know you better as a person, after I read your blog post I immediately thought to myself about how strong of a woman you are! It takes an extreme amount of courage to tell any struggle you deal with on a daily basis. Your mom may not know the real strong and respectful woman you are, but I can see that, and all I have to say is that your mother is missing out, and that's her bad CHOICE. I loved reading your blog post, it has inspired me to take a second and listen better to other's because we can't always see what someone is going through on the outside, but if we listen and take enough time to get to know someone they may share a something that could change someone else's life.
I enjoyed reading your post!!! Thank you for sharing this!!
Shelby, your posts always touch me on so many levels! I love reading them. I'm so sorry for whatever had happened with your mom. I feel neglected by my father everyday, but not physically or emotionally abused by him. You're so much stronger than that girl you are posting about. I've only talked to you a select few amount of times, but you've always touched me in many different ways! Stay strong okay? We are all here for you!
Hey Shelby! First, your posts never cease to amaze me. I can honestly say I was anxious to see what you were going to write for this post after your post on "Why Should I Care?" Sadly, I can relate to your situation. My dad and I have never really had a relationship. He emotionally abused me like your mom has done to you. Both of us must remember that all of those events are apart of our past. We are both better than that and deserve better. I hope you know that even though we don't really talk, I am always here for you. Always remember you are beautiful :) -Hannah Tice
It was a cold winter evening, 5:40 PM 0n Wednesday, October 26th 2011, when I arrived the United States of America, Lexington, Kentucky to be specific from Yaoundé Cameroon, Africa. I was in form five, which is freshmen year in America. I didn’t start that academic year, because I was soon leaving for the U.S. I went to a bordering school; an average student, didn’t care about so much. Two days before I had to leave for the U.S., I went about my city, saying farewell to all my family and love ones; it was very hard, I couldn’t control my eyes from oozing out as a waterfall. We had already given our house away and almost all of our belongings; spending the last two days at my aunt’s place. The next day we had to pack all what we were leaving with. Almost all of my family member traveled in, to see my mom and I off the next night. It didn’t hit me yet that I was leaving the place and the people I had known all my life, for one I had no imagination of, which was a scary feeling.
The day and time had come for my mom and I to go catch I flight, we said our prayers and drove to the airport. Everyone was there, that was my last time of seeing my whole family. I kept trying to say something to each of them, for the last time, face-to-face, but I was speechless and trying not to cry a lot. My mom and I gave our last hugs and kisses, waving and going to get checked and board the plane. That was my first time on a plane, which was a scary feeling. When we reached, we were picked up at the airport by my mom’s friend, which we lived with for a little. It was so different; the time difference of 5 hours backwards from what I was used to, which made it hard for me to take naps. The food too was new to me, but I ventured everyone I came across. I spoke both English and French as official languages back home, but what I heard was unlike like that. It took me some time to be able to understand and calculate the money currency.
On October 31st 2011, was when I first experienced the “American system” of school, I knew it was going to be as hard as a rock, since I was a shy and quiet person and I didn’t know anyone. New World, New School. It was unusual; as the students had to move from class to class, while I was use to the teacher moving from class to class while the students say put in one class, and also because different grades could take the same classes. I made 5 friends on my first day in school, which was impressive. My name was and still is so hard for people to pronounce. The day was so long and I keep having migraines the first few weeks.
It was a big change for me and my mom too, but we keep learning something new every day. I have made and still making a lot of friends now and adapted, but not fully to the climate. Even though I miss my family and hope to see them soon, I don’t regret the change I made; but hope to dare greatly and get out of my comfort zone more.
I cannot ever imagine the change you went through, you have no idea how brave you are and I am so thankful to be able to call you my new friend- thanks to Mrs. Tope's new seating arrangement in Chemistry! I love hearing your story and I know you will go far in America. I am so thankful you made the move to America, because now I can say you and I are friends, and if you never moved I wouldn't be able to say that. Thank you so much for sharing your story! I would love to hear more details and hear how you feel like you have changed each year since you have moved here.
Most people have someone they call their best friend. Someone they tell everything to, they do everything with, those two people who always seem to come as a pair. My best friend just happened to move twelve hours away in between eighth grade and freshman year, right before the big transition to high school. The change comes from Bethany moving, but the challenge lies in the sudden realization that the people that I hung out with weren’t really my friends. They were Bethany’s. Most kids drift apart from the people that they once called their best friend, not have them suddenly yanked from your grip and deposited miles away, leaving you feeling lost. That feeling where you know you have friends, but you feel very alone. Freshman year I felt like the people that were my “friends” held that title simply because we had been in the same group of people for what seemed like forever. Like it was an obligation, honestly, I never knew if they would be there for me when it counted the most. I’m not saying that these people didn’t care about me or that we didn’t get along, it just felt like they were more of acquaintances than friends. I felt like I was second best to everyone, there was always someone that they would pick over me when it came down to it. But how could I let that upset me when I would always choose Bethany? Sometimes it is when you feel you’re at lowest, you realize who is there to help you back up. At some point, I came to realize that while I was feeling alone with no one to talk to, I was overlooking the people who were always there for me. Maybe the reason I felt like no one was there to listen, was because I wasn't talking about it. I had felt like no one understood, but when faced with reality, I’m not the first kid to feel so lost without their “other half” nor will I be the last. Sometimes, when describing my social life as a freshman, I say that I had no friends, when in fact I had lots of them that really cared. I just wasn't looking in the right places.
Hmm... Lets see, what to write about. Well the most important choice I can think of is what to put on my sandwich so a choice is out of the question. I would have to say a big change in my life was moving to Frankfort. I am originally from Frankfort but moved to Mt. Sterling as I was starting school and lived there until I got to middle school. (Mt. Sterling is in northern Kentucky by the way.)
The main two reasons for the move were because of my parent's jobs and the fact most of our family/ relatives live in or near Frankfort. I visit my closer relatives often so the move made it much easier on travel.
One big reason I see this change as something so great is because I literally would not be where I'm at now. To start off I want to say that I absolutely f***ing hated the middle school up there. I will not give the school's name for I feel it is not worth the time to read. Half the people there I couldn't stand and the stricter rules drove me 37 shades of crazy. Elementary school was fine and I would assume the high school would have similar to the middle school. If I had not moved I would have probably skipped school or something. Now that I have gotten the worst out of the way I wont be so aggressive. :)
Most importantly moving lead me to meet new people. I can get along with the majority of you which is much better than it used to be for me. The move basically gave me an opportunity to start over again, new school new people, you know all that stuff. Some of the new people I have met changed my life, they have made it funnier; full of laughs, fun, and offensive jokes.
I know people say Frankfort has so many problems but hey, nothings perfect. Frankfort to me seems better than where I used to live, the only notable thing I remember up there is a Quiznos, OMA GAWD I LOVED QUIZNOS! You're probably thinking "Oh well Frankfort doesn't have a lot of things either." Well last time I went to Mt. Sterling there was significantly less than Frankfort. Besides restaurants I remember theres a Wal-Mart, Kroger, Big Lots, and a theatre. At the very least I can going fishing here, theres no place to up there thats not private property. I'm not saying its a horrible town but I personally did not care for it much. The change greatly altered my life in a variety of ways and if not for the move I wouldn't be the same person.
- Cameron Bunyea, head of the PPNTOO, Preservation of the Pacific Northwestern Tree Octopus Organization
The natural enemy of the tree octopi are Sasquatch so please help to reduce the Sasquatch population.
I remember simpler times back in elementary school when everybody got along and nobody judged or bullied anybody. There were no “popular” kids or nerdy ones. We were just simple innocent kids. I don't know what happened, but as we got older everything started to change. What was once barren land became the tallest of mountains and deepest of seas (my metaphorical social ladder). The popular kids inhabited the mountains and took over the land, but it was twisted. When did we decide that to be popular we had to hurt others? It is just stupid to think that way. I was stupid to think that way. I don't know what it was but I love the mountains and the people that inhabited it. I loved to be accepted and it is what I thought was most important. Isn't that what every parent wants for their kids?
At our school, they taught us that it was good to be different. Maybe we thought that at one time, but everybody has their own limits on what's too different. For us 8 year olds, too different was a kid named Sam (Sam represents all the people we bullied). Sam probably wanted to fit in just like everybody else, but he was too nice and too smart and exceeded the limits of what our 3rd grade brains thought of as different. He was bullied for it. With words we brought him down. We took apart the foundation underneath his feet, stone by stone, word by word, until he fell. What did we do? What did I do? I watched him fall into the sea, preventing him from ever climbing up our mountain. I watched as the rest of my classmates climbed even higher up the mountains. I, somewhere in the middle, do not want to climb any higher; but I do anyway. I have to fit in.
When middle school came, everything changed. I felt distant from everyone. The classmates I grew up with all my life suddenly seemed different. Confused and lost, I was not sure what to do. It isn't until the sound of my name that I am filled with hope that someone will fill me in on what I missed over the summer. What l thought would be words of reassurance and guidance instead were words of offense, insult, and hate. The words were like a knife, stabbing me in the back. I couldn't breathe. I didn't slip, I was pushed. I was now falling faster than ever before. I was frantically trying to grab hold of anything that could keep me from falling into the sea. I could see my metaphorical mountain disappearing as I got closer to the ground. Until—darkness. No way out.
My name is called. I brace myself for even more hateful words, but it turned out to be the teacher asking me to tell the class about my summer. I stand up but my knees are weak. I start to shake and I can't stop myself, I have no control. I start to speak but my voice shakes just like my knees. My voice is quiet. I feel the eyes of everybody in the class on me, judging me. I start to sweat; I hear my classmates’ voices in my head turning any positive thoughts negative. The thoughts are like poison slowly killing me on the inside. I die a little. I put on a mask and promised myself never to take it off. One must not speak, one must not bring attention to themselves, one must never laugh, smile, or show true emotion. Emotion is what they feed on and I must not give them the satisfaction.
The sea is a dark and cold place. My so called "friends" became the people I disliked the most. My friends were dwellers of the sea and my best friend was Sam. My friends have taught me to never look down on someone, unless you were picking them up. I know deep inside that what they say about me doesn't matter. I am different. Different is good, but also bad. I am myself and that's what scares them, but that's also what scares me. The sea is where I live now, I have learned to love the silence, I have learned to love the cold, but most importantly I have learned to love the land and the sea and the creatures that dwell within them.
Not having a coach is not something every athlete has to go through. Sure everyone has gone a short period without a coach because they had to get a new one or whatever the problem is. Yes the girls soccer team went almost all summer conditioning with no coach on their own, but what if that would have gone all season? Yes they would have found someone to stand in but that person would not have known much about the game. So not having a coach for something as difficult as pole vaulting is definitely something that I struggle with not only at practice but more importantly at meets. Pole vaulting is a lot more difficult that it looks, and not having someone to watch you and tell the things that you are doing makes it very hard to make improvements. When I first learned how to vault I was taught by another pole vaulter who was also a beginner. After my first year of vaulting was over I realized pole vaulting was something that I really wanted to do and stick with, my mom looked online and talked to other vaulter parents to find someone, anyone to help me. After searching she found one place “Fuzion athletics” in Louisville. So I started going there almost a year ago. I still go once a week, an hour long drive to have a 2 hour long practice in Louisville with other vaulters across Kentucky. Not having a coach to having a coach once a week is okay with me.. well at times the times where a coach is needed most is the time that I don’t have one which is at meets. When I first stated I did the same as everyone else, barley clearing the opening height and looking like a complete mess, but I guess you can say I have come a long way because I have gone to state (the year that we won!), I have won meets, and most recently beat the school record! I am very proud of what I have accomplished especially with the circumstances that I am in. and I still have two years to go. Annie Cunningham
I wake up more motivated than any Western Hills ball player, eager and anxious to condition and practice with the team as well as individually. I can’t be stopped. I fight for a varsity spot to play second base and bat in the top of the line-up as a sophomore; and I earned it. Some of my teammates became frustrated because I would constantly go at it trying to improve and pass them up. They questioned why I did it and how; but when I, #3, stepped on that dirt with my cleats on, I showed everyone what I am made of and that hard work truly does pay off. My confidence level was soaring and I don’t think there was anything I couldn’t do. Actually, I know there wasn’t. Being one of the leaders on the team, I was having the time of my life with my team. Everything is great and dandy when you’re on top of the world and all you know is success…
Fall Louisville Stunners Elite Softball Season 2013:
All of my Wolverine teammates still play 14U but because my birthday falls 3 days before the New Year, I am required to move up and play with bigger and better athletes. Due to the lack of 18U teams nearby, I decided to try out for Derby City Crush, Louisville Lady Sluggers, and the Louisville Stunners Elite. Boosting my confidence, I made two out of the three and decided to go with the Louisville Stunners Elite.
First weekend: Columbus, Ohio Second Weekend: St. Louis, Missouri Third Weekend: Chattanooga, Tennessee
Entirely new to this environment, coaching, speed of the game, teammates, and level of skill, I am beyond overwhelmed. These girls are better than me; too good for me. I walk up to the plate with nearly zero confidence considering I am batting in the ninth hole and struggling to get a hit while literally hundreds (nearly thousands) of college coaches are looking for players to recruit. Post-game conversation with my parents involves a lot of upset, yelling, frustration, disappointment, and discouragement. But I can see it in their eyes when they decide to bite their lip and fight back the words they want to say but know they shouldn’t, which is even worse. Tears build up and adrenaline begins to rush, but it seems like each time I step onto the field once again, things only get worse. Opposed to High School season, I entirely lack self-assurance and feel like I have hit rock bottom. Is there anything lower than rock bottom?
Now, one fall break day I am sitting at home contemplating how I am going to bounce back or better yet, if I will even be able to. My brother walks in with one of his friends and we start talking about CrossFit (something I had never heard of in my life) and how I should join. Willing to do anything to get better and improve my happiness, I go for it without any hesitation. Day 1 killed me, along with day 2, day 3, day 4; but I kept going back for more. I’m not sure if it was the generous people, unique and intense workouts, or the fact that it was just fun, but there was something about it that I began to fall in love with. This love has grown over time where my trainers, Ann and Andrew, literally have to make me leave sometimes and the people in my class consider me their family.
This brings me to today.
I just got home from CrossFit, now I’m writing about CrossFit, I will probably dream about CrossFit, and all I will think about when I’m not there is CrossFit. I think it’s becoming an addiction. With this being said, softball has been my dream, passion, all of the above, ever since I was just a young girl. Could I be losing this love? Could this passion be kicked out of my heart with something new? The stress of these thoughts is written all over my face with worry and concern about my future; and people can see it. Softball has brought me some of the most difficult and strenuous moments in my life but, when asked (by my father) why I still put myself through it, the answer is inevitable: When it’s going good, it’s the single best feeling one could ever feel.
BUT what about my growing devotion for CrossFit and my new goal to compete in the CrossFit Games when I am older?
These thoughts, concerns, questions, doubts, constantly cycle through my mind. No matter where I am or what I am doing, it seems as though there is a battle within my heart and mind between my first love and my most recent love.
I suppose the next step will require choice, possibly the most important choice of my life, and I’m afraid my weakness of decision-making will cause me to regret whatever it is that I decide. CrossFit or Softball? Is there a way to compromise? I don’t know if I will ever be able to decide, but I’m running out of time.
Destiny, This is such an inspiring and interesting challenge you face! As one of your classmates and friend, I know this is all you talk about. And when you say CrossFit is becoming an obsession for you, let me tell you, that ship has already sailed! I would say you are beyond obsessed with it, but what a healthy obsession to have! It shows how dedicated of a person you are, and how you are doing everything you can to get your confidence back, and to even get an extremely fit body. Since we have to include one suggestion, I guess I will make my suggestion more of advice. I say it's okay to have two loves. Just remember softball has always been there for you and it was your first love. Crossfit is new to you and exciting, I don't blame you for paying more attention to this now. But with that being said, without softball, maybe you would never really had the motivation to join CrossFit. Think about it.
I know you have an extremely busy life, (dont we all) so I just hope you can find a way to balance both softball and CrossFit in your life. Don't stress yourself out too much :) Thanks D!
Most of us wake up from a night of adventures and bizarre unusual events. However, Some people never recall and others forget as they carry out their daily routine. I used to think a dream was just a dream, nothing more. That was before I was introduced to Lucid Dreaming, which is being aware that you are dreaming.
I learned that I could enter a world within my own mind, one which is completely realistic, but completely safe. One where I can do anything my heart desires, no limits, no consequences. If I can imagine it, I can do it, and all while sleeping peacefully. The best part is, Lucid dreaming is a skill that can be learned. I could practice and get better. All of these facts are what initially got me interested in lucid dreaming. Most of my lucid adventures started last summer when I decided I could use my free time to practice.
I first started by logging my dreams. This led to a great improvement in my ability to recall. My dreams went from hazy and disconnected events to shockingly vivid in just about a week and a half. I then began work on achieving lucidity. This started with a technique called ADA or All Day Awareness. To lucid dream, I needed to become aware I was dreaming in a dream. Before I could ever do that, I first needed to become aware of my waking life. With that, I practiced ADA but maintaining awareness all day is not an easy thing to do, so I started in bits and worked my way up.
After two weeks of practicing ADA. I started to have lucid dreams. It was an odd experience. I had to work at controlling my body and staying aware. After more time, I was having 2-4 lucid dreams a week and even learned the skills of teleporting and changing the Dreamscape around me. However, I stopped practicing once the summer was coming to an end. My dreams have remained vivid ( which can sometimes be very terrible, especially when you get the dreams that evoke strong emotions like fear or sadness ) but my lucidity rate has gone down to about 1-2 per month.
Getting to the main point of this essay, how has lucid dreaming affected me? I've grown spiritually and emotionally, and I've accumulated some new experiences.
With lucid dreaming, I've had the opportunity to experience emotions in a more “pure” form. I say this because unlike waking life, when you're in a dream, you no longer have the mental barriers that prevent you from being flooded with an emotion. This has both a good and bad effect. You can experience pure emotions, but if you can't control them, the emotions can overwhelm you and wake you up. The worst part is waking up and having the emotion linger over in reality.
This has helped me better understand myself and my range of feeling/emotions. One of the more major things here is conquering fear. I would usually have more violent dreams than peaceful dreams. As a result, I've gone through a lot. I've been shot, burned, stabbed, kidnapped, beaten, drowned, and much more. I've also been attacked by almost every creature you can think of such as ghosts, demons, zombies, mutants, and the like. After a while, you really stop being afraid of those things and it gives you more confidence in waking life. Then again, not being afraid of stuff like that isn't useful most of the time, I mean, it's not often one is attacked by a ghost.
(So I have now wrote a little bit about lucid dreaming. It's unorganized, unfocused, and I only talked about how it affected me a little. Haha, it's pretty bad, but the idea is out there. I'll fix it up a lot in the final draft, I promise. )
I love the concept of lucid dreaming, it seems so intriguing. You've talked a lot to me in person about how it's affected you, I'd enjoy seeing it come together onto paper- er- computer screen.
The idea of this dreaming seems really interesting, but I’m still really confused about it all. I’ve never heard of this so if you could go into more detail about it all, I think it would make your writing better for people like me who have no idea what you’re talking about.
You did a really good job at how it all has affected you though. It makes me jealous that you’ve gotten over some of your fears because of this dreaming.
Being around people paralyzes me, it always has and I don’t know if that will ever change. In the beginning of my sophomore year I made a choice to be less introverted. I told myself I will talk, I will meet new people, I will join new clubs, and I will overcome this ridiculous shyness. This choice proved to be one of the most grueling challenges I have ever faced. I found out that this particular goal would be a long term goal and could not be achieved in one short year no matter how I tried.
My freshman year I was a member in a few different clubs but I wasn’t an actual participate. So the first thing on my list to becoming a non-hermit was becoming an active member in my favorite club, FCCLA where I felt pretty comfortable. I went to the FCCLA National Cluster meeting in Indianapolis, Indiana with about 7 other people who I didn’t even know. You could probably guess that I was terrified and stupefied and I hated it. I roomed with two college students who are alumni and one person who was a junior at the time and I they were some of the best people I think I have ever met. While I listened to them talk to each other I sat in the background telling myself over and over again to talk and not be afraid and finally I spoke. I overcame one fear on my very extensive list of fears and by the end of the trip I was literally bouncing off the walls and the junior I roomed with was saying “Oh my gosh, we broke her!!” That one little sentence made my day because that’s when I realized that I could do this. I could be more courageous.
Also last year, I decided that I wanted to be a big part of something to show my determination and passion of abandoning my shyness. I decide that I wanted to be an officer for FCCLA. One thing I didn’t take into account when I made this decision was the fact that being an officer meant having to stand in front of a lot of people and speaking to them and when I realized this, I wanted to take back my officer application and rip it to pieces. I sucked it up and told myself to stop being a wimp and achieve my goal. I then became First Vice President of FCCLA and the joy in that moment made e forget about the bad part and gave me the motivation I needed to face the problem head on. I can now speak in front of people without turning into a frozen freak but I still shake and tremble and get that awful feeling in my stomach like there is a rock in it and it sucks but I WILL overcome this. I am set on that.
At the beginning of this year I told myself that I was time to spread my horizons in the friends department. This seems to be the most difficult part for me and I don’t know why but I keep trying, even when I get shot down over and over again. I know that this goal will not be fully accomplished by the end of this year and will probably be continued my entire life because it is the most terrifying thing for me, individually. I guess I’m just not a “social butterfly”. Oh, well. I guess all I can do is give it my best and face whatever challenges are thrown at me so that I can ditch the loner in me.
First, I want to start out by applauding you on your courageous decision to put aside your fears and use your voice. From talking to you on a daily basis, I know that you are very witty, and I wish that this trait of yours would shine through in your writing. I believe this would give your piece more voice. Overall, your writing was very insightful and I enjoyed reading about the journey that you are on to become more extroverted. There were just a few grammatical errors that I spotted while reading your post. In your first sentence participate should be participant. In the first sentence of the last paragraph, I think you intended to use the word “it” instead of “I”. In the fifth sentence of the third paragraph, “me” is missing an “m”. ~Madison Wallace
I was late on my first day. My first day of volleyball. I walked into the gym right at 4 o'clock, proud that I was right on time. Then I looked up and saw 25 girls running laps and the coach staring at me. Five laps then stretch she growled at me. I think I might have whimpered a little but I was just lucky not to pass out. After I ran those laps and practiced for what seemed like an eternity practice was over. I was free! I could go home, chug some water and fall asleep. Some how I managed to force myself to go the next day and the day after that and so on until I was officially on the team. I hated that first few weeks of volleyball, not realizing it would turn out to be one of my favorite parts of high school.
It was a challenge for me to play volleyball. I wasn't exactly in the greatest shape and my volleyball experience consisted of two years at the YMCA. But I managed to stick with it and before this season I made varsity. It is one of my proudest moments. I can't imagine what my life would be like without volleyball. (Well, it would be a lot easier, I would get my homework done faster and I would not be sleep-deprived all the time...but who cares about that anyways!) I had to challenge myself in order to achieve one of my greatest accomplishments.
I wouldn't be the same person that I am today without volleyball, even if I'm a little late sometime.
When I was learning, I was completely and utterly afraid of driving. Just the thought of getting behind the wheel made my heart jump out of my chest. I was so frustrated because I couldn’t drive the way I imagined I could. Driving didn’t come naturally to me, which for some reason bothered me, even though hardly anything ever does. It didn’t exactly help the situation that most of my friends had already been driving before I even turned sixteen, and while I was struggling to learn the basics, they pretty much had the whole driving thing “perfected”.
Normally, having to actually practice learning to drive like a typical human being shouldn’t bother someone, but I guess I wasn’t just someone. I was crushed. Devastated. Every time I wasn’t perfect, every time I made a mistake, I thought I was letting someone down. It didn’t matter whether it was my dad or myself or anyone, and I hated it. I hated it so much I basically started avoiding driving all together unless I had to. Until I started craving the feeling of independence that I started seeing in everyone else. Seeing everyone have that opportunity to at least have the illusion of independence made me want to have that too. It started to slowly overtake the fear of failure that I had come to associate with driving.
Eventually, Instead of my dad forcing me to drive, I started forcing him to take me driving. And to my surprise, practicing actually made me a better driver. The better I got, the less inadequate I felt about driving. I still don’t fully understand why it worries me so much to fail at some things, and with other situations it’s just a possible outcome. Maybe I’ll never figure it out.
Personally my biggest challenge in life is achieving my future goals. Sense middle school I knew I wanted to be in the medical field. By the time I was in high school I knew I wanted to be an Rn. So I've been working to achieve my future goals for years, and there have been many challenges to get to where I am now. Because of the many requirements I must meet to achieve my future goals.
One of the many challenges that I faced was having to take advanced science courses. I had to take advanced biology and chemistry; this for me was a constant struggle and was not something I wanted to do but had to do. Because most colleges require biology and chemistry for a nursing degree. Because most Rn’s are the ones calculating how much medicine you are given and it is important to understand the amount you should be giving so you do not harm someone.
Another one of the many challenges that I had to face was taking a lot of medical explanatory’s not only to see if I’m interested in the medical field but also to see if I’m capable of completing the courses. At first they were hard and I would have to study for hours to remember many muscles, bones, disorders, diseases, and many more things. Which took awhile, but now I know them without having to even think about it. All of the courses also help to show me what parts of the medical field I’m interested in and where I fit in.
I would have to say the biggest challenge I have faced so far in the process of achieving my future goals of being a Rn. Would have to be taking MNA, because it is a dual enrollment college nursing course that is required for nursing school and is very important to my future success. We have done many things that were challenging in this course from doing procedures to taking 10-15 test per term this has been the hardest course so far but has really helped me to see what college is really like and what my future life as an Rn will be like.
So most of my challenges in life right now come from school. Because I really want to achieve my future goals and become an Rn. So even though I might not want to take hard science courses or have to memorize many medical topics or take on many challenges that make me feel stressed in a college nursing course. I do because achieving my future goals and becoming an Rn is important enough for me to take on all of these challenges so that I can achieve my future goals.
“It is no bad thing celebrating a simple life.” ― J.R.R. Tolkien
The great spaghetti monster in the sky has seen to fit to give me a lovely life. The more projects like this I have to do the more I can really realize and appreciate that fact. Too often I forget that it’s because of the luxuries and safety of my life that it seems so dull. The routine nature that I loathe so, is spawned from the simple fact that it is safe and rather uneventful on a grand scale, I don’t have any real troubles. I hardly ever see it for the blessing it is and the good that comes from it. Look at Bilbo Baggins, a hero by all accounts. Look at where he started. The Shire, one of the most peaceful places in Middle Earth, home to the care-free, easy-going hobbits. Lovely little beings who as Bilbo so elegantly put it, have no interest in adventure.
“Sorry! I don’t want any adventures, thank you. Not Today. Good morning! But please come to tea – any time you like! Why not tomorrow? Good bye!” -Bilbo Baggins
As a hobbit, he would much rather sit among his things in his cozy hole.
“Bother burgling and everything to do with it! I wish I was at home in my nice hole by the fire, with the kettle just beginning to sing!” -Bilbo Baggins
But despite this, he becomes one of the greatest heroes, well, ever. But my point does not lie in the adventures that await the little hairy-footed man, but instead his content with his meager life within the shire. He was invested in life, and an adamantly happy individual, even without some sort of constant stimulation. He didn’t need something special about him, he didn’t need any sort of confirmation as to the adequacy of his life. He found his own happiness in the things around him. I aspire to be like this, content with what is around me. Instead of constantly craving some sort of external stimulation, I want desperately to be more like a hobbit. Content. This is why I’ve devoted time into studying Taoism, and revisiting mental scenes like that of The Shire. I want to be able to just live, and be happy living, and it is a daily challenge for me to see life as worth it. I spend all day simply waiting for it to be over, and that’s ridiculous, but I have yet to really find something to live for. That secret passion of mine remains ever elusive despite efforts to uncover it through the tireless digging of my psyche. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but at some points I can be. Trapped in this cycle of vicious self-loathing. It’s silly to feel down or angry with life when I have so much to be grateful for. It’s a rather pathetic fact, but a true one none-the-less, and one that I am trying greatly to alter. To put simply, I see life as a constant test of willpower, a challenge that I stare in the face every day. Living with a sense of mediocrity hanging over you soon becomes a daunting task, even if this veil of sorts is entirely self imposed. The only way I can dream of curing this utter disease is learning to be happy with what I have, conquering these feelings of boredom, and discovering the method to finding happiness in the simple things that surround me. Maybe one day I can have grand adventures like the ever so lovely Bilbo Baggins of Bag-End. But for now, I’m me, and that’s all I can be.
“Go back?” he thought. “No good at all! Go sideways? Impossible! Go forward? Only thing to do! On we go!” -Bilbo Baggins
Not many know that I've only been going to public school for three years. This was a choice I had to make, it wasn't a hard because I wasn't gonna pay to go up to Lexington catholic and I live on the west side so that what sent me to Western Hills. This also brings a challenge to me because I only knew three people and one of those three was my brother. I didn't know anyone but that was only one I my challenges. I had to challenge myself I make new friends because I'm not the one to talk to people I don't know but lucky for me I joined the band and everyone took me in another challenge was not knowing what I was going to wear because I had always worn a uniform. Through out the three years I've been in public school I've changed a whole lot. Mrs. Hill will agree with me, I've became way more talkative. My freshman year it was good for me to talk to the teacher. I'm not as shy as I use to be. I'm more outgoing and willing to try new thing and make new friends.
Your story was good and very concise. I think you should go more in depth about why the transition between private school and public school was hard and compare the two. You should also add some personal stories about your first days at public school. Then you should talk more about the new things you have tried and the new friends you have made.
The most monumental change that occurred throughout my lifetime would probably be moving from Thailand to America. I can remember everything due to my awesome memory, I remember every single detail that happened on that day.
I was six years old when this happened, so i couldn't really understand what was happening. But i woke up one morning, it felt like a normal day, a little chilly though. My mom came to me and told me to pack my things. I walked to my drawer and got the things i wanted to bring. I packed my clothes and most importantly my cool action figure, i don't even know what it was but i remember it being the coolest i had. After my mom and I finished packing our stuff, i walked outside and saw everyone at our door. My grandparents were there, my best friends were there, and my moms friends came. Just about everyone from our little town gathered to wish us well. But I didn't comprehend what was occurring in front of my eyes, because all of a sudden my grandma started to cry, then my grandpa started to tear up. I looked up and saw my mom starting to cry, at that point my eyes wouldn't stop producing tears. I just couldn't stop, and I kept tugging on my moms shirt asking "whats going on?" My grandma came towards me and tied on my wrist a thin white string, she told me that this string would protect me through my travel. When she finished tying the string, she gave me the biggest hug I've ever received.
After the sad mess that just happened ended, a white van came on our driveway. It was our ride to the airport, we got on and waved bye to everyone. The ride was long and I seriously hated it. But when we arrived at the airport, I was in awe. I've never seen or rode in an airplane before, so it was a new experience for me. We got on and I was freaking terrified!, NOBODY told me I was going to get off the ground in this thing called an airplane. I hated it at first, but I started to enjoy the ride because I was in a cloud. The plane was actually touching the cloud, I thought that was an impossible task.
The long plane ride ended and we finally arrived at our destination, and it was packed in the airport. This man came to us and guided the way out with us. Yeah I hate the cold, it was colder than cold out (the month was December). But we followed the man to his red truck, I didn't know what was going on. Who is he? Why am I here? Well during our ride my mom told me the whole story, we spoke in Thai so the white man didn't understand a lick of what we said. So apparently she's getting married to him, and we are going to live here now with him. I opposed it at first, because we had a good house in Thailand, but i didn't know we were thousands of miles away from it. But I couldn't do anything about it.
As the years passed, I started to enjoy living here with my mom and step dad. I was so shocked of how different it was here compared to where I use to live. But I'm very happy that we did moved though, I've made so much new friends and i couldn't be any happier here.
Nick, you are one of my best friends ever, and I am so thankful you and your mom made the move to America. I cant imagine what that must have been like as a young boy, but everything happens for a reason and it is funny how life is like a constant chain reaction- one thing happens which in turn affects something else, then that affects something else and so on...
Thank you for sharing your amazing story- which I have always been curious of, and I'm sure many others have been too. I would love to hear more about your family and how your living conditions changed from Thailand to America!
Nick, I loved your story as well! Just as Amber mentioned, I have always been a little curious about your story so I’m glad you were willing to share it with us. I think something you could do to improve your piece is continuing with your writing. I feel like through the story it was very interesting but then in the second to last paragraph you kind of just ended it. I think you should keep going before include your final paragraph. Maybe talk about how you got used to America, or the things that were different here than in Thailand. I just think you ended your story too soon and there could be more things you could mention. There are some grammatical errors, which can easily be fixed. Other than that, I loved it!
From Cinderella, Mulan, Ariel, Pocahontas and all the way to Sleeping Beauty, most of us girls have grown up wanting to be a Disney princess. For me, I wanted to be Mulan- strong, loving, smart, independent, and brave. Besides the whole cross-dressing situation, she was who I wanted to be when I grew up.
Nevertheless, we cannot leave out her handsome prince charming, Shang. After all, that is the icing on the cake of every princess story; finding you’re Prince Charming at the end of the adventure and living "happily ever after”. Now, I’m not going to sit here and tell you a mushy love story about my boyfriend and I or anything like that, but instead I wanted to talk of how my boyfriend and I are keeping our relationship sexually pure in order to represent our faith of Christianity-which is a very uncommon thing to do in this day and age we live in. According to (http://www.guttmacher.org/pubs/FB-ATSRH.html) “16% of teens have had sex by age 15, compared with one-third of those aged 16, nearly half (48%) of those aged 17, 61% of 18-year-olds and 71% of 19-year-olds.” Being someone who just turned 17, that is so scary for me to hear, that almost half of American’s by they reach 17 years old, have already had sex. Whereas I am still a proud virgin.
To some that isn’t “cool” at all, but to me it is something I hold very dear to my heart and will continue to hold in my heart until my wedding day. Now, let me tell you, this is a challenge my boyfriend and I have decided to take on together as a couple. It isn’t always easy to stay pure when the statistics are against you, propaganda always popping up of: “everyone else is doing it” and those teenage hormones are happening. Nevertheless, it is a choice my boyfriend and I have made together, to remain pure until marriage; which is something I know I will never have to regret doing; rather than not staying pure and regretting so much on my wedding night from not waiting and saving myself for the man God has planned for me.
One of my favorite songs is “Average girl” by Barlow Girl, even though I am in a dating relationship right now, I feel that it describes me and what I’m trying to say here, very well. It might be cheesy, but hey, everyone needs a little cheesy now and then. Here are a few stanzas from their song- enjoy. -Barlow Girl; “Average Girl” “So what I'm not your average girl I don't meet the standards of this world chasing after boys is not my thing See I'm waiting for a wedding ring
No more dating I'm just waiting Like sleeping beauty My prince will come for me No more dating I'm just waiting 'Cause God is writing my love story”
I have seen you reply to so many, so I only thought you deserve a reply as well! Thank you for sharing your point of view. I think as teens, at a public school, in Frankfort, KY, we don't really see the view of abstinence in the public eye. It is certainly not in the common media, and it wasn't a topic in the lovely health class I took last year. It's great to hear your perspective and I appreciate how you remain respectful as to not push your views on anyone else.
Something to help ya - I think you should include a more ethical approach. Who are we to listen to your story? As a classmate, I know your commitment to Christianity, and I would love to hear another testament from someone else.
Amber, Out of all these blog posts I’ve read yours can certainly relate to every student not just in our class but in our whole school. It warms my heart to know that are still some people out there who are saving themselves for marriage which is the way it should be. I really like the quotes you used from the song, although I’ve never heard it before I really like the honesty of the lyrics. This blog really gets you thinking a lot about choices in life and how a choice like this permanent and irreversible. I know that you have strong Christian values, like myself, I really appreciate you sharing your story. I feel that everyone who reads this should also take on that challenge you have of waiting for marriage with their Prince Charming or Cinderella. Lexie Richardson
Amber, I wanted to thank you for posting this!!! I absolutely agree with you! In high school reframing from doing things that ours peers pressure us to do can be and is very hard, I wish more of our society would be faithful to the lord and would have enough respect for themselves to weight until after marriage to have sex.
I enjoyed reading your post and all the lovely comments!!! (:
I loved the way you put this and how you include your values and the statistics. I'm sure if anyone (male or female) saw this they would value your point and realize how a choice like that is irreversible and how you can regret it when that high school and sad to say middle school fling doesn't work how it was planned.
It's the spring of my 8th grade year and tryouts for the Western Hills dance team are right around the corner, the day I have been waiting for since my mom started teaching at WHHS is finally here. I finally have the chance to be on the dance team I always wanted to be on. Monday was the first day of clinics and I was so excited I could hardly stand it. When I walked into the gym we began stretching, just like I had before any other dance practice, so I felt good about things. Then we started learning the dance... And in a matter of moments I was lost and could barely keep up. By the end of the first day of clinics I was completely discouraged and pretty much knew that I wouldn't make it. After countless hours going over and over the dance when I got home, I felt a little better about it and decided that I would not give up; I would push through, even if it meant that I would not make the team. Tuesday went the same way, except 10x worse. When I got home after the clinics I did the same thing I did the night before, I pushed through. Wednesday was a day to ourselves and I used that to my advantage. I went over and over and over the dance drilling it into my head preparing for tryouts the next day. Finally the day was here, it was tryout day and I felt every emotion all at the same time. It was finally my time to go in front of the judges and I couldn't stop shaking. All the things I could mess up kept playing through my mind. Well after I went out on the stage and did all the things that I thought I could mess up, I was completely devastated. After waiting for all those years I just destroyed that one chance of being a Western Hills dancer... And I was right, I did not make the dance team for my freshmen year of high school. After being upset for a while, I decided to put it behind me and focus on getting better. I tried out for Champions Elite dance team and this time, I made it. I practiced my hip-hop tricks, I focused on getting my motions sharper, and most of all I didn't let my emotions get the best of me. While I was on this team for two years I improved in so many ways and I was so grateful for all the things Champions helped me accomplish. At the end of my Sophomore year I decided I would give Western Hills dance team another try and this time I was determined to make it. When I walked into clinics the first day I knew all my hard work had payed off. I picked up on the dance easily and I had all the tricks I needed to have to make the team, not only was I prepared but I felt confident. This time when I walked into tryouts I wasn't replaying all the things I did wrong but making sure I knew everything to do right. This time I was ready. This time when they put the list up of the 2013-2014 Western Hills dance team members my name was on it. Finally after all those years of wishing, waiting, and wanting to be on the Western Hills dance team I was finally on it. This challenge taught my to never give up but instead practice, practice, practice until you get it right. Abigale Wilson
I am an unusual person. Some of you will not find that very hard to comprehend or may not even need telling. But, I am different from others in my age group in a very unique way. I am a catholic teenager that actually believes and holds the morals of my church. All of you have heard stories about us "weird" catholics who have just been going through the same motions for thousands of years, selling forgiveness and abusing innocent children. Those kind of stories are actually making my life a living hell. It is the bane of my existence when someone finally catches on that I am catholic and they give me the cold shoulder because they think that I am some kind of sicko. I have been asked many times if feel uncomfortable around my priest or why we can't just be normal and be a part of the, what I would like to call, "Anything Goes Policy" which is becoming increasingly popular. That is one of the first things I have a problem with. If we were created in a certain way, by whom ever you choose, wouldn't it follow that you were supposed to accept that you are the way that you are and not try to alter it in any way. Today in class, I heard two people talking about how it would be completely okay if someone wanted to be african-american even though they were caucasian. Maybe I'm the last person on earth, but I think that there is something wrong with that picture. If a person was created white then that is the way the nature wanted it. Who are we to try and go against the will of nature with a mere whim. That is just a minor example what is becoming okay. Apparently, it doesn't matter anymore that you just deal with the hand you've been dealt, you can just change it and dress like a woman and call yourself black. Another big question that I get asked a lot is "Why do your priests molest little boys?" This one really makes it difficult for me. But, I just say right back that they chose the wrong line of work. When we chose our priests, there is a long process of discernment (listening to what God has to say on the matter) which hopefully allows the people who God wants to be priests to serve the people. Without becoming too religious, I want to say that it is completely possible for a pedophile to fall through the cracks and become a priest, but there have been statistics done on how many do actually make it to the priesthood. About 1 in every 500 priests do not deserve to be priests. That means that only a handful actually are in the U.S. Anyway, the catholic church has no tolerance policies in place to maintain the purity of the church. I would like to say that is the end of it but, there have been a surprising number of pedophilic leaders in other well known american organizations and churches. Most of the time when people associate the catholic church with pedophilia it is just the misguided words of the media who seem to want to target catholics for what ever reason.
Finally, I want to say why I as a teenager in 2013 have stuck with the "old fashioned" catholic church and maintained their strict and currently unpopular morals. I believe in something worth fighting for. I believe that we are some of the only people left who have maintained a clear head in the glamor of immoral changes to our society and country. I see the catholic church as the last guardians of the true way of nature. As a part of this church I can see the beauty of nature and how our integrity has lasted through the ages. Doesn't it make sense to you that if something was not acceptable today should stay the same tomorrow? Here is a pretty graphic example of I am trying to say. Currently it is seen as taboo and even illegal to walk around in public with out clothes on. Then one day someone said, out of the blue, just to be different, "Why are clothes necessary? I think that they aren't so I will no longer wear clothes." Then another person thought that this "sans clothes" mentality was cool or novel. So, eventually everyone did it. But yet, today it is not acceptable to be stark naked in public. That is what I am talking about. If something that was previously unthinkable became a norm, would you follow? Or would you continue to hold your beliefs and morals. Through out the years it has been difficult for me to hold my current beliefs and morals about life, death and about everything that I hold near and dear. Which is being questioned by others. But then I remind myself that I have something to hold on to. I have a beautiful truth to keep because I know that I am right in my mind and no class distinction or peer pressure can take that away from me.
You did a tremendous job on the writing. Once I started reading I couldn’t stop. I could hear your voice shine through and I could feel what you felt. I too am a catholic teen that believes and holds the morals of my church. I cannot say that I have ever gotten the cold shoulder from anybody about my religion though but that might be because I went to Good Shepherd School for most of my life though.
I think you should make your examples more clear. For example you wrote, “it doesn't matter anymore that you just deal with the hand you've been dealt, you can just change it and dress like a woman and call yourself black.” Instead of “and” you should use “or”. You could also talk about a “major” example about why it is not okay for a Caucasian to want to be African American. I know for me growing up in a private school and being the only African American in my class (and in my whole middle school for 2 of my 3 years) I felt like the outcast. The racist jokes that I heard every day from catholic teens like you and me made me want to be Caucasian for the longest time. So much to the point that I hated myself and my nationality. Maybe that’s just me but I think there is something wrong with that picture.
Another thing that you should do is add more statistics, like the number of catholic priest in the world, and maybe add a link supporting your data. The link would give you more logos. Your “why are cloths necessary” example is great and funny. The main idea about how “if something was not acceptable today should stay the same tomorrow” needed more supporting details and examples to fill the holes, plus the word “it” between the words “today” and “should”. Some examples of these holes are women’s right, slavery, and gay rights. All of these were not acceptable at one time and now they are either accepted, abolished, or coming to acceptance. I am assuming that you are against gay rights and that would contradict with what you said earlier about “If we were created in a certain way, by whom ever you choose, wouldn't it follow that you were supposed to accept that you are the way that you are and not try to alter it in any way.”
You also need an “I” between “if” and “feels” in the second paragraph. Once again great job. It was really brave of you to post your views on such controversial topics.
Here I am again sitting on the side of the pool, beating my head against the wall and slowly going crazy from chlorine withdrawals. Why does this happen to me? First pneumonia which tool me out for two and a half months before I was even close to where I was before that. Now I've hurt my shoulder which has taken me out of the pool for a month and a half so far. Coming back from this is going to be the biggest challenge of my swimming career.
Even though I have come back from a similar set back before this is completely different. With pneumonia all I had to do was build up my lung capacity and cardio endurance. With this injury I've got to basically start over at ground zero, well not exactly at ground zero but pretty close. Recovery is always the first part of injury. The time always seems to go by so slow.
I'm both looking forward to and dreading getting back into practices. I know its going to be a lot of hard work which I've already seen from all the physical therapy I've already had to go through, but I enjoy a challenge. I know that if I keep going and pushing my limits like I have been I'm going to climb out of this hole I've found myself in so much better off than I was before. It's me build a stronger work ethic and renewed my dedication to the sport and if I keep going like I have been there's definitely a light at the end of the tunnel.
There’s a lot to be said for the power of adrenaline. Some people find adrenaline when bungee jumping or sky-diving. Others find adrenaline in those last 20 seconds of the match when all the pressure is on them, all eyes on them, everyone eagerly anticipating those final seconds of truth. I find adrenaline as I lace up my cleats, mentally and physically preparing for the game. I find adrenaline as I step on the field and get lost in the game, lost in the feel of the ball at my feet. When you’re on an adrenaline high, you’re faster, stronger, smarter, and more in-tune than your opponent. Nothing can faze you, nothing can touch you. Trust me, there’s a lot to be said for the power of adrenaline. The struggle comes when adrenaline is no longer enough to cover the pain, the fatigue, the lack of strength. For 8 months I played with a torn labrum in my hip. For 3 months I played off adrenaline. Sure it would hurt but as soon as I got into the game the pain faded away and I just could focus on each touch, each tackle. After a few months, a sharp, stabbing pain began to seep its way through the haze of adrenaline and into my game. Shortly thereafter, I started taking an Advil (or two) before the game, after the game, during the day, whenever the pain resurrected. I swore that ice could heal anything as it placated my pain. Briefly. Ice relieved the pain briefly. Those cold, numbing cubes became my new best friend, and with Advil of course. Adrenaline. Advil. Ice. Combined, those three things bought me another few months. I could still play the game I love and I could continue the only life I knew. Sure I felt some pain when they wore off but I was fine. I was fine. I just wouldn’t run track this year, I didn’t like it that much anyway. There was no reason to stop playing. Physical therapy didn’t work; I tried that. Surgery wasn’t an option, not when I was still able to play. So I was fine. Those three magical things, they only served to put a Band-Aid on the physical pain. The thing that lingered, that ate me inside was mental, but I was fine. As much as I wanted to believe that, worry and doubt crept into my mind. I wondered if I was good enough. I started to feel less than up to par, out of place and undeserving, on the field with such elite players. In fear I pushed harder, trained more, and ignored the voices of reason. 10 more shots, 15 more crosses, 20 more sprints. Of course my “cure” only led to more ice, more Advil, but I was fine. Except maybe I wasn’t. The semi-finals of State Cup were close. I just had to make it a few more weeks and I could rest. Except the adrenaline, that adrenaline that kept me going for so long, I didn’t feel it any more. When I laced up my cleats and stepped on the field all I felt was dread. I dreaded playing. I dreaded everything. I knew it would hurt. Every step and every shot and every pass and every run and every single thing I did, would bring pain. The sweet power of adrenaline that carried me in its’ arms for months wasn’t enough. That’s when I made my choice. The truth I had been evading for so long, it caught up to me and now it was time to face it.
The week after the semi-finals I went to see a hip specialist to get some MRIs done and figure out how to fix it, fix me. I diligently sat the allotted 6 weeks out. I didn’t touch a ball, I didn’t lace up my cleats, I didn’t even protest that much. Yet the pain was still there, dully throbbing in the background of my body, prone to sudden and unexplainable flares of anger much like a high school girl. At the end of the 6 weeks I faced the truth that had building in me for 10 months now; I needed surgery. I wouldn’t play for another 6-8 months, 5 at best. Even now when I’m back on the field playing, slowly learning to love the game again, the same question lingers. Did I make the right choice all those months back? Should I have gone to the doctor when I first felt the pain? Or maybe when the adrenaline wore off and the pain began to linger? Should I even be playing now? Is this what I love? Every single day I chose to evade the inevitable. I chose to stick to what I knew, what I loved, instead of listening to those who knew more. Yes I have my happy ending. I’m on the field playing, my body took surgery well and I came back fast. I’ll never know if I could’ve avoided surgery by going in when it first began. I’ll never know what the right choice was. I’ll never know, but I find it’s best not to focus on questions with answers I’ll never find. I just take one day at a time and hope I make the “right” choice this time around. There’s a lot to be said for adrenaline but there’s also a lot to be said for facing the truth.
Allow me to introduce myself. Hi there, I’m the really smart kid with the messed-up lip.
Whew. Glad that’s off my chest.
As long as I can remember, my life has been an ongoing, subconscious challenge to make the most of being eternally labeled by those two features of me.
Let me address the second feature first. In sixth grade basketball, after a particularly respectable game (I was inexplicably good at basketball in middle school) I might have been rewarded by overhearing an opponent mutter, “the kid with the messed up lip was a good player,” or something along those lines. Not number 20; not the point guard; not the kid awkwardly sporting a t-shirt under his jersey. No, that dazzlingly perceptive sixth grader knew me as the kid with the messed up lip.
Now, I would be remiss not to clarify for those of you who haven’t had the displeasure of talking to me up close, or didn’t see Bobby G and others call me out for it on the Twitters. I was born with a cleft lip, and when I was a baby I had surgery to fix it. It’s the petite indentation on the left (I actually just had to check which side it was on—that’s how little I think about it) side of my upper lip. Judging by the hundreds of times that I have been asked, “what happened to your lip?” it must be my most profound feature. And I can’t help but chuckle at that prospect.
In the same vein, I couldn’t help but burst out laughing when I read on twitter that evidently I can’t “mess up that clef lip anymore.” Or when someone called me “cleffy.” Or when someone told me in a text that I can take my “ugly clef lip ass on somewhere.” Of course, the main reason for my laughter is that evidently “cleft” is a very hard word to spell. But I also laughed because of the incredible shallowness of these depraved people. If that’s truly the best insult that you can come up with about me, I’m flattered.
As I’ve gotten older, fewer people have asked me about my lip (yet, amusingly, more people insult me about it). Yet I suppose, for some reason, I have grown up to feel cheated out of my identity when I’m remembered for a miniscule facial feature. It’s not insecurity by any means—that would have made for a terrible childhood. It is a sense of underestimation that I grew accustomed to as a child, and now the natural reaction to being identified by my lip is to provide a hundred great reasons to identify me by something else. I promise there are more significant parts of me.
If you do in fact identify me by something else, please do not be that person who calls me “the smart kid.” Yes, I grin and nod and shrug when people tell me I’m too smart or that I’m going to make more money by the time I’m twenty-five than they will make their whole lives. But on the inside, the eye roll is absolute.
I swear, if I had a dime for every time someone has told me I just succeed because I’m smart, I would fulfill the prophecy of making more money by the time I'm 25 than (person) in their whole life. Perhaps these people honestly believe that they’re paying me a compliment. But they’re not. Anyone who says something like that to me is both undercutting the hard work that I have—believe it or not—put in throughout my education and making excuses for themselves.
I have been blessed with parents who have made me learn about the world, made me apply myself, paid to send me to a fantastic private school until ninth grade. Yet the scores that I have received, the awards that I have won, are not merely a sum of genetics and upbringing. I had to take those tests. I had to study (or, pay enough attention to absorb the information). I did not become good at Quick Recall by accident. It has taken countless hours of work to get to where I am—to be able to excel while appearing not to try. If I don’t work hard enough at some step of the educational process, I feel like an idiot. Honestly—just ask anyone in my lab group in AP Chem.
Anyone who attributes my success to pure intellect is making excuses for their failures. It’s not my problem if I beat you on a test or if my presentation makes yours look bad. That’s your problem. It has nothing to do with me being smarter than you, because I’m probably not. I just worked harder than you at some point—either in elementary and middle school, where I learned ninety percent of all social studies and humanities information that I know today, or on the homework that you didn’t do or that you BSed or that you got off the Internet. I’m looking at you, 2012-13 APUSH class.
It’s worth noting that I don’t take—and never have taken—“nerd” as an insult.* This post is not to defend myself from such comments. It could be because I was raised in an environment where academic success got you praise from students and faculty alike, or it could be that I think making fun of someone for being smart is extraordinarily ignorant, provincial, and lazy, but those around me quickly learn that “nerd” or anything similar will not faze me whatsoever. However, I still feel slighted when I’m labeled by my intelligence because that limits me.
I’m many things. I’m a son, a brother, a cousin, a nephew, a teammate, and most importantly a friend. I’m a goalkeeper. I’m a Son of Gondor (Dol Amroth, to be specific)** at heart. I’m an academic team captain. I’m a very average piano player. I’m a student. I’m a liberal Democrat. And I’m a smart kid with a messed-up lip. So call me Andrew, Bates, Andy Master, BTG, or cleffy (at your own embarrassment), but know that if you label me I will prove you wrong with great satisfaction.
Andrew “BTG” Bates
*I feel the same about “cocky bastard”; it’s lazy and jealous. Besides, I am in fact immensely grateful for the tools that I’ve been given, and I have been humbled many times over by such forces of nature as the Dunbar academic team and Anita Tope. **If you understand this reference we can be friends—tall and fair swan friends in shining robes of deep blue and silver guided by the noble Prince Imrahil.
I’m struggling guys. I can honestly say that I have faced a challenge when trying to decide on what to write. If you know me, I’m an open book, but I’m not one to get touchy-feely and sensitive and spill my emotions onto a screen as I confess the reasons why I am who I am today. However, I was thinking of that last statement, “the reasons why I am who I am today”, and I think I’ve found my challenge leading to change. As many of you know, I was pleasantly in a relationship with a young man who I found to not exactly be “my type”. He pushed me in finding out who I really am and what really makes me happy and where I want to go in life and the things I think I might want years down the road. He pushed me in defining parts of myself, parts of my morals, my faith, etc. as he took me to church, family outings, frog-gigging, baseball games, and to my first time shooting a rifle. As we watched Duck Dynasty and listened to country music in his truck and as he begged me to hunt with him. The dooming question that eventually resulted in the end of our relationship was, how can we make each other so happy, yet be so different? Throughout this relationship, I was asked to define parts of myself that I haven’t ventured to do so before. My mind is not one that wanders 10 years into the future, I prefer to live in the present. Thus, a huge challenge for me was competing with his sense of future awareness, and my constant concern with the busy week ahead of me. With this junior year, full of challenging classes, a GSP application, an all-state audition, a pageant, a campaign for an office at a conference, and strenuous extracurriculars, I don’t take a breath to think about my future past college and past an occupational label. He challenged me to define who I am, and I just did not want to be defined. After the relationship ended, I took a step back to look at my life. What consumed most of it, what I enjoyed doing, where I could possibly see myself in the future. I contemplated things like where my morals originated from, what I really think will happen to me when I pass away, and whether or not I am living the life I want to live. This mere relationship changed me, in ways that I probably wouldn’t have seen if it weren’t for him, so I have nothing but thanks to give. No, I still have not defined the things he wanted me to, but now I am attempting to define them for different reasons.
Since you replied on mine, I wanted to return the favor! I loved hearing your story and learning more about you as an individual. What I personally love about your blog is how much I can relate to it. I will spare you the long story, but I love reading posts I can relate to.
Something I would like to hear more about would be to hear how you get yourself motivated for planning for the future now. Is your past boyfriend your main motivation? Do you just tell yourself to do it? Is it something you hate doing, planning for the future? Or do you enjoy it now?
Just something to think about:) Thank you for sharing your story with us.
Sometimes unexpected events can challenge us and we have to get through them. Everyone is faced with a challenge at some point in their life; some good and some bad. I was faced with a challenge and even though I was only seven years old, I remember almost every detail about that day like it was just yesterday.
It was a cold December Sunday afternoon. I remember because it was freezing and snow had covered the ground. I was wearing a nice white shirt with ruffled sleeves and my favorite purple gloves to keep my fingers warm. After church that day my family and I were supposed to make Christmas candy with my Nana.
When church was over I rode home with my Aunt and little cousin. We had to stop by their house to pick up the chocolate. I walked up the sidewalk to their front door. Watching my cousin toddle along behind me, making sure her footprints were exactly in the same spots where mine were in the snow.
We got inside and the first thing we did was run to her room to play. She had to show me all of her toys, games, books and dresses. My Aunt came in the room while we were playing and told my cousin that whatever she did to not open the door next to her room. Both of them knew what was behind that door, but I had no clue. I was curious, but I listened to my Aunt and went along playing and didn’t bother the door.
My cousin which was two at the time asked me if I wanted to see her puppy. I told her I would love to see it. I was sitting on the floor rummaging through her toy box expecting for her to bring back a stuffed puppy. I watched her go into the hallway and open the door that had been forbidden by my Aunt. All of a sudden this huge bear-like thing ran towards me. It was so heavy I could feel it on top of me; I thought my ribs were going to break. I heard loud woofs in my ears and felt warm dog breath on my face. I couldn’t see anything; all I knew was that my mouth hurt terribly. I got the monster off of me and looked down to see that my white shirt with ruffled sleeves was no longer white, instead, a dark red. That “puppy” had bitten or clawed or I done I don’t even know what to my face.
I ran crying to the bathroom because I didn’t understand what was happening. I told my cousin to go get my Aunt. I looked at myself in the mirror and all I saw was red. My puffy eyes, red from crying and red blood, gushing from my mouth, which was going all over the place. I had never seen so much blood in my seven years on this earth. Relief came over me when my Aunt, who is a doctor, came rushing into the bathroom with a white washcloth and an ice pack. I could see the panic in her face and the confused expression on my cousin’s face as she waited in the hallway.
After washing my face, the washcloth was no longer white either, once again that same dark red. I could see that my upper lip had a tear in it. I was freaking out because I could move my lip back and forth and knew that wasn’t supposed to happen. My Aunt looked at me and told me that the cut was too deep and that I needed stitches. I had never been to the emergency room let alone ever get stitches. I wasn’t even sure what stitches were. I pictured some old lady knitting my face up and was so scared.
We got in the car, ready to begin our frightening journey to the hospital. I couldn’t stop crying, I was so scared and wasn’t sure what was going to happen. I sat in my seat with an ice pack wrapped in a blue washcloth. The bleeding had slowed down but my whole face throbbing. It felt like it had a heartbeat of its own. I looked at my cousin beside me. She was staring; her confused expression still had not changed. I thought about how she must’ve been wondering why her “puppy”, a 100lb adult Siberian husky, had made me cry. I could hear my Aunt on the phone with my mom, telling her what had just happened in the surprisingly past ten minutes. It all happened so fast.
The waiting room was terrifying with no color and not very many people. By that time I had stopped crying, but I couldn’t say anything, the only noise coming out of me was my uncontrollable snubbing. People starred at me as they walked by, but I didn’t care. My mouth felt as though it was going to fall off. I still didn’t understand why this had to of happen. I just wanted to go make Christmas candy. Most of all I wanted my mom to be there with me.
After what felt like hours, my name was called. I went into the room to find that there was no old lady waiting with pointy knitting needles but a nice nurse who had a warm reassuring smile on her face. She told me that it felt worse than how bad it actually was and that I only needed three stiches. I held my Aunts hand and whimpered every time I felt the needle go through one side of my flesh and back out the other. Ouch!
When the quick torture was over, I looked in the mirror and there was a black lump on the corner of my upper lip. I was thankful the bleeding had stopped and the throbbing had gone away but now I was concerned about how embarrassing it was going to be to walk in class on Monday which was the next day. I was afraid all the other kids were going to make fun of me or think it was gross. Third graders can be harsh sometimes.
On Monday morning I cried and begged my mom to let me stay home. I couldn’t face my class because I looked so weird. My mom walked me to class that day and explained to my teacher the eventful weekend we had just experienced. My teacher understood and told me I could share my story with the whole class.
At first I was nervous, and then I saw their intrigued faces. No one else in my class had as an exciting weekend as I did or had ever gotten stitches before, so it was cool to be the first one. The kids didn’t make fun of me or get grossed out, they thought my stitches were awesome and said it looked like I had a mini mustache. Everyone asked me all kinds of questions and told me how brave I was. I felt like a celebrity. I had worried for nothing.
This was a challenge in my life I’ve had to overcome. Even though I overcame the events of that day and going to school the next day, I was left with the fear that every dog would bite my face off and an ugly scar on my lip. As I’ve grown older and am now sixteen, I am no longer scared of dogs but would much rather not be around them, I prefer cats. As for my scar, its barely noticeable and most of the time I don’t pay any attention to it. I feel like my story is proof that challenges can be overcame.
For a lot of people sports are just something they do because their parents want them to do it or because they’re bored with their lives. My passion for soccer goes far beyond what other people want or expect of me, it’s what I want for myself not only for the present but for my future and the rest of my life.
At age 4 my parents signed me up for the YMCA recreational soccer league. Most kids at that age just play so they have something to do and granted that’s why my parents had signed me up. However, most kids drop out as they get older but I didn’t. I played YMCA rec soccer fall and spring season until I got to middle soccer at the age of 12. My 6th grade year in middle school I tried out for the middle school soccer team, at that time in my life I had never tried out for anything ever before. I was ecstatic to find out that I had made the team. Since middle school soccer was in the spring I had no choice but to drop out of rec soccer since it conflicted too much with school soccer. One of the best parts of playing soccer in general and especially on that team is that I played on with people that I know.
As each person grew with skill we adapted and learned how to play together well. When I got to 8th grade I decide to be a part of the WHHS JV soccer team. It was an amazing experience to see and play soccer on a high school level. Playing JV just motivated me more to want to play soccer all throughout high school. When I got to high school soccer the biggest challenge for me was managing my time. Along with soccer I was a member of the band, dance team, track team, and of course I had to manage school work. Somehow though I happen to always work it out perfectly and balance all my obligations and activities. Another challenge in high school soccer was the fact that every year we lost a coach so we had to gain a new one. Adapting to new coaching style every year was hard however, as a team we worked together to overcome the difficulties.
I feel that this past fall season of soccer has been I and my teams’ most successful year yet. We beat Franklin County in the city championship, got runners up in districts, and made it to regionals which WHHS hadn’t done since 2006. The best feeling in the world to me is knowing that you helped achieve greatness in a way you never knew you had the ability to do. These precious moments in high school helped me realize that I wanted to further my soccer career beyond high school and into college. My sophomore year I joined Commonwealth Soccer Club, which is a traveling soccer team that plays on a much higher level. Through this team I met many new talented people who were as serious about soccer as me. This team also helped me grow as a soccer player.
I could never have accomplished so much with soccer without my parents who support me know matter what I decide and push me to be the best I can be. I’m so grateful for all the abilities that God has blessed me with because I know without him nothing I do is possible. A lot people might think that it’s crazy to call a sport your passion but soccer is something I love and has shaped who I am not just as a player but as a person, without it I don’t know what I would do. CHANGING from different levels of soccer has CHALLENGED me to make CHOICES that will impact my life forever. It’s hard to believe that I will close the door to my journey with high school soccer next year but I look forward to opening a new door to my soccer career in my future.
We each are still very young, and will have countless choices to make and challenges to face as we progress through our lives. The challenge that I've encountered is one that is fairly common in today's society, yet still affects me profoundly; the challenge that is most prominent in my life is the divorce of my parents.
At the age of six, most of us are frolicking around and having fun with childhood, as most children do. I was six when my parents got divorced. Fortunately, there was no fighting between my parents and it wasn't messy at all. Nevertheless, it was still a rough time for me, as a six year old has no idea what is truly happening.
Ever since then, I have been going to a different parent's house every week, and it has really become commonplace for me. I pack some items, and switch. And I don't mind it as much as I used to, because I know it's for the better.
Now, I am fortunate in that I have two parents who I love and love me and my sister, otherwise they wouldn't have been so civil during the divorce. Since then, both of my parents have remarried and are very happy, as am I. I know that life could be better, but it could also be much worse, so I'm ever-appreciative of what I have.
Cameron, this is a very good story, something that can relate to a lot of people and it’s something I didn't know about you. I feel like it would be an even better and stronger piece if you added more details about what happened to you. Be more personal in your writing. Yes, I know it was a hard time for you, but be more personal about it. How did you truly feel? You were young, were you confused on what was happening? Tell us more about it; be open with your audience. I know this is just a first draft, but maybe consider going into more depth with your paragraphs you already have. In my opinion, they’re too quick and to the point, I bet you have a lot more to say on the subject. Overall, good story.
We each are still very young, and will have countless choices to make and challenges to face as we progress through our lives. The challenge that I've encountered is one that is fairly common in today's society, yet still affects me profoundly; the challenge that is most prominent in my life is the divorce of my parents.
At the age of six, most of us are frolicking around and having fun with childhood, as most children do. I was six when my parents got divorced. Fortunately, there was no fighting between my parents and it wasn't messy at all. Nevertheless, it was still a rough time for me, as a six year old has no idea what is truly happening.
Ever since then, I have been going to a different parent's house every week, and it has really become commonplace for me. I pack some items, and switch. And I don't mind it as much as I used to, because I know it's for the better.
Now, I am fortunate in that I have two parents who I love and love me and my sister, otherwise they wouldn't have been so civil during the divorce. Since then, both of my parents have remarried and are very happy, as am I. I know that life could be better, but it could also be much worse, so I'm ever-appreciative of what I have.
PART 1 Every athlete is bound to face some sort of adversity during their career, it’s inevitable. How that athlete overcomes said adversity is what truly defines them as a person and establishes their character. All athletes have a story to tell, so here is mine. Some of you have knowledge of my skill at golf. Judging by what I’ve heard, it seems as though everyone thinks that it’s all a nice sparkling success story. It isn’t. It’s actually a dark, emotional struggle that has tested my perseverance and character. One year in particular affected me in ways that a season had never affected me before. It was the summer of 2012. School had just ended and the new golf season was on the horizon. I had registered to participate in a touring competitive golf program called “Kentucky Junior PGA Tour”. They host many tournaments during the summer that you can sign up to participate in. I had been placed in the advanced division as a 15 year old, playing with guys of any age, typically 16-18. In my first tournament of the year, I stepped onto the tee to find I was paired with a boy who was 18 and was going to play golf at Transylvania in the fall. Even when met with this challenge, I thought to myself, “I’m Chris freaking Hughes, I can beat this guy. No problem.” Of course that wasn’t the case. I came in second place in the tournament with a disgraceful score of 82, ten strokes above par. The trip back to Frankfort wasn’t pretty. There was anger, and plenty of it. In the next few tournaments, the losses began piling up, and my hope began to shrivel. Now I had arrived upon the final tournament of the season, the Tournament of Champions. I had convinced myself that this is where I would get my good karma and finally have a good showing after the horrible regular season. Again, I was mistaken. Do you know how hard it is to suffer for 6 hours? To watch your dreams fall flat in front of you as you aimlessly attempt to navigate between trees and bunkers and ponds? To finish in last place? I hope none of you do, it’s the most painful experience you can endure. Its mere torture. I wanted to quit golf so bad. I wanted to throw in the towel and send my clubs into the garage to rust. I wanted the pain and suffering to end, and the only way that seemed possible was to give up. When I finally came to my senses, I decided to stick with it one more year, and see if I could find success, just one more year.
PART 2 Summer of 2013 had arrived. It was my time to shine and prove to everyone that I am a golfer, and a damned good one at that. My first tournament was in Elizabethtown, where I earned third place with a score of 78, six strokes above par. “That’s it. I am going to win. All of these other players will be asking for my autograph because of the talent that is about to rush over this tour.” I thought to myself. My next tournament was in Shelbyville, where I shot 73 and won by 10 strokes. The next day, I won again. Now I found myself in contention for player of the year. “You can do it Chris. You’ve earned this” I kept telling myself. In my last tournament of the regular season, I found myself in second place overall for player of the year, and I was playing in a tournament with the boy who was in first place. After the dust had settled, I shot 76, he shot 77. Now I had the lead, and the other players shuddered at the mention of my name. Now, I just had to survive the tournament of champions. I finished the tournament with a two day score of 156 (which is quite disgraceful at that) and won player of the year. It took about 2 days before it all resonated in my head that I just beat everyone, I was triumphant, and I was the best, all because I decided to stick with it one more fateful year. The moral of the story, as cliché as it sounds, never give up. You can never reap the fruits of your efforts if you quit and throw your ambitions away. Success and triumph are born out of adversity and struggle. That’s why they are so admired. At the end of the summer in 2012 I was faced with a choice, to quit or to keep trying. Now you can see the good that that decision has brought to my life. My once dying passion for golf was reignited and is burning bright. Now, instead of being a story of failure, I’m a story of success.
The thought of playing an instrument had always intrigued me. The way musicians were able to create such beautiful art from a handheld object. So in the 6th grade when I was given the opportunity to join band but little did I know the challenge it would be. I had picked the flute from a long list of instruments thinking it would be fairly simple and fun but turns out it wasn’t. After only a couple of weeks I hated it and begged my mom to let me quit band or switch instruments. She tried to talk sense into me the way mothers often do by saying “What are you gonna play? Being good at anything takes work.” I thought about it for a second and replied, “But it’s so hard!” “Anything worthwhile is.” She told me. Those words stuck with me. By Christmas, I had worked hard enough and was able to play the music our band director had given out for our Holiday concert. I was so pleased with myself. It made me so appreciative when my relatives would come up to me and say, “You did so good, I could hear you playing!” Looking back on that now, I know they couldn’t hear me play, hearing a single flute in an ensemble is impossible. However, their words definitely made me ecstatic. I didn’t realize it at the time but what my mom told me, helped me and even motivated me to not give up. As a junior looking back, I’m so glad my mom was there for me. She had guided me through a challenge and I hope to someday do the same for my kids. Without her advice I wouldn’t have made EKU honor band or have as many amazing friends as I do. I guess the point of this story isn’t really the challenge I faced, it’s the way challenges can work out for good and sometimes bring people together. -Courtnie Carr
I think it's really cool how you're expressing your appreciation to your parents and family for encouraging you. The challenges you faced in picking up the instrument were things you worked through and that's pretty inspiring for those who may be working through obstacles of their own. A suggestion I would give would be to go into more detail on what you did specifically to improve your flute playing.
I remember simpler times back in elementary school when everybody got along and nobody judged or bullied anybody. There were no “popular” kids or nerdy ones. We were just simple innocent kids. I don't know what happened, but as we got older everything started to change. What was once barren land became the tallest of mountains and deepest of seas (my metaphorical social ladder). The popular kids inhabited the mountains and took over the land, but it was twisted. When did we decide that to be popular we had to hurt others? It is just stupid to think that way. I was stupid to think that way. I don't know what it was but I love the mountains and the people that inhabited it. I loved to be accepted and it is what I thought was most important. Isn't that what every parent wants for their kids?
At our school, they taught us that it was good to be different. Maybe we thought that at one time, but everybody has their own limits on what's too different. For us 8 year olds, too different was a kid named Sam (Sam represents all the people we bullied). Sam probably wanted to fit in just like everybody else, but he was too nice and too smart and exceeded the limits of what our 3rd grade brains thought of as different. He was bullied for it. With words we brought him down. We took apart the foundation underneath his feet, stone by stone, word by word, until he fell. What did we do? What did I do? I watched him fall into the sea, preventing him from ever climbing up our mountain. I watched as the rest of my classmates climbed even higher up the mountains. I, somewhere in the middle, do not want to climb any higher; but I do anyway. I have to fit in.
When middle school came, everything changed. I felt distant from everyone. The classmates I grew up with all my life suddenly seemed different. Confused and lost, I was not sure what to do. It isn't until the sound of my name that I am filled with hope that someone will fill me in on what I missed over the summer. What l thought would be words of reassurance and guidance instead were words of offense, insult, and hate. The words were like a knife, stabbing me in the back. I couldn't breathe. I didn't slip, I was pushed. I was now falling faster than ever before. I was frantically trying to grab hold of anything that could keep me from falling into the sea. I could see my metaphorical mountain disappearing as I got closer to the ground. Until—darkness. No way out.
My name is called. I brace myself for even more hateful words, but it turned out to be the teacher asking me to tell the class about my summer. I stand up but my knees are weak. I start to shake and I can't stop myself, I have no control. I start to speak but my voice shakes just like my knees. My voice is quiet. I feel the eyes of everybody in the class on me, judging me. I start to sweat; I hear my classmates’ voices in my head turning any positive thoughts negative. The thoughts are like poison slowly killing me on the inside. I die a little. I put on a mask and promised myself never to take it off. One must not speak, one must not bring attention to themselves, one must never laugh, smile, or show true emotion. Emotion is what they feed on and I must not give them the satisfaction.
The sea is a dark and cold place. My so called "friends" became the people I disliked the most. My friends were dwellers of the sea and my best friend was Sam. My friends have taught me to never look down on someone, unless you were picking them up. I know deep inside that what they say about me doesn't matter. I am different. Different is good, but also bad. I am myself and that's what scares them, but that's also what scares me. The sea is where I live now, I have learned to love the silence, I have learned to love the cold, but most importantly I have learned to love the land and the sea and the creatures that dwell within them.
More than 55% of high school students play a sport. I used to be a part of that statistic. Sports used to be a big part of my life until I met high school. The pressures society puts on us to play sports, and to having to always be better than that certain person led to me to choose to quit playing sports in high school.
I use to be a huge lover of playing basketball. Basketball was life, everything involved me and basketball. In fact, I won the state championship free throw competition in 2011. Sports have been huge through school, as I have played for Bondurant's basketball team every single year, and played for Hill's team my freshman year.
Sports are supposed to be fun. That is the exact opposite of what I was feeling after middle school. We obsess over sports too much, and don't enjoy them anymore. We take them way too seriously. All sports are is politics anymore. Whoever knows someone that is in the hierarchy of the sport makes the team.
My life with sports were full of stress, always wanting to be better than someone else, always wanting to be the best at everything involved with the sport. I have met a happy state in my life at this point. No sports have made my life very calm and a lot happier. But with this being said, I feel like not playing a sport in high school dissociates you with others. I feel people don't feel as highly of you if you don't play a sport. Don't get me wrong, I could care less, but I know that others do. I honestly think this should not be happening, considering how happy I am without playing sports.
Don't get me wrong, I do still love to play sports for fun and to watch them, but I feel so much happier without playing on a high school team. It filled my life with stress, and envy. This choice that I made ended up making my life better, and I have ended up doing better in school, and I am just a happier person in general.
I’m sure that you all could guess right off the bat that I am going to write about soccer. Well duh, it’s my life. When one thing occupies 90% of your life it is very easy to be faced with many changes and challenges. I have many years to look back over to determine a “major change” or challenge. The unique thing about my topic is that it is both a change and a challenge. Here is my story.
I have had a soccer ball at my feet since I could walk. I have played competitively since I was 3. Until recently, I hadn’t noticed my true talent for the game. I have played for many well-known teams around the state of Kentucky, all of which consist of a tryout. AC United, Commonwealth, and LFC have all done amazing things for the development of my game.
All of those seasons, however, I have had very bad, painful, and severe injuries. Ranging from a broken wrist, broken knee, broken ankle, high ankle sprain, and the most recent, a torn hip flexor. Each of these injuries requires me to sit out for AT LEAST 6-8 weeks (maybe not the wrist). That is 6-8 weeks that I am losing that I can spend time practicing and getting myself prepared for my future.
I have had mixed emotions about this scenario. I have considered quitting competitive soccer, playing a different sport, or just sports in general. Did I choose that? Hell No. I took it as motivation and put in the work to make up for those lost months that injury brought upon me. Without the beautiful game, I would be lost in life. That is how you know you are dedicated; if you are willing to fight the battle and get better no matter what.
Personally, I believe that if I had not gotten injured, I would be a much better player. It has completely changed my view on the game, but not my mentality. I am more cautious, but I will continue to work until I make it big. Anything that comes in between me and my game, such as an injury, will only make me push through it and get better.
Currently, I have been invited to play for the River City Rovers, an academy team in Louisville. This club has no tryout. You get scouted and they ask you to come play. When I was invited, I thought to myself, only the best of the best get in, I am going to make a name for myself and play as if I had never been injured at all. Next weekend is my test, as I travel to Florida for a college showcase, where hundreds of coaches will be present. Playing teams from all around the world is going to be very tough. But you all know me, I sure as hell will never let down. I am going to make the coaches notice me, and you all never forget me.
SHOUTOUT TO THE PERSON WHO READS ALL OF THIS. MUCH LOVE.
A challenge for me that I have faced was recently this year. I have been playing basketball since I was 5 years old and have loved the game ever since I saw UK first play on TV. It is my favorite sport by far. But I was faced with a challenge this year about not playing anymore because I had just not felt the same about the game that I loved.
I just didn't feel the same about playing it and was actually thinking about walking away from the team. I just enjoyed watching it on TV way more than actually playing it and just didn't feel like I could play anymore and would rather work and get money instead. But the most important thing to me was disappointing my mom or my dad. They have grown up going and supporting me in games and I just didn't want to take that away from them this close to my senior year, I would've felt bad about that.
But the bright thing about talking to my parents about that was they said they wouldn't be upset with me or disappointed in me in any way. They would also still support my decision to walk away from the game that I love.
But in my heart, I made the decision that I felt was best for me and that was playing this year and I couldn't be happier with my decision to continue to play the game I love.
Part #1 About seven years ago, I faced one of the biggest changes I have ever faced and probably will ever face. Somebody very close to my heart became addicted to prescription pain killers. Five and a half years ago, during fall break of my sixth grade year at Bondurant, she then decided that she was going to start making trips to Florida once a month to the pain clinic to get the prescription pain killers at a higher dosage because her body had become immune to the ones they prescribe here in Kentucky. This one change has led me to make choices, face challenges, and deal with multiple changes. The challenges that I was faced with in the midst of all of this being in action ranged from praying that the electric would be on when I got home, to not being able to tell anybody what was happening. I worried about little things, and big things. Was I going to get dinner that day? Was I going to have clean or even different clothes to wear to school the next day? Would I have electric and hot water that night? Would I get picked up from school, or was she arrested? Where would I be sleeping that night? I faced physical challenges like these, but I also faced other problems. Problems with not feeling safe riding in the car with her, or hoping she would stay awake long enough to actually carry on a simple conversation with me. Would her brain be working at all that day? Only if I was lucky. After facing all of these challenges on my own, without telling anybody because I didn’t want to be torn away from my “best friend” , something bigger happened. The police showed up at my house, the SWAT team looking for her and her boyfriend because they were in trouble. I finally realized that we weren’t staying other places because our house was cold; it was because they were hiding and they just drug me with them. ~Kali Whitaker
Part #2 It was time that I made a choice, before things got any worse. I told my grandmother what was happening and she talked her into letting me stay with her until she was for sure out of trouble. Staying at Meme’s (my grandmother’s) turned into moving in. It was my choice but it lead to challenges of being sacred to go to school because she might try to check me out to get me back, or being scared to go into public because I might run into her or she might try to find me. It was an everyday fight for her to let me stay at Meme’s where I was safe because she despised us with that choice, she did anything to try to get me back. It eventually turned into a forever thing because I made the choice to allow Meme to take it to the court system to get custody, in May of 2013 she officially gained custody and I no longer had to worry about anything but grades, friends, and normal 16 year old stuff; so I thought. “One of the hardest lessons in life is letting go: Whether it’s guilt, anger, love, loss, etc. Change is never easy, you fight to hold on, and you fight to let go.” –Unknown There is guilt from not telling somebody earlier so she could maybe get help before everything kept getting worse. There is anger, just from not knowing why. Why do people feel the need to turn to stuff like that? Why do they like it? What is the point of throwing your life away like that? There is love, and always will be because she was one of the most important people in my life, and I watched her push everybody away just from one change. There is loss, because I basically lost her, she’s not the same anymore and she never will be the same. She has permanent affects from them. I fought for five and a half years on my own, and then fought for her with the family for 2 years because we continued to hold on to the idea that she would wake up one day and realize what she has done; to herself, to her family, and to her life. I still have hopes that she might make something out of it, but I lose more and more hope every day. I fought to let go, I am still fighting to let go. I have finally begun to realize that I am not doing any good by worrying more than she is. I have to let go. My family and I have done everything in our power to make her realize what she has done and what she is doing, but it just doesn’t work. She refuses to listen. I will never forget when she looked at me and said “I could quit if I wanted to, but I don’t want to. I like it.” That is when I realized that I have to let go, I still haven’t completely, but I am getting there. ~Kali Whitaker
You “know” me… Don’t get me wrong, I love helping other people more than anything, it makes me feel so good, but sometimes, it can be a hassle. My problem? I struggle to say “no”, and that can cause me to take on more than I can handle. I am like a mother, running around to comply with the needs of my infinite flock of children. As I do with my mother, I am the first person many people run to when they need something. “Toe, I need you to take me to the store, I need you to braid my hair, I need you to pick me up, I need advice, help me out”. I am the first person many people run to demand when they need something. You would think a little consideration of my schedule would be in place… but quite often my children find an excuse as to what I am to demanded to do for someone is more important than what I am doing for myself. Sometimes, I need help, and I need advice, and I need someone to be there for me. But I don’t let that show, I try to keep a smile on my face and pray it’s contagious. I try to show that I am strong and fearless. A lot of emotions stay bottled in, and sometimes, in the mix of caring for everyone, I start to break down, farther and farther. And that is when I need the most help, and the most advice, and most amount of people to be there for me. I will always be there at everyone’s beckoning call, because that is just who I am. Nevertheless, once I learn that I am not “super mom” and I can’t take on every task that I am presented with, helping others will be way more enjoyable than it already is.
For a lot of people this is a very relatable topic, it's something that can turn into serious problems, and in a way I sort of felt your pain at one point (sorta.) I think it's great though that you've included what you feel you need to fix the problem. As far as the actual piece itself, a more length and bit of indentation would help a lot :D
I had unexplained bruises and scars on my knees and elbows in early elementary school but thought nothing of it given I was very active. We would ask doctors if it was anything to worry about and they didn't seem concerned. It wasn't until I had Mononucleosis in 4th grade that we realized there was something more to the scars and bruises. Turned out that I have Juvenile Dermatomyositis (JDM) a 3 in 1,000,000 autoimmune disease. My immune system began fighting off the bacteria from mono which took a few weeks but after getting rid of the mono never went back to performing its normal functions. My immune system was still acting like there was something it need to get rid of, but there wasn't. It started eating away at muscle tissue. Soon I was by far the slowest my player on my soccer and couldn't lift my arms over my head. To put a shirt on I would throw it up and catch it on my head then pull it the rest of the way on. I began medication, tests, and physical therapy towards the end of 4th grade. At the time the disease was active in my body I didn't know that it was unsure if I would walk in the future or how long I would even live. It wasn't until I was put in remission that I knew. I think that was very important in the process of my recovery, not having a doubt that I wouldn't recover. During my recovery one of the medications I was on ate a hole in my stomach and almost ruptured my spleen forcing me into emergency surgery. Nothing ruptured and everything ended up being okay. That surgery was just a minor challenge within the larger challenge of JDM. Today I have been in remission for a little over a year. With the help of doctors who diagnosed me and led me on the path to recovery as well as many physical therapists and my rheumatoid arthritis specialist in Louisville who helped me through the medication and continues to check up on me annually. I am now healthier and stronger than I was before and most couldn't tell anything was ever wrong with me. Sometimes I even forget I went through all of it.
When coming to high school you should expect new changes, new experiences, new friends, and a whole new level of choices you're eventually going to have to face. I was a freshmen in high school when the choice of drinking knocked on my front door. Of course, like any new freshmen in high school, I think you can guess what my choice was and the outcome was not pretty. But as they say the worst decisions make the best stories. This story is one my friends and I will indeed, never forget.
It all started when one of my friend's had gotten the alcohol and asked me and another friend if we wanted to drink that night. I had never gotten drunk before and couldn't think of a better way to do it than with some friends. So the three of us went back to my house and patiently waited for my mom to go to sleep. Once she was asleep, the fun began. We drank and drank and drank. I'm sure you can assume that this didn't end so well. Not knowing my limits, I drank till I blacked out. But there's a factor that comes into play that we didn't even think about being young and stupid; My mother. At this point one of my friends has initially peed her pants and needs to be cleaned up. So as my other friend takes care of the one who peed her pants they leave me behind in my room. This is where it all went wrong. I bust through the door and attempt to run through out the rest of the house chasing after my friends. Apparently I was a tad bit too loud and ran into a couple of walls, this resulted in my mother waking up in a not so pleasant mood. Apparently my other two friends got an earful from my mom, thankfully I don't remember a thing.
There were many other embarrassing details that could be said but I think I've shared enough for this post. Long story short, we made a stupid decision and got into a large amount of trouble for it. But now that we look back on it we joke around about that night all the time, including my mom. The point is everyone is going to make the wrong choice but our choices make us who we are today. We learn from our mistakes and make some pretty good memories along the way. To me, that's all that matters.
In sense of an essay, just use more detail if you'd be able to to make it more unique. On a personal note, everyone needs to learn whats a good idea and what isn't, and we all learn through our mistakes. So you made a bad choice, but learned from it and moved on with your life without making it again. So bravo to you Whitley
Courageous. Enthusiastic. Gregarious. Industrious, most importantly, Confident. I used to believe in myself. I might have been the most self-assured person you would come across, back then. I used to be self-disciplined. Even when there wasn’t practice, I practiced. I used to be full of life. Always running to have attention, entertaining the biggest crowd, back then. I used to be obedient. You told me to jump, I’d ask how high. I used to be a leader. When you need someone to step up, I was always there, back then. Softball. It’s my thing, my calling you could say. But one year, one of the most crucial years of my career, everything changed. Who would have thought that I, #5, would let someone, a coach, get in my head. Who would have thought that I, “princess makay”, would let someone ones words take me down. Who would have thought that I, Makayla Hawkins, would let someone dull my shine. But words and actions hurt. Hurt more than I ever knew. You said I’d never amount to much. I never left the bench. You said I wasn’t good enough, and you were right, I never thought I was. Cowardly. Apathetic. Timid. Indolent, and most importantly, unsure. Now, I am misunderstood. I have it in me, I just don’t know where. Now, I am weak. I have no drive, I can’t push myself. Now, I am scared. Attention makes me quiver. Now, I am uncertain. You tell me to jump. I say I can’t. Now, I am hidden. I can’t lead others until I can lead myself. I am not who I used to be. And for some, you never knew, because part of my final fight was to not let this show through. I didn’t want to change as a person, I liked the life I lived, but for some reason I couldn’t hold on. But there was one thing I could do. I pretended for so long that I was the same athlete that I was. But I wasn’t. And I’m still not. - Makayla Hawkins
Sixteen candles on the cake, burning, as you breathe in to prepare yourself to extinguish them. Turning sixteen is a milestone that I had looked forward to ever since I could remember. I had it built up in my mind that it was some grand occasion; that this one day, this one birthday in particular could transform your life. It did bring about a change in my life, one that I never could have expected.
Excitement had filled me as I stood in line at the county clerk’s office to fill out the necessary paperwork to take the drivers permit test. My legs were shaking as the lady behind the counter asked for two forms of identification. The paperwork was filled out and my sister and I were told to go down the hallway to find the testing room. I had read the drivers manual carefully and felt confident in my abilities to pass the test. I walked into the room first and was told to sit down, that I would be taking the vision test now. Easy I thought to myself. My last visit to the eye doctor had given my comfort in this portion of the test as I had twenty-twenty vision in both eyes. I pressed my head against the bar. Everything was blurry. Something had to be wrong. I pressed my forehead against the bar with more pressure this time. Nothing changed. What had happened? What had changed in two years? Why was I not able to decipher the letters and numbers? I had to leave the testing room, feeling defeated, as Rachel went on to pass and receive her permit. My mom tried to comfort me by telling me nothing was wrong. Something had to be wrong.
A few weeks later, I visited the eye doctor terrified. I was positive that I would leave that building with horrible news. My mind always wanders to the most extreme conclusions, and it had not skipped this opportunity. The appointment started like all the others. I was placed in a room to stare at a wall and describe the letters and numbers I saw. My left eye like usual had no problem reading the last row. Now, my right eye’s turn. The ease turned to struggle. I was only able to read a couple of lines. It was shocking to see the dramatic difference that closing one eye could make. With my mind creating stories, I felt as if I was going to throw up. The next step was the numbing of my eyes, which I usually hate, but with everything else that was going on, it seemed like a piece of cake. Sitting in the waiting room, silently, eyes dilated, thinking about how ironic it is that they have magazines out here, I finally accept that no matter the outcome I have to live with it.
The doctor motions for us to follow him for an additional examination. He waits until the very end of the appointment to even mention the rapid change that my eye has gone through. He isn’t certain but his diagnosis is keratoconus. Keratoconus is a disease that affects the shape of the cornea. With this disease, the normal clear, dome shape of the cornea transitions into a thin, cone shape which causes blurred vision and sensitivity to light. It continues to get gradually worse. At the beginning, its effects can be partially mediated by glasses, but as time goes on it requires a corneal transplant. Me being the squeamish person that I am, hearing the word transplant caused my heart to skip a beat.
Additional testing is needed, but at this time all I could do was get glasses. With glasses ordered the next step was specific testing to map my eye. Appointments were set up, tests were completed, and the results were in. Now I had a visual to explain the difference between my left eye and my diseased eye. I had visuals that showed the difference in elevation between an eye with kertoconus and one without. The proof was right there in the red, hourglass shaped regions. The realization that at some point I may lose the remaining vision in my right eye hits me.
At the age of sixteen I am faced with a change and a challenge that 1 in every 1,500 experience.
As you may know I am not a very talkative or loud person, I like to keep to myself unless I know you very well and feel very comfortable around you. I’m not you what would call a “people person” and is that such a bad thing? I’m not going to walk right up to you and be the best of friends with you, I like to figure out what makes you tick and how you approach things before I let my wall down towards you. It takes a while for me to warm up to you, that doesn’t mean I’m going to bed rude to you right off the bat- you’ll just be at arm’s length. My constant challenge day to day is trying to have a middle ground between a “quiet person” and a “social person”, some people think that if you are a quiet person you automatically don’t have any friends or social skills and this may be true for some people but not for me.
Being a quiet person is not classified as being socially impaired in my book rather just someone who rather watch first then do. I want to be social and have friends but at times-yes, I don’t want to constantly be talking to someone or be the center of attention. I don’t mind people saying “why are you so quiet?”, “why don’t you talk much?”, or “your just a quiet person, I understand” because really if they actually knew me, you would know that I’m a different person than that. I struggle to have a balance between being more vocal and my current personality because I don’t want people thinking that I’m a stuck up person because I don’t speak to them or that I don’t like them, I just don’t at that time don’t have anything in particular to say, so I feel like I shouldn’t say anything at all.
I’d like to right my wrongs to anyone that thinks I don’t like them; it’s not that at all I just have trouble with letting people in before I know them. This challenge goes along with my quiet personality as I don’t right away want to know your life story or even small talk because it makes me uncomfortable and you probably too, because I am very awkward at times. I do come out of my shell every now and then and I am proud of myself when I do so because I know that person who I had just talked too, I made them smile or laugh. I admit I am not an easy person to like or be friends with but is it such a bad thing to only have a few close friends or people rather than a bunch of people that say they are your friends but not really. I like to think that my personality is almost a defense mechanism that lets me think I am staying away from the people that will mostly like hurt me or some sort of that outcome. In reality it’s just a way to hide my real personality from other people. I can truthfully say I act different when I’m with my friends or family than I do at when I’m with my peers.
To overcome this challenge of being an unbalanced person with two different personalities I became involved in many clubs and organizations through my high school years. The most impactful one was being thoroughly involved with FFA, it has truly changed my life in many different ways. Through this is I am able to be more vocal of my thoughts and opinions as well as forming new relationships with many people so that I can truly come out of my shell. I don’t want to be known as the “quiet girl” but as the quiet girl that was also social and friendly. Some people may not classify this as a challenge for them but it is for me and I try each and every day to balance my personality rather than being an extreme of the other and this may always be a challenge for me but that doesn’t mean it should hold me back from being who I am. Bailey Bishop
Part 1 I’m sure almost everyone can say that they’ve been through a challenge of some sort, had a type of change in their life, or had to sit down and take the time to make a choice. These three things are constantly happening within our lives. I would like to share a something personal that has happened in my life where all three of the “C’s” came into play. Not a lot of people know what I am about to write and I’m sure of you all will be shocked by it too. Here it goes…
First, let me explain how people see me. The girl who is very talkative. The girl who doesn’t have any problems. The girl who has it pretty good. The girl who can take people’s jokes but it really does hurt her deep down. The girl who will straight up how it is regardless. Some of those assumptions are right and some are mistaken by many. There has been one constant struggle that I’ve hidden pretty much my entire life.
My dad and I haven’t had much of a relationship pretty much my entire life. Yes, my parents are still married and we all live together, but my dad and I never really talk. As a child, all of my good and fun memories are with my mom. As I began to grow up I finally started to understand why my dad and I didn’t have a good relationship, why he was hardly ever there for me. My dad is an alcoholic. He is not physically abusive but more emotionally. Just imagine, someone who is supposed to love you and protect you and raise you into the adult you will be one day calling you worthless, saying they wished they never had you as a daughter. Telling you that you were a mistake. Yes, it hurts more than anyone can ever imagine. That little saying, “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me” is total bullshit. Words hurt. I’m pretty sure everyone can agree to that. There have been countless of times where I would believe the things that he has said. I would question things like “Why am I here if he hates me so much? How could my mom let him do this to me? If I am so worthless why am I even alive?” Needless to say I have overcome the struggle of asking myself those questions. Yes, it has affected who I am as a person but it does not define me. It is the reason why I usually keep things all bottled up inside. The reason why it’s hard for me to trust people. The reason I am so hesitant to let people into my life because I’m scared they’re going to just walk out on me whenever it is convenient for them. Most people couldn’t even imagine that this would be going on in my life. I try to be a happy, positive person who always has a smile upon her face. I tend to not share personal things with people because I feel as though I will look weak or be judged. This would be considered the challenge/change I have faced my entire life and I am still facing it to this day.
My dad’s problem has obviously made me make various choices. As a teenager I have learned that I cannot let my dad’s problem stop me from being Hannah. I can’t let it stop me from achieving my future goals in my life. I can’t let it determine my future and my life. Statistics do show that alcoholism does indeed run in families. I am not going to let some silly statistic tell me that I am going to one day end up like my father. The biggest and most important choice I have made with this situation is coming to terms with my dad’s problem and accepting it. Very few people know this but I have actually been attending therapy to just have someone different to talk to. No, just because I go and see a therapist doesn’t mean I’m psychotic or anything like that. I just simply have someone else to talk to about my situation other than my mom and various friends who I chose to share with. Learning to accept my dad’s problem and knowing that I can’t stop it no matter how hard I try. -Hannah Tice
Part 2 Basically to sum it all up, I have been through hell and back in my sixteen years of living. Not going to lie about that. I have finally accepted the fact that you cannot help someone who wants to be helped or change someone who doesn’t want to change. I have realized that his problem is not because of me. Many of times I have questioned if it was. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love my dad more than anything. I have begged him countless of times to stop or to try and get help. He says he will but let me tell you, actions DO speak louder than words. He will always be my dad and I cannot change that. Now that I have accepted my dad’s problem, it has lifted a million pound weight off my shoulders. Now I worry about Hannah and Hannah only. I am now focused on only my problems and only my future. -Hannah Tice
There are many different topics I could talk about that have changed my life, but there is one in particular that I would like to talk about. It is the divorce of my parents. Now I know this is a very common topic to talk about, but this is the biggest change I’ve had to face in my life so far. Most kids whose parents are still together think that a divorce isn’t a huge deal, but it really does take a toll on your life as a whole. My whole life growing up, my parents would fight all the time. At least two or three times a week, I would have to listen to them going back and forth. It was usually my dad who would start the arguments. He is a control freak, so if something doesn’t go his way, he snaps which quickly results to him screaming at the top of his lungs. I’m pretty sure he has an anger issue. After a month of nothing but fighting, my dad decided to move out for a month or so to see if he could calm his anger down. Once he was back in the house again, everything seemed as if had resolved itself. They were getting along greatly and he wasn’t yelling at all. I couldn’t be happier with what I was seeing. I would soon figure out that this wouldn’t last forever. Things started to get bad again and before too long, they were as worse as they had ever been. My dad was constantly yelling and we couldn’t seem to find any solution to it so my mom finally decided to take charge.
In the middle of my sixth grade year, my mom decided that she was going to move out, but this time, for good. Of course my dad was not in favor of her choice, but there was nothing he was going to do to stop her. After school one day, they sat down my brother and I to tell us the news. Even though we weren’t shocked, we were still heartbroken. After she moved out, I just felt kind of lost in the world. Moving from house to house every few days was really hard to get used to. I would forget things I needed for school all the time which would make my dad angry that he would have to go back. Every time I went to his house, we would always end up arguing over something stupid.
I never thought that things would work out between my parents, but after a few years, they have actually started to get along better. My mom remarried a couple of years ago and he is a really good guy. He treats her great which is exactly what she deserves. I just wanted my mom to be happy and now that she finally is, I am too.
As I prepare to write this post, I realize how fortunate I really am; and actually feeling a bit guilty for what I’m going to write. I’m not your average girl, I have married parents both of whom love me unconditionally, I have never rebelled in any way, nor have I dealt with the death of someone I am extremely close with, I enjoy to public speaking and I am an extremely active member in my favorite clubs. Hearing outer personal stories opposite of mine touch your heart, while inter personal stories like mine seem minute, however my story is a constant burden to me.
Choices are made every day. Large or small, every choice we make has an effect on our life which is often followed by a challenge.
It seems like my whole life I have always run full speed with school, dance class, travel team and school dance practices, basketball, working sheep, FFA events and the Franklin County 4-H livestock club. My parents have always been asked, “How do you keep up with everything?” And their response is always a simple, “It’s just our life.” And yes, it is just the way we have always chosen to live our lives and I would not have it any other way.
Approaching this school year, I was aware that the amount of pressure on me was at a new high. It was the year where taking multiple AP classes would begin, as well as taking the ACT and looking at colleges, all while trying to manage being in many places at once with all of my extracurriculars. I made the choice to not tryout for the travel dance team I had danced on since the 7th grade, hoping that by cutting out two practices a week and monthly competitions my time would be a bit more open and I would be able to focus on the new challenges junior year was bringing me. At the time, I was not happy with my decision. I felt like I was letting down my team, as well as no longer being able to satisfy my lifelong passion.
We are now well into this school year, and I cannot imagine adding two practices and monthly competitions back into my schedule. The work load I have received this year as well as the demands from my coaches, teachers, and advisors have all been extremely challenging and overwhelming. Never have I been so ready to give up and quit everything at once. Never have I ever truly no longer cared. I have realized that all of this has diminished my normally positive mindset. It makes it hard for me to continue going forward with what is required for school, extracurricular activities and my future.
I often claim that next year I will “go out with a bang,” and try to be my absolute best in many extracurricular activities for the last time, rather than stressing on what I cannot change. I plan to make that claim become true… as soon as I figure out how.
Part One In band, we are always being pushed so we can be the best we can. Marching band starts us off easily so we get used to playing again after our summer break since we know that not all of us practice. Then as the year progresses, we begin getting audition music for various honor bands. Mrs. Wallace encourages us to audition because she knows that participating in more activities and playing more in general will make us better players. There are several honor bands that we are given the option to audition for. The first audition is for All-State Band. This music is challenging and forces you to practice hard if you actually want to make it past the first cut. Since the music is challenging, not many people look at it because they don't even want to try. They start off with the attitude that they won't make it. That is how I have looked at it my freshman and sophomore year. Freshman year I didn't even look at it. I just wanted to get used to playing harder music and get comfortable being in high school. Then sophomore year I wanted to at least look at it and be able to play it even if I decided to not try out. Since I wasn't going to try out, I ended up not even looking at it. I just gave up while others were putting in the time to practice and they went to audition. I knew that if I would have actually put the work into it, I could have auditioned and become a stronger player. That is why this year I decided to step it up and audition and it was a challenge for me.
We received the music and I went ahead and marked all the notes that were sharp or flat according to the key signature. I had the music for a few weeks and never took it out of my folder to play. Then the clarinet section began having lessons with a new instructor. He asked me if I have looked at the music and I said no. He was a very different teacher from our last one. He pushes you and actually helps you to play. So for my next lesson, he gave me a goal to have at least looked at it and have an idea of how it should sound and how the rhythms go. If we hadn't started lessons, I probably would have chickened out like last year.
So I began to work on it. For pretty much any audition that I have seen, there is normally a slow piece and a fast piece. For the slow piece you need to pay attention to details like dynamics (loud and soft) and pretty much just making sure it flows. For the faster piece, you should pay attention to details such as getting it up to the speed that is given for you and focus primarily on articulations. I worked really hard on the lyrical piece because the key signature was a bit harder than what I have played before, so I wanted to make sure that I had all the notes right. I spent less time on the faster one which was a huge mistake. When auditions came closer, I was rushing myself to be able to play it and for it to sound good. Unfortunately it wasn't coming together like I had hoped it would. It sounded decent but I know I could have played better. ~Ashleigh Johnson~
Part Two I do not audition well. Since middle school, I have always had a fear of playing in front of people. My breathing gets all ragged and I begin to shake uncontrollably. That trend continued into high school. I know that I can play the music well but when I start to play and people are actually listening, I freak myself out. I knew that if I did not play in front of people, my fear would not go away and I definitely would not make it past first cut. So I played my music for my clarinet instructor, some friends and my mom. When I played for them, I was completely fine and it was just like I was playing by myself. Then the auditions came and I was actually excited to play. I know that I have come a long way from the beginning of the year and just wanted to do what I could do. When it was my turn to play, I began with the slow piece. Everything was fine. My breathing was a little uneven but I wasn't shaking. Then the faster piece was next and that is when I started to freak out. I knew that it was not going to be good. So, I did what I could do and finished until the end. Once I was finished, I was satisfied with what I did. A huge weight was lifted off of my shoulders. Now all I had to do was wait for the results.
Once the results came, I was informed that I did not make the first cut. Of course I was upset but I understood. I didn't push myself and practice like I should have been. I was always making excuses as to why I couldn't practice. Even though I did not make it, I was proud of myself for at least trying and actually auditioning which is much more than I have done the past years. I still have one more year to try and I know now not to put it off. Trying out for All-State was a challenge for me and even though I did not succeed in making it, I have come a little closer and have certainly become a better player. ~Ashleigh Johnson~
Let me be honest with you. I can think of nothing of any real consequence to write about. I have never seriously played a sport, I have never really had a big defining moment of success or failure in my life. Nor have I encountered many of the hardships some of you have faced here. My life has been cushy and sheltered and safe. That in mind, please excuse any language that you may find condescending, unchallenged, boring or otherwise stupid.
In the fifth grade I was what most would call a huge nerd. I never fit in, never had a consistent group of friends, and was very awkward. Sometime in the course of the early months of 2008, some kids were selected (I'm not sure whether it was grades, teacher recommendation, recommendation from other students or whatever) to take a test to be on our school's academic team.
At the time I didn't think much of it. I took the test and went on about my life. A few days later, one of the coaches (another fifth grade teacher), passed around letters to the few who made it. I was ecstatic when I didn't get the letter because I thought I wasn't good enough and that it would be a waste of my time.
A few days after that I was pulled aside and told that I had made the team and that they for some reason they hadn't printed out a paper for me. I still thought it was a waste of my time, but I went to the practices anyway. As I went, I got better and better and eventually, I was the Social Studies District Champion. I was very proud of myself and was finally happy to be on the academic team.
As many know, I am still on the academic team today and we are league champions for the second time in three years and I'm still not having any second thoughts about the decision I made back in the fifth grade.
When I was deciding on a topic to write for this, the first thing that came to mind was “what it’s like living life one-handed” but then I thought, well this is just what everyone would expect me to write about, it’s going to be really boring and going to state things that they already know. Then Harper brought to my attention that you all might know most of what’s on the surface, but there’s a lot of things that you all may not know. I started thinking and she was completely correct. So here I am, going to try to give you some insight into what its like living without a limb.
When I was born, I picked up a lot of things simply by instinct. I learned to tie my shoes before Annie, I learned to button and zip my own clothes, I learned to put up my hair, all of these things I learned to do on my own. They may not seem like big things to any of you all, but to me these were really big accomplishments. Nowadays I seem to make a lot of things look easy even when they may not be. Some people tend to forget that I have one arm, because I can usually figure out a way to do anything, and it’s okay because on occasionally I do too. I really dislike it when people ask me, “Do you need help with that?” . It makes me feel as though I am helpless.I know, everyone needs help at some point in their lifetime, but when everyone else seems fully capable of something I want to say that I can do it on my own as well.
It’s not always been super easy. I’m the person that likes to prove people wrong. If they say that I can’t do something; I want to come back and do it ten times better than they expected me to do it. I have wanted to do many things but they are things that normally would require two hands, but when has that ever stopped me? I really wanted to learn to play guitar in the fifth grade; so I decided to give it a try. I went out a bought myself a shiny, red bass guitar ( Bass? Really?... I was obsessed with the Naked Brothers Band at the time and if you don’t get the reference look it up). Then I thought, “How am I supposed to play this?” . The guitar ended up sitting in my room for a good three weeks before I decided to venture up to Shriners to see if they could help me. Well they came up with a device that, in the end, didn’t even end up working correctly so the guitar sat in my room until the beginning of Sophomore year. For some reason I decided that I wanted to try the whole guitar thing out again. I went out and traded the bass for an acoustic guitar. I had been watching this girl on YouTube, April Lockhart (Look her up she is really awesome), she is an amputee as well; I had this idea that maybe if I could get a prosthetic that was similar to the one she used then I would be able to play as well as she can. I took another trip back to Shriners to see if I could get something similar. Well, they said that because her arm was a few inches longer then it wouldn’t work the same way, “A few inches really makes a difference”, they told me. So, we went an alternative route and found an attachment that we could put on a previously made prosthetic. I used it for a while, and where I wasn’t used to the weight of the prosthetic it just didn’t sound and work like it should have. So now I’m back at square one with nothing. I will, of course, keep trying, but it’s just frustrating when things don’t turn out like I think they will. There have been many other times that something hasn’t come quite as easily as I expected it to, the guitar story is just one of many examples.
Being born without an arm may seem like a challenge to me at times, but when I go to I-CAN (a summer convention for amputees, a.k.a. International Child Amputee Network) and I see people missing all four limbs I honestly feel slightly guilty for ever doubting that I can’t do anything. It’s so inspiring to see them live as though they don’t need help at all. For amputees in general I think we have to face the challenge of informing society that although some things may be inconvenient for us we are fully capable of doing anything we set our minds to. It’s hard for people to really understand, especially children, we get looks and stares every time we go out in public and I’m not gonna lie, it does hurt at times; I feel as though I’m like an alien or something, but It’s not something that I can change about myself so I just have to kind of look past it and know that their opinions shouldn’t matter to me. On occasion I will give these people “the evil eye”, but only if I believe it’s deserved; Like when they blatantly say “what’s wrong with her”... I’m not blind, nor deaf contrary to your belief and nothing is “wrong” with me.
I just hope that one day the world will be able to accept everyone for who they are, because a lot of us can’t change, and I hope that those who are different in any way know that they should not be ashamed of who they are.
I think your story is really something people should pay attention to. Not in a strange creepy way, just because it's special on its own compared to what someone's common idea of you would be. You haven't really "lost" anything, you've gained what im sure the majority of teenagers lack: The will to actually do something they want to do and not give up if it doesn't work at first. People should really learn from that, and your essay itself doesn't need a huge amount of work on the content. You have a point and you stick with it. just a bit of organization and it'll be spot on. Nice job.
My challenge may sound a little silly to say it's my biggest struggle in life.
You know when you get to that one point in the year, every year when that one teacher seems to be dying to know the answer to the ever so repeated question: "What do you want to be when you grow up?"
That's one thing I hate to answer, it used to be so simple; "An Astronaut" which when I was 7 years old sounded like a never ending trampoline in space and now sounds crazy to me. Or "The President of The United States of America" which then sounded like "I get to tell you what to do, and you, and everyone get's money, no war, just nice, happy people! It now looks like the express route to gray hair, chief of worries, and one of Americas most hated to some.
The question becomes more real and dreadful for me to answer each year. Another load of stress to pack around.
As a junior in high school this year, I know the time to play around with careers is close to an end; going into my senior year I want to have a roadmap with a checklist for everything I need to accomplish on it.
This is a big choice for me, I need to have a good career, one that I can always easily find a job in so that I can have a good income and a nice life!
But my decision that I will finally have to make will change me in various ways, how quickly I work, how serious I am, how my attitude will be, etc.
I can't remember the last time this question didn't pound in my head like a drum. All I know is I'll be glad when it's all over, when I'm older and everything is in place. I think I'll be a much happier person, not that I won't have things that need to be done or a freeway out but a better grasp on things and how they will be.
Going back through the time line of my life, my split family connects to so many dashes. Growing up, my father would threaten leaving again and again, fulfilling his words on multiple occasions. At age six, I remember that pattern of threatening, returning, and then threatening again ended with a divorce. From then on, my life changed even more. Joint custody where my two sisters and I had to switch back and forth every other day and weekend influenced everything I did and shaped my character. My step-mom and half-brother came along shortly after altering my life even more. These changes, like blocks, kept building off each other and resulted in a character that I am proud of.
This all started when my small first grade mind had to try and comprehend why my mommy and daddy wouldn't live with each other anymore and why I had to continuously switch from house to house. I was lucky to have my two sisters as a backbone to help me adjust, but it still seemed hectic and confusing. Being passed off between houses made it difficult to keep up with my things. If I left something at my dad’s house, like my glasses or some homework, I couldn't get it back until his next designated day. For any of you who wear glasses or contacts, you probably know the kind of headache you get for not wearing them for a day or two. I had to become organized and less forgetful. This was a lesson I learned fast. If I forgot to bring something from house to house, I would have to live without it until I got the opportunity to retrieve it.
The news of getting a new step-mom and little brother came around the same time. My dad and step-mom, Missy, got married a few years after my parents’ separation, followed by my little half-brother, Jacob, about half a year later. I don’t really remember my reaction to getting a new step-mom but I was ecstatic to be getting a little brother. I remember watching Jacob as a baby. I remember going to the hospital and getting to hold him for the first time. He was so small and cute. I tried to be careful not to break him. The memories of watching or helping your little brother or sister grow up are what makes having a younger sibling so great, even though there was a stinky diaper or two.
Having to switch back and forth made it difficult to do activities. I started participating in dance classes at a young age and continued on for many years until our schedules just got too hectic. My mom loved to watch our dance recitals and would always enroll me and my sisters in dance classes, but if I wanted to take a class that was on my dad’s night, I wouldn't get the chance to dance that year. With having to commute between Frankfort and Versailles and then later Frankfort and Lawrenceburg, neither of my parents wanted to give up their precious time with any of the three of us, but as time progressed we figured out a schedule that worked and made everything run smoother while also giving us the opportunity to do more activities.
Remembering whose holiday is whose and keeping schedules straight are difficult especially with my sisters and I being the messengers between my mom and dad, but divorce and joint custody has still taught me a lot of things. I have become more organized throughout my life. I have also had the joy of watching my now 7 year old brother grow up. On top of watching my brother grow, I learned what my priorities are, especially when I have to coordinate my schedule with both parts of my family. I may not get to do everything I want but I make time for the most important stuff, my family and my friends.
Through out my life have made many changes or set high goals for myself. Many people like to talk about all of there great accomplishments in their life. But I feel that my most important accomplishments are being set up right now. I began this challenge my freshmen year when I joined the baseball team. It was fair to say that I was a below average ball player. But if I learned anything from that year it was how to be great teammate and keep your team in the game. It didn't matter weather I was on the feild or in the dugout, I wanted to be the loudest on the diamond. Though no matter how much I want for my team I always strive to be the guy standing out as a role model. But I'm not. At least not yet. My freshman year was a great year as a feilder but it was safe to say I was a sub par hitter. I tried my hardest to learn to hit exactlly how the coaches taught me but it just never worked. The season ended for jv in the finals that year. I didnt play much that tournament but I just kept to what I knew as a good teammate. My sophomore year has probably been the most important year for me because I finally figuered out what kind of ball player I was. I figuered out how to use my speed to my advantage by singles and the thing I'm most popular for, the drag bunt. I dont think that many ball players are known for it. I began using in games and it turned into what was almost an automatic hit. It's no line drive, or a homerun its a ten foot dribbler right down the third base line but it was a base hit. When I batted in games it was what I did in all of my first at bats. I also found myself to be a more mature player as well. I began getting key plays and hits in the big jv wins and always try keeping my team in the game. The jv went on to win the district championship while our varsity falls short. Many people would say not my fault we lost I did'nt play. But I want to win so bad that I can't help feeling that it partially is my fault. I tell myself that I need to be doing more to help the team win by getting better and playing varsity. I need key catches and hits for them too. I'm no JT Riddle but I strive to be my own ball player and play the game the way I'm supposed to. I've played jv two years now but this year with some extra cuts and extra fly balls in the grass, I am determined to become the best ballplayer I can be and bring my team a title this year.
It is a truth universally known that a swimmer the age of sixteen must be in want of a job as a lifeguard. Obviously you don't have to be, but most are. I did it because I could, I swam for about 9 years, I would have time since it was the summer, I had already been certified, I got paid well for my first job, the only thing I was really concerned with was trying not to get sunburnt too bad, too many times. The job was simple, until it wasn't.
Most guards go their entire career without having to jump in to save someone. Some jumped in to help kids to the edge of the pool if they couldn't make it. It was never too extreme. They would fill out an incident report and the day would continue. It was my first year as a guard, what was the chance that I would have to jump in?
I remember the build up to seeing the girl all too clearly. I just finished telling some young boys not to flip into the pool from the three foot, I started to scan the pool just like we are trained to do. When I saw her my heart vaporized. She was floating on the surface of the pool, arms in front of her head. At first I panicked, then I told myself to calm down, I had seen kids do it at least fifty times before, they would put their face in the water to blow bubbles and look at the bottom of the pool. If I waited a few more seconds she would come up, but that icky feeling in my stomach didn’t leave. I waited for what felt like an eternity, but at that point adrenaline had replaced my blood. “Any second now...” I thought, “You’re gonna come up right?... right? ... no?... No.”
I knew what to do at that point. I stood and blew the whistle as loud as I could. I heard it echo around for just a moment. Everyone turned and looked at me and that was awful. The entire pool turn around and looked at me in horror. I would like to tell you I swooped down from the chair, seized the guard tube from the chair, and flew to her like the superhero I wish I was. But I didn’t. I stumbled from the chair, seemed to play tug o’ war with the chair over the guard tube, and jumped into the water. When I got to her I threw her over the tube and went back to find every single person standing near where I was bringing her. I turned the girl around and put her hands up for a fellow guard and her day care teacher to get her out of the pool. When we got her out of the pool everyone moved in towards her at once. Anger and fear flared up in me and erupted from me. These people were in the way and I couldn’t have that. I started yelling, “Everyone GET BACK!” And they parted like the red sea. I called Kirsten who yelling at someone to call 911 “I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU AREN’T RUNNING RIGHT NOW!” She then came over to me, took her pulse and check for breathing. I didn’t need to, she was already blue, most of the guards thought she was already dead. For some reason I didn’t, my mind was running fast but that thought didn’t turn up. Then the wailing started, tens of kids just started bawling, and in that moment I wanted to do the same. If she died it would all be on me. “No,” I thought, “I’m not living with that for the rest of my life. God, if you have taken her, you are going to give her back. She is young she has so much to live for, I can’t be the reason that she doesn’t.” Kirsten walked over to me, I didn’t even ask if she showed signs of life, I pointed to her, “Chest compressions.” I said. Then to myself, “Breathing.” She nodded her head and we went to work.
Someone brought me a breathing mask, and Kirsten began compressing her chest. After the appropriate number of chest compressions I attempted to do rescue breaths but she started vomiting into the mask. I couldn’t continue doing that otherwise I would force her to choke on her own vomit. So I took off the mask and started sweeping the vomit from her mouth. Kirsten continued doing chest compressions and I was wondering where on heaven and earth the ambulance was. Our manager, Mrs. Caldwell, came up and helped us revive her. I started yelling at her trying to call her back into the world. I heard the sirens and thanked God in heaven. Then she took a breath and everyone in the pool realized they could as well. A few seconds later, an EMT came running in, took her in his arms, and just as quickly was gone.
Me, Kirsten, and Mrs. Caldwell stood and just stood there for a while. The guards came up to us and consulted with us about the ordeal. We were swapping stories and saying what was going through our minds at the moment. People were hugging me thanking me and I was just thankful that we got a happy ending. I started to go into shock, I was shaking and got really cold. Me and Kirsten went to the bathroom to wash our hands and a woman came in telling us that the police were wanting to know what happened. We went out there and told the story, then the hospital called wanting to know how long she was unconscious, I told them as best as I could, they told me she was fine, that she was breathing before she got into the ambulance. Kirsten gave me a long sleeve shirt since I was freezing and when it all settled down, we went and filled out an incident report. When that was done, we sat at the guard table. Concession stand workers cam over with some cookies asking if anyone wanted some to brighten their day. My hand shot up and everyone concurrently said “Take them all.” The pool decided to close for the day, but there was a party that night so they were going to bring in some guards for that. I can’t count the number of hugs I got that day, or the ones I gave out. Fact is I just wanted to be held and told everything was alright.
People were shocked when they found out it was me. My blood family and church family were floored. People asked me if I was there when it happened when I told them what I did as a summer job and I would shyly say I was the one that got her out. If you don’t believe any of this, look it up on Google. This incident in my life was all three of these. It was a change, a turning point in my life. Kirsten and I got a lot of recognition for it. It is the most important thing that has ever happened to me. It was a challenge that got thrust upon me. I wasn’t sure if I deliver this young back to the land of the living when she was floating in between it and whatever you want to think you go to when you die, I like to think heaven but I also like to think that God had it all planned out, that she had unfinished business here that He wanted her to carry out. It was my choice to not give up when everyone thought she was gone.
When Mrs. Hill first presented this topic as our blog post I must admit I freaked out a little bit. I always considered myself a fairly “normal” teenager who hasn’t really faced many difficult challenges or choices in their life. Then I realized, I’ve dealt with a challenge nearly every day of my life since I was in 3rd grade. It has come so accustom to me that I hardly recognize it as challenge, it has become more of a lifestyle. When I was a child I began to notice abnormal stomach pains all throughout the day. The thought of it ever becoming anything more than a mere stomach ache never crossed my mind. Eventually, the pain became constant and unbearable. It hardly ever went away. My parents were concerned but not enough to take me to the doctor just yet. Of course if anyone knows my dad, he’ll tell you that “She’s fine, she’s just over reacting. It’s not anything serious.” I wanted to believe that but a part of me knew there was something seriously wrong with me. After months of continuous pain and no sign of it getting any better, a new symptom came into play. I began to notice blood in my stool (yes, I’m aware that is quite disgusting but it’s nothing I can control.) That very moment my mother picked up the phone and immediately called the hospital. Of course as a third grader I was pretty convinced I was dying. But I was quickly assured that was not the case.
Of all of the many different things that I could write about that has possibly changed my life (such as almost dying in an explosion), I'll choose the one that has had the largest effect on my life. I'm talking about starting high school. The transition for most people was very easy, but for me, it changed my self esteem dramatically. For all of you that knew me in middle school, they knew me as the soft-spoken, fat kid that only had 1 true friend to my name. I used to believe that the only true measure of someone's worth was by how many friends they have. I tried so hard every day just to make people happy and put a smile on their faces, just so that they may one day call me their friend. Whenever I made someone angry or upset, I'd think about it non-stop and try everything just to make them like me again. It got to the point to where I put more concern into other people's feelings before my own, I didn't care about myself, just everyone else. When I first started high school, I was doing the same thing I did in middle school. Needless to say, just about everyone noticed this "disability" of mine and started making fun of me. With me trying to make people possibly like me, I started making fun of myself only to lower my self-esteem. Then one day, I made fun of myself in my English class, and a person whom I am now very good friends with asked me "Why do you make fun of yourself? Don't you know that people only view you as you view yourself?" This question had me thinking for a while, a whole day in fact. Making people happy at my expense was the only thing that I knew to do in order to make people like me. How could I change this? The next day, I asked them "But what if people don't like me, how do I make them like me?" They answered back " You can't make anyone like you. People only like people who like themselves, and if they don't like you, then **** them." With these few simple sentences, I managed to change myself into this wonderful person that I am today! -Donovan Billings :3
PART TWO After months of blood tests, hospital visits, and meeting several different doctors they finally reached a diagnosis. By the beginning of my fourth grade year I was diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis. For many people who are unaware of what Ulcerative colitis is, it’s a serious chronic inflammatory disease of the large intestine. It is known for causing severe stomach pain, nausea, chills, and frequent trips to the restroom. Being diagnosed with this terrified me. I thought I would never be able to live a normal life anymore. I had to completely change my lifestyle in order to feel the least bit better. As I grew older my doctor decided to go in depth about what my future with Ulcerative Colitis could consist of. She told me that being a person with this disease gave me a higher chance of developing colon cancer. That may have been the most terrifying moment of my life. How is a person at my age, or any age really, supposed to deal with the news of developing cancer? Hearing those words roll off her tongue still haunt me every day. I did, however, found some good out of all of this. I have learned that I can get through every obstacle life throws at me as long as I keep a positive mindset and never give up. This disease has definitely changed me as a person and the way I live. As of now, my Ulcerative Colitis is under control and I’m as healthy as I can be.
I, myself, have taken many risks, steps, choices, and for sure learned many lessons that have helped me be who I am today. However, one of my biggest choices was made in the beginning of this past summer. I realized that this choice would either make or break my swimming career. It was so stressful to me that I almost wanted to quit swimming forever and never look back.
I started swimming when I was three years old and haven’t stopped since then. I would always hide underneath a little wooden bench that sat on the deep end of the pool so I could watch my brother do flip turns, streamlines, and dolphin kicks off the walls as he swam back and forth… and back and forth some more until eventually, the practice was over. I finally got enough courage one night and went up to the coach and said “watch this”. I got in and swam to the other end of the pool, did a flip turn, and streamlined with dolphin kicks to follow. The very next night, he put me on the team. I would practice a couple days a week for about an hour, then a couple days of the week for an hour and a half, then eventually five days a week. I realized that this team wasn’t what I needed, it helped me create a platform for swimming but it didn’t help me assure the chances of getting any better.
When I turned 11 I moved to another team in Shelbyville. My family had heard that the coach went to the Olympic Trials and was making his present swimmers drop time in everything they were swimming. So, my parents moved my brother first, and then me just to see if this “new guy” could really help me make it to the next level. After a couple of months to a year, I made my first sectional cut as a 12 year old. It was almost like a dream come true for me because at that time, I was the youngest swimmer at sectionals. It helped me realize that I loved the sport of swimming when I knew I could keep getting better and better and maybe actually have a successful future in my sport after all. As time flew by I noticed I had nine more sectional cuts and I began winning sectionals in my events in long course and short course. I didn’t think life could get any better honestly; I never thought of going to nationals, Worlds, the Olympic Trials, or even the Olympics until my coach told me that I could anything I set my mind to with my talent of swimming and perseverance of getting nothing but better, which was simply the only option for me.
The beginning of this summer I had to make the choice of wanting to get better; go further in swimming, or, stay the same and maybe drop a couple seconds in something here and there. I knew that if I said yes, then my life would consist of nothing but swimming, swimming, swimming, and more swimming… oh and yes, school falls between one of those somewhere. I knew that if I said yes, then it would be a lot of money and a lot of time that I would have to sacrifice to help me get one step closer to getting what I want out of this sport. Things have definitely changed for me that’s for sure. Instead of the everyday practices for just an hour and a half, I now swim 21 hours in a week. In the mornings before school and after school three days a week and after school every day of the week. I wake up at 4:25 a.m. to make my practices on time in Louisville and I have to leave school early to make the afternoons on time also. It has forced me to stay on top of school, keep my grades good, value my time wisely, take swimming more seriously, and become a stronger human being. I never would have imagined my life this way, or even being on the team that I’m on right now—but making this choice has taught me that success doesn’t come easy, it is not handed to you. "When you want to succeed as bad as you want to breathe, then you'll be successful". Hard work always pays off in the end. -Sydney Sell
Once upon a time, there was a little innocent girl, probably in the second grade, around 7 or 8 years old. She was a sweet, obedient, pleasant little child. In these ealy moments in her life, her and her sisters were staying with her dad and celebrating Christmas with him. Now, she absolutely loved Christmas. She loved the ideas of presents and families and sweets and snow. She still believed in Santa Claus, still adored Rudolph the Red nosed Reindeer and Frosty the Snowman.
On this happy and celebratory day, while her sisters were off playing or doing whatever little sisters do, she was left alone with her dad. Her dad just kind of flat out asked her “You know Santa Claus isn’t real, right?” She had heard the rumors about this tragic misunderstanding, but she never even considered believing in them. I mean, you have to believe in Santa in order for him to be real, right? But why would your dad tell you this, I mean if he does buy the presents and put them under the tree then wouldn’t he definitely know if this ‘Santa’ thing is real or not? She was shocked at the outrageousness of this question and, honestly, I don’t remember what my reply was. My dad continued to explain Santa’s lack of existence; and I will never really understand what brought him to tell me this, I mean I was a child. Still young, naïve, pure, there was no reason for such an early disappointment.
Later on, I thought about telling my mom about what my dad had told me, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. She thought that I still believed, and I really did want to believe, but I had too many doubts. I think that my mom, just this past year or two, finally realized that I knew Santa wasn’t real. Even now, I would still love for Santa Claus to be a real thing. He brings so much happiness, hope, and faith to everyone; I don’t even understand why someone would start this tradition just to get everyone’s hopes up.
To most high schoolers now, Santa Claus is nothing but a far off childhood story, stored and packaged away in the back of our brains. To me, the realization of Santa Claus’s non-existence was kind of my first reality check. I mean it is an overextended lie, but the concept has good intentions. I guess what I’m trying to say is that although this experience was unavoidable, I kind of wish that it had never happened. It’d be nice to still have those childish beliefs and that trouble-free lifestyle.
A change, challenge, and choice in my life that all came together was when I started playing piano 2 years ago. It started with just a simple melody (How to Save a Life by The Fray) that I wanted to learn to play and continued until I can't see myself without 81 keys at my fingers.
I feel it was a change because as I said I can't put it down. Even over the summer when I took a break for 2 months the fire came back stronger than before to relearn and improve.
It was a challenge because simply put, instruments aren't easy to learn. Having no musical background except chorus it was just self teaching until I showed that I actually cared enough to get help from others. With the challenge came smaller challenges as well. In our schools piano class we had several different people that had musical background some ranging from band instruments that they had played since middle school, others having taken piano lessons for 5 plus years. Honestly I had played for a few months prior and thought I was going to walk in and be the best in the class. Seeing the varying skill levels though caused a drive to appear and I worked harder than any others learning the most challenging pieces I could find just to show I was capable.
Finally, I had made the choice to play piano. But now it isn't a choice but a lifestyle. The challenge is what drives the change and hopefully more choices that end this way. So I urge that if anyone loses interest in music to go back and look at what caused you to pick your instrument up in the first place.
The hardest thing I think anyone could have to face is having to watch someone they love, get hurt. I'm pretty strong, I don't really get upset about much, and generally I'm able to hind my feelings and paint a smile on my face. But my challenge isn't even my challenge, my challenge is that I have to watch as my dad is separated from his family and as he misses out on his children growing up. My dad is currently stationed in Texas as a lieutenant colonial battalion commander for the Paducah military unit. He was sent there 2 months after being deployed to Afghanistan. Him not being home, I can only imagine how hard that must be for him. And being someone who loves him to the moon and back, that hurts. Emily Evans
Just hearing the tone in his voice when he calls reveals how sad he is and how badly he misses everyone, and I can do nothing to change that. The worst part of all is that the pain that I feel for him, probably doesn't even equal up to what he feels. He says that everything is okay and that he is kinda used to it by now, but could you honestly ever get used to not seeing your family? I know he just says that so that we won't worry about him. I just get to sit back day in and day out and watch him be sad.
I have a little brother named Mason and he will turn 3 in January. During these 3 years my dad has been sent to Afghanistan for a year and 2 months and to Texas for a year and 1 month. He has missed most of my little brothers life so far and it tears my dad up, which in return tears me up. It's not only my dad either, when my 2 year old brother wakes up and says "where's daddy?" I can't help but feel terrible. Or when he cries for dad and all there is to do is put him to sleep so that he hopefully will forget who he was crying for, isn't as easy as it sounds.
And how do you explain to a 2 year old that his daddy who supposedly loves him more than anything in the world didn't just leave him? You can't. All there is to do is hope for the best and pray that it doesn't effect Mason and my dad's relationship in the future.
I face a lot of other issues but this is definitely was hurts me the most. Because even though my dad may come home in May, the time he spent away is gone and he will never be able to get it back.
Being compared to your older siblings is a challenge for most of us, I'm sure. I'm the same way, except that it's the opposite of what people normally think when I say that "I don't want to be compared to my older brother."
My older brother barely graduated high school, passing in many classes with a D. He's smart, but due to multiple family issues that were happening a couple years ago, when he was in high school, he ended up not caring about his future. He even had a child, although he won't say that it's his because he's in denial. I'm not proud of that, but I do love my niece and am glad that he made those mistakes happen that got her here when he was younger. He then began living with my father, who stays at home to work and never had any reason to go outside unless it was to take the animals outside or buy food, and did nothing but sleep and play video games. He was slowly throwing his life away until recently, when he moved out and got his own apartment to live in.
Obviously I'm not proud of my male family members - I've probably been outside more this week than my father has, if you don't consider the animals in this equation, and most likely even my brother. My mother still favours him over me in all aspects, besides the fact that I am better to shop for, and barely has a moment where she's not talking about him. However, she does know when she's going too far, and chides on me to do something with my life. That's gotten me stressed out with all of the homework I have to do everyday because of it, but I'm good with handling stress - pushing it down and pretending it's not there is very helpful and definitely works.
She wants me to consider going to colleges around where she lives, not even considering the fact that she moves around so often. She wants me to do "what I want", as long as it pays well and secures my future. She wants me to have children that I accept, when I know that it will complicate with my dream job. She wants me to do so many things that I don't want to do, but I'm afraid of saying no and making her give me "that look" and making me feel guilty about doing something that she doesn't approve of.
As I finish writing this, I can now see I added two challenges that I face - being compared to my older brother, and facing my mother. I'm probably never going to tell my mother the truth of exactly what I want to do, and many little things about myself, but the problem will go away with time. Or at least until I graduate high school and start heading off to college. It would be too late to change my mind about a career path by then.
As high school began, so did the ridiculous amount of questions. We were asked questions about history and math and science and health and English and French and every other subject I failed to mention. Yet we could study for these, we could cram in the last bit of information, at 2:30 at night, to feel prepared for the questions we faced the next day. But there is always one question I am never prepared for. One of the hardest questions to answer. Yeah, I know the answer. It’s a simple yes or no. But how do I explain it? How do I say it without looking silly? How can I answer it, the way I want, without being judged? To me it’s one of the world’s toughest questions. “Wanna come drink at my house tonight?” They would say. “Come on Keenan, let’s go get wasted.” Person after person, “You going to that party tonight?” High school was an infantry of soldiers, all fighting for the wrong goal, and I felt like the target. Every question was a shot trying to get me to succumb. But I have to be relentless in my effort, I have to say no. It’s not a parental choice, even though they hounded me about it. It’s not a choice that my teachers or some of my peers urge me to do. It’s not even a choice that can easily change. I choose to not drink alcohol, because it’s the choice I want to make. No matter how many of my friends are doing it, I stay unyielding in my decision. It’s not worth the risk, time after time we hear of teens that have lost their lives in horrible ways under the influence of alcohol. We see athletes who lose the ability to play the game they love, due to accidents under the influence. We see super students who lose their scholarships to the best schools in the nations, due to incidences with alcohol. It’s not worth risking everything I have studied for, trained for, and aspired for my whole life just to have a “great” night with friends. It’s not worth the risk, especially at this age. So I choose to say no. This simple, yet toilsome to answer question, frightens me to this day. I never know when it will be asked, who will ask it, how they will ask it. A copious amount of x-factors, but only one answer for me. Some people may judge me for it, some may shame for it, some may even vote me off the island, but it won’t change my views; it hasn’t changed my views. I aim to stay strong, no matter how many bullets are being fired, because I know the dangers of it. I know what could happen in a brief moment, a single bad decision. The battle will never be over. The battle will never change. But neither will my answer. I can wait. I choose to wait.
I believe challenges are what make us, us. The challenges I have faced in my life are what have made me who I am today. A strong, independant, outgoing teenage girl. With common sense of course. If we don't face challenges as people we will never know our strengths or weaknesses. We all need to know what we're good at and what we need improvements on. The most challenging choice/ challenge I ever had to face was taking care of my Papaw on his death bed. At first I wasn't sure if it was a good idea because me and my Papaw were never really close, but I thought through it and decided I would. Now I spent countless hours with this man, day and night. I missed school to be there with him when no body else was. My grades dropped horrifically and I to this day am struggling to get them back up. But you know what? I would go back and do it all over again. Because not only did my Papaw and I start a bond between us, but I have some of the best memories with him and that's irreplaceable to me. I was with him when he took his last breath and that right there was the biggest challenge of all. I have never lost anyone before him really. But watching someome take their last breath is something you'll never forget. That whole experience has made me the stronger, more independant woman I am today.
Lyndsey I have known you for about 6 years now, we aren't as close as we used to be but i know you pretty darn well. So when I correct you its out of love. :) First off I would like to say im proud you were able to do something as wonderful as taking care of your papaw, and im sorry you had to go through this. Losing someone can really hurt, and if you ever need to talk you know im always here for you... Now for the secound half... girl add some detail!!! You can write some pretty amazing things, and something as close to your heart as this is, I know you can do better. Give us a memory, or a moment you remember the most. Also transition. You go from talking about how we all face challenges, to your papaw... make that two diffrent paragraphs.(but be sure to add more!) something about the way you said "The most challenging choice/ challenge" sounds strange to me. Other than that I loved it, I liked the fact that you stepped out of your comfort zone and sharred this! Again i only corrected you out of love, not hate. -JENNY White
Have you ever wished you were out of your parents' house? That they would just leave you be sometimes? Yeah, me too until I realize i really don't have both of my parents. My mom works 10 hours a day then comes home and slaves over the stove for hours to make us happy, while my dad is living with his mother, acting as if he is a sponge sucking all her money from her, selling all of her antiques and all of his kids stuff so he can make a quick buck.
My dad is a chronic crack-cocain and heroin user, and he never wants anything to do with me. I see my father maybe once a week, even when I'm at his house all weekend. He never calls me to tell me he loves me, ask how I'm doing, or even come to a single one of my tennis matches. The only interaction I have with my father is when he's asking me for something or barking orders, and when he doesn't get what he wants, he goes off and saparates himself from everyone, making it hard to get through to him. Whenever he gets off of his high, he always takes it out on others, usually me, to take their stuff away, probably to sell it for drug money, or to kick them out of the house he doesn't own no have any jurisdiction over. He always claims he "never feels good" when I ask him to do stuff with me, not realizing that I know the real truth to why he won't. From the time I walk in the doors over there at 4:15 pm on friday after school to when I have to leave Sunday night at 7, I probably have spoken to him once.
So here is my challenge: to help my father better himself so that we don't have to worry about his future. My older sister and two of my aunts have been discussing it lately and we feel that an intervention is what's going to have to happen. In my opinion, though, it's much deeper than what we think. I know my father and I know he won't like being confronted by a big group of people, especially when he's getting called out. He'll say that there's "nothing wrong" with him, that he's "clean".
Honestly, I'm just scared for his future. If he continues on the road he's traveling now, I'm worried he'll end up in a halfway house, over dosing on pills and even worse.
Part 1 I’m sure almost everyone can say that they’ve been through a challenge of some sort, had a type of change in their life, or had to sit down and take the time to make a choice. These three things are constantly happening within our lives. I would like to share a something personal that has happened in my life where all three of the “C’s” came into play. Not a lot of people know what I am about to write and I’m sure of you all will be shocked by it too. Here it goes…
First, let me explain how people see me. The girl who is very talkative. The girl who doesn’t have any problems. The girl who has it pretty good. The girl who can take people’s jokes but it really does hurt her deep down. The girl who will straight up how it is regardless. Some of those assumptions are right and some are mistaken by many. There has been one constant struggle that I’ve hidden pretty much my entire life.
My dad and I haven’t had much of a relationship pretty much my entire life. Yes, my parents are still married and we all live together, but my dad and I never really talk. As a child, all of my good and fun memories are with my mom. As I began to grow up I finally started to understand why my dad and I didn’t have a good relationship, why he was hardly ever there for me. My dad is an alcoholic. He is not physically abusive but more emotionally. Just imagine, someone who is supposed to love you and protect you and raise you into the adult you will be one day calling you worthless, saying they wished they never had you as a daughter. Telling you that you were a mistake. Yes, it hurts more than anyone can ever imagine. That little saying, “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me” is total bullshit. Words hurt. I’m pretty sure everyone can agree to that. There have been countless of times where I would believe the things that he has said. I would question things like “Why am I here if he hates me so much? How could my mom let him do this to me? If I am so worthless why am I even alive?” Needless to say I have overcome the struggle of asking myself those questions. Yes, it has affected who I am as a person but it does not define me. It is the reason why I usually keep things all bottled up inside. The reason why it’s hard for me to trust people. The reason I am so hesitant to let people into my life because I’m scared they’re going to just walk out on me whenever it is convenient for them. Most people couldn’t even imagine that this would be going on in my life. I try to be a happy, positive person who always has a smile upon her face. I tend to not share personal things with people because I feel as though I will look weak or be judged. This would be considered the challenge/change I have faced my entire life and I am still facing it to this day.
My dad’s problem has obviously made me make various choices. As a teenager I have learned that I cannot let my dad’s problem stop me from being Hannah. I can’t let it stop me from achieving my future goals in my life. I can’t let it determine my future and my life. Statistics do show that alcoholism does indeed run in families. I am not going to let some silly statistic tell me that I am going to one day end up like my father. The biggest and most important choice I have made with this situation is coming to terms with my dad’s problem and accepting it. Very few people know this but I have actually been attending therapy to just have someone different to talk to. No, just because I go and see a therapist doesn’t mean I’m psychotic or anything like that. I just simply have someone else to talk to about my situation other than my mom and various friends who I chose to share with. Learning to accept my dad’s problem and knowing that I can’t stop it no matter how hard I try. -Hannah Tice
Part 2 Basically to sum it all up, I have been through hell and back in my sixteen years of living. Not going to lie about that. I have finally accepted the fact that you cannot help someone who wants to be helped or change someone who doesn’t want to change. I have realized that his problem is not because of me. Many of times I have questioned if it was. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love my dad more than anything. I have begged him countless of times to stop or to try and get help. He says he will but let me tell you, actions DO speak louder than words. He will always be my dad and I cannot change that. Now that I have accepted my dad’s problem, it has lifted a million pound weight off my shoulders. Now I worry about Hannah and Hannah only. I am now focused on only my problems and only my future. -Hannah Tice
I've been thinking about this and whenever I think of a problem or challenge I think of trust. When I was little I had no problem with it but that opened me up to so May issues with the world that I shouldn't know at such a young age. So since I was 9 I haven't trusted many people. I've never wanted to get hurt so I would build what seemed like a 10 inch thick wall of ice that's a million feet tall and wrapped all around me. This was some what ironic when my best friend started calling me ice pack because I was cold at a football game. The point is I have always protected myself from the world that I never really saw it. When I was 6 years old my mom married a guy she loved and knew for a long time and we all liked him. I can't remember what he did but when I was 8 he was arrested and his case found that he would spend 18 years in prison so his daughter that had just been born could grow up. After this my little sister would always say she hated me and that him bring arrested was my fault. I remember crying and telling my mom and she would say it was just a faze and she would hold and rock me until I cried myself to sleep. After this I could trust anybody accept my mom and my aunt Pam for a very long time. Then the beginning of junior year I decided to start trusting. We had the philosophy unit in English and with the help of a friend I learned how to get past this wall and to let myself be free to trust others. I have had so much help getting to this point that while I'm typing I've realized that I have created a new foundation of people I trust. You can get past anything if you really want to. Even an impossible wall of ice. -Madison-ice pack-Whitman-
The only suggestion I can make is elaborate more about how it affected you and how you have grown away and possibly things you have been able to accomplish because you got over the hump.
thanks for posting and you might want to sharpen the ice pick after you got through the ice never know when you might need it
The first day of school is always the best when you're in elementary school. You've just spent two full months away from your best friends. You can't wait to hear all about their summers and tell all about yours. To put the icing on the cake, it was fifth grade year. THIS is the year you are on top of the school, nothing could hold you back. Okay, maybe one thing. Frankfort is a small town. It seems like everybody knows everybody. When your new, you tend to stick out like a sore thumb.
I am shy and don't tend to make friends easily. I will talk to anyone who is willing to talk to me first. I will never forget running in Mr. Blevins gym class alone on that first day and getting my first "hi" or the famous words of Mr. Lovell when we were doing ice breakers "pick someone you don't know very well" and of course every rushed over to me. Don't get me wrong, nevertheless, I made some of my best friends from that day on.
Despite making new friends, I still felt lost and unconnected to my friends that I left in Florida. The last day of fourth grade I made sure to have everyone sign my yearbook and give me numbers and addresses, you know, because writing to your friend via snail mail was cool in 2006/2007. Anyway there were very few instances where, still to this day, that I have communicated with anyone that I went to elementary school with. When we walk across that stage next year to graduate, many of you have spent all grades of school together. Sometimes I struggle with the idea that I on the other hand, will never get to walk across the stage with anyone I started school with.
Moving wasn't all bad. With social media nowadays, I am able to see what my old "friends" are up to. Often I remind myself that I am much better here. The "good" children I hung out with, grew up. I have no idea who those people are. I'm not calling them sluts but their clothes sure don't cover a whole lot. I could never see myself where they are now. Lifestyle and values are higher in Kentucky too. Education wise, I'd say Western Hills is about 1/5 the size of a normal or typical high school, no exaggeration. That means much smaller classes and a better learning base. I'm not dissing Florida's education system, I just think there is better life opportunity in Kentucky.
Overall, I realized that although change is hard in the beginning, it's generally for the better in the long run. I held a lot of anger, for lack of a better word, inside because I didn't know anything other than Florida. As I've grown, I've become grateful for the opportunities and the changes that have occurred around me and for me.
Shannon McCutcheon "Florida" "New chick in the red sweater" "Jackie"
Shannon, I personally love your post because it’s something I can relate to in a way because I can remember sitting by you in Mr. Lovells class on your first day at Westridge. I really love how you described your first day at a new school and what it felt like. I can’t image moving at that age and having to adjust to all the things. One suggestion about your post is maybe use some metaphors or similes to compare how your first day and move here was. I really like your topic choice, it gives us all a sense of what it would be like to move to an unknown place and have to adjust pretty much your whole life. Lexie Richardson
We didn’t know it until It was about midnight on a weekend night and my grandmother and I were watching a movie and the house phone rings and I answer it, it was my dad and he said "Is nana around" he was crying and breathing really heavily, I simply said "yes but what’s wrong and he said "I’m about to shoot myself" so I give the phone to my grandmother and he tells her he needs her to stop him and tells her where he was. Well, she wouldn’t leave me alone so we get in the car immediately and we go to 127, and there he is standing on the side of the road with a gun to his head. This is when I realized that my father was going crazy. My grandmother jumped out and attacked him and said "You're oldest daughter is watching you, and you’re going crazy. Don’t do this" This is when everything changed. My life changed, I knew I didn’t need my dad in my life until he got his act together. I was terrified, in shock and I remained that way until I started going crazy that I had to go to counseling. This has changed me to who I am today. I see the pain that teens go through without a father, or having a drug addict as a biological parent. It's hard, but it’s made me to stay strong through the smallest obstacles of life. Life throws me curve balls but then I look at myself and say "No, I am strong. I can do this". My father is now 47,000 $ behind on child support, he has never been to a ball game that I’ve cheered at in my life, he rarely calls me to ask if im’ okay, or how school is going. But when he does I simply tell him that I am succeeding and that you don’t need anyone who doesn’t need you. -Sierra Smith Part 2
Sitting here thinking about if I should post on this on here or not because in middle school two girls parents told them about my obstacle and they texted me and made fun of me, but who cares it has really made me realize my change in my life has made me to who I am today. My life was changed drastically when I was 6 years old, and the problem, I have been facing it since then. My biological father left my mom, my sister and I in 2003 and there was no reason for it at all, we had no clue what was going on or why he just left our lives. Then, when I turned 10 my mother sat down with me and had a talk, which my sister was 7 so she really didn’t understand what was going on at all. We sit down and I had no clue what was happening, she was balling and my father had been out of my life for a good 4 years. I remember her saying “Your father will not be a part of your life anymore" I was confused beyond words, but I didn’t let it show I simply said okay, I’ve done it for 4 years now, what’s the difference? I then for a couple of days started to get curious, so I had my mom tell me why he was gone for so long, and why I couldn’t see him anymore. Then she came out and told me, and she said he has been addicted to drugs, now. At that time, I didn’t really know what they could do to you, I know that the school talked to my class about it and what not but I didn’t know how much of a change it can do with someone. A year later, or maybe longer, he came to my school and decided to have lunch with me, he had known my mom told me about his addiction and he explained it to me well. He said that he didn’t know what he was doing, and then he agreed to not do them when I was around. The court agreed and decided to let my sister, Emily and I see him every Tuesday and Thursday. I was young and so was my sister, so we didn’t know what he was doing. We would stay with him and he would take us places that I knew that we weren’t supposed to be at. He would fall asleep driving, he would scream at my sister and I for no reason, I would watch him steal from my grandparents. And I never said anything to my mom or my step dad about it, because I wanted to be in my father’s life. Eventually, I told my mom because he got really aggressive; to the point where I was in danger, and I wasn’t only scared for myself but I was scared for my sister, as well. My father had unconditional love for us but never showed it. My mom, then, got full custody of my sister and I. And I lived with my mom and my step dad for several years. My grandparents put my dad in rehab and he got out and was clean. He was clean for about 2 months, we got to see him again and let me tell you all, he was a completely different person but then he got with the wrong people again and got hooked... again... -Sierra Smith Part 1
Self-Doubt, what is it? It is a deceptively simple term. Its meaning may change from person to person and its significance just the same. When I chose to write my essay about self-doubt a couple months ago, its significance changed for me.
I have taken up the daunting task of determining its importance in society today. What it does to people, how people think about it? I have settled upon the belief that it is an important thing all humans to have, yet not in the form we are born with. One thing that is evident throughout history is that humans are manipulable, from criticism, persuasion, and self-doubt
Up until freshman year, I didn’t have a care in the world for my grades, It was easy to get by with all A’s and B’s in middle school and goof off with your friends all day. Was I going to actually work in high school? Yes. At the time it didn’t seem like much to me, but now I realize and thank myself for making this decision more and more everyday.
I’m not writing this essay to explain to you all how I have turned my life around and become successful in school, but to show how my decision then and there, changed how I would make all of the decisions in my future. That decision meant giving up “friends” that wouldn’t hang out with someone that got all A’s, and having to work for a good GPA. But that work ethic, the confidence and self reliance that one decision gave me was phenomenal. It stands out to me.
I guess you could say I am sharing my personal advice, wanting you all to take some decisions heavily, and to make the right choice for yourself. To not be manipulated by others beliefs and to do whatever is good for you and your goals. Do not be swayed by the negative criticism that comes your way, for it is only temporary. The decisions that you make, big and small, will change your life no matter what.
As I'm beginning to write this, I keep thinking to myself "oh my goodness, am I really about to open up to a bunch of acquaintances, my English teacher, and whoever has the time on their hands to check out Mrs. Hill's class blog...?" Here goes nothing.
Before I'm about to perform, I look at the crowd in front of me. I see the parents that come out for the night to watch their child play, dance or cheer. I notice the parents come to every single little game, it seems like they have their own seat that is reserved for them. Guys— I envy you all.
In my six years of dancing, my parents have never seen me dance before— not at the 50+ basketball games and football games, not at the competitions. My parents own their own nail salon, they work 10 hours on the weekdays and 9 hours on the weekends. Those family days most of you all have with your family— if it was planning a weekend to go out of town, going to pick out a Christmas tree to cut down and put up to decorate that night, I've never had. If my mom goes with me somewhere, my dad has to stay back and manage the salon, vice versa. Yeah, they provide me money but most things I do for my benefit, I have do myself. I scheduled my ACT test dates, my own college visits, I check up on my own grades to keep myself on track, and I find my own rides to games, community service for dance, etc. because if it's busy at work, my parents can't leave and take me.
I never let it affect my dancing and my smile while I'm in front of the crowd but it hurts. It hurts looking out seeing the other dancers have parents that are willing to travel to competitions with us knowing they'll be sitting on the bleachers the whole day.
They're not bad parents by many means, I'm more than blessed. I guess a lot of things comes from where we're from, Cambodia. After the Khmer Rouge, my parents were raised to work hard and make sure me and my brothers work have a better life than they had. Sometimes I don't realize how lucky I am and don't look at the bigger picture. They came to America with nothing and worked for everything we have now— a beautiful home, cars to drive in, and being able to provide my two brothers an education at the University of Kentucky. They didn't understand one word in English opening up their own business. It's been about four years that my dad found an amazing costumer who comes in every Wednesday and Thursday before work hours to teach him now to write and read in English.
The past two months, my mom has been in Cambodia building a house so after work, my dad has made the effort to come watch me dance at basketball games. It's made me dance harder and smile bigger. Better late than never, right?
As I'm beginning to write this, I keep thinking to myself "oh my goodness, am I really about to open up to a bunch of acquaintances, my English teacher, and whoever has the time on their hands to check out Mrs. Hill's class blog...?" Here goes nothing.
Attachment: being attached to another individual: I believe at some point in a person's life time, they meet someone who turns their world upside down. Someone who makes you cry a little less, laugh a little harder and smile just a wee bit bigger. Someone who knows you on the back on their hand— ha, probably better than you know yourself. Regardless if your life would continue with or without them, how many more people you meet as you're growing up, you'll always remember them and the memories that you all had. Whether when it was in your teenage years or you'll have one when you hit your fifties.
It was a choice to get involved. In eighth grade, I can stumbled across a fella that had this affect on me— (I know you're probably like oh my god, you were a eighth grader. Don't tell me some sappy love story you went through because you were naive) I never thought at such a young age I could meet someone that had much a big impact on my life. I mean at least not while I was in eighth grade— hell I was only, what, 14? I didn't know what I was getting myself into. Summing things up— I was the happiest girl in the world.
After a long, four years later, this relationship came to an end. I'm sure all my close friends could tell you (god this is so embarrassing to talk about and look back at it now) that I lost myself for the longest time, coming to school every morning with baggy eyes from the night before with sweatpants, sweatshirt, hair up. Last thing I was worried about was trying to impress anyone else. School work was the last thing I was worried about, instead I was thinking about all the things I could do to fix the broken. (my freshman GPA still haunts me to this day, it sucks) I lost my best friend who listened to nothing but me cry until 4 AM on school nights for months. I lost her because I didn't want to believe she was right, that I've changed completely. I blocked my family out, staying in my room refusing to even come down for dinner. Western Hills Dance is my life— those girls are my sisters and I dreaded dancing at games; all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball in my bed and bawl. I loved the person who hurt me, and ended up hurting the people who loved me.
It was a challenge to for me to convince myself to let go and move on. It was a challenge to rebuild my friendships and relationships I let fall apart, make up for loss time and convince my best friend I'm getting back to the old Ling. It was a challenge to pick myself back up, and get my happiness back. To come to a realization that this wasn't how I wanted to look back at my teenage years.
As much as I want to hate him, I can't. Two years later, my feelings haven't gone away completely. I question myself all the time— to this day, if I could take back those four years, would I? Truth be told, I wouldn't trade it for the world. I'm the kind person who lives with no regrets and believes that everything happens for a reason. This relationship developed me into the young lady I am today, if anything, I've learned so much about myself. The way I look at certain things now; without it I don't think I'd be as wise and as caution to never lose myself and to make the mistake to depend my happiness on someone else again. I want to thank him for making me twenty times stronger than I was before all this, being able to stand back up on my own, and helping me find my independence.
Attachment: being attached to another individual: I believe at some point in a person's life time, they meet someone who turns their world upside down. Someone who makes you cry a little less, laugh a little harder and smile just a wee bit bigger. Someone who knows you on the back on their hand— ha, probably better than you know yourself. Regardless if your life would continue with or without them, how many more people you meet as you're growing up, you'll always remember them and the memories that you all had. Whether when it was in your teenage years or you'll have one when you hit your fifties.
It was a choice to get involved. In eighth grade, I can stumbled across a fella that had this affect on me— (I know you're probably like oh my god, you were a eighth grader. Don't tell me some sappy love story you went through because you were naive) I never thought at such a young age I could meet someone that had much a big impact on my life. I mean at least not while I was in eighth grade— hell I was only, what, 14? I didn't know what I was getting myself into. Summing things up— I was the happiest girl in the world.
After a long, four years later, this relationship came to an end. I'm sure all my close friends could tell you (god this is so embarrassing to talk about and look back at it now) that I lost myself for the longest time, coming to school every morning with baggy eyes from the night before with sweatpants, sweatshirt, hair up. Last thing I was worried about was trying to impress anyone else. School work was the last thing I was worried about, instead I was thinking about all the things I could do to fix the broken. (my freshman GPA still haunts me to this day, it sucks) I lost my best friend who listened to nothing but me cry until 4 AM on school nights for months. I lost her because I didn't want to believe she was right, that I've changed completely. I blocked my family out, staying in my room refusing to even come down for dinner. Western Hills Dance is my life— those girls are my sisters and I dreaded dancing at games; all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball in my bed and bawl. I loved the person who hurt me, and ended up hurting the people who loved me.
It was a challenge to for me to convince myself to let go and move on. It was a challenge to rebuild my friendships and relationships I let fall apart, make up for loss time and convince my best friend I'm getting back to the old Ling. It was a challenge to pick myself back up, and get my happiness back. To come to a realization that this wasn't how I wanted to look back at my teenage years.
As much as I want to hate him, I can't. Two years later, my feelings haven't gone away completely. I question myself all the time— to this day, if I could take back those four years, would I? Truth be told, I wouldn't trade it for the world. I'm the kind person who lives with no regrets and believes that everything happens for a reason. This relationship developed me into the young lady I am today, if anything, I've learned so much about myself. The way I look at certain things now; without it I don't think I'd be as wise and as caution to never lose myself and to make the mistake to depend my happiness on someone else again. I want to thank him for making me twenty times stronger than I was before all this, being able to stand back up on my own, and helping me find my independence.
As I’m reading through these blog posts, yours really stands out to me. I think you honestly had the best topic because loosing someone you care about, whether it’s a family member, best friend or boyfriend/girlfriend, I guarantee, is something that everyone can relate to and make a connection with. I know I most certainly can. I find it extremely brave of you to post something so honest, personal and you said it yourself, embarrassing, I don’t think I could ever do that. Great job, I really loved reading your story. Also, something my mom always tells me is that friends and boyfriends come and go but your family members are the ones that truly love you, care about you and are going to be there for you through every obstacle you go through in life, no matter how much you want to, don’t shut them out. (:
While reading through countless blog posts both of yours are two of my favorites. For one, I love how personal they are. I know it must not of been easy to really open up to so many people but the best posts are the ones that people gave it their all.
Loosing a boyfriend/girlfriend is something that practically every high school student can relate to and reading someone else's experiences on the subject can make it easier to cope. Something I would like to know more about is how you could prevent going through that difficult situation again if and when you do fall head over heels a boy again.
Once again, thanks for opening up to everyone and having the courage to put your story out there! Good job Chloe. :)
“If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever.” –Winnie the Pooh I tend to think of myself as a person who always wants a routine, but on the night of March 9, 2013, that idea came to a tragic stop. March 9th started as any other day it was a Friday and I went to school, after school my mom picked me up to go to her work as usual, but when I arrived my Aunt Chrystal who worked with my mom was gone. I asked my mom where she was because my usual routine was to come in and go talk to her. My mom told me she wasn’t feeling well and had stayed home to rest. My “talks” with Aunt Chrystal everyday were a highlight of my day she helped me with anything I needed and was a strong Christian woman I knew I could get good, meaningful advice from, she wasn’t only my Aunt she was a best friend and it had always been that way. I grew up with Aunt Chrystal being my favorite aunt on my dad’s side she was the one who cared most about me and I cared most about. She was a funny, easy going an all-around a wonderful women. My most favorite memories of Aunt Chrystal were the years she worked at my grandparents flower shop, she taught me how to design flowers and how to make my first arrangement, she became a role model to me and I always looked forward to seeing her. My favorite of all was Valentine’s Day, which is the busiest holiday at the flower shop we would stay so late preparing, most the time it was midnight before we all would leave, everyone would always crack jokes to lighten the stress, but Aunt Chrystal and Uncle Ronnie’s bickering jokes were the best, she could really get a crowd laughing. She could change everyone’s life by just being around to brighten there day. The memories and talks I shared with Aunt Chrystal were a life changing event she helped me become a better person. What I wish I would have known was on March 8th 2013 that would be the last talk I ever had with Aunt Chrystal. At 8:00 o’clock at night on Friday, March 9th 2013, my mom got a call as we were walking out of a restaurant it was my cousin Megan, Aunt Chrystal’s daughter. As my mom stood pale and motionless her eyes started to water I had no idea what was going on and it was rare to ever she my mom cry. As I stood there next to her she screamed “Megan, Megan! What’s going on?!” I stood in terror I knew it was Aunt Chrystal something had happened. What I didn’t know was at that moment she had stopped breathing and her organs were shutting down. At that moment in the parking I wanted to fall to my knees in tears as my mom told me. At that moment time stood still and nothing seemed real. Ashton Chaney Part 1
After March 9th 2013, my life changed, for the next week I cried for hours straight I even broke down at school I couldn’t handle the idea of her being gone but the worst of all was we didn’t know why she had stopped breathing or why her organs had failed. Because of that I felt as if I could get no closure at all. After the doctors had examined her and studied to figure out what had happened, we had her funeral. Never in my life did I think that I would lose something this close to me and so suddenly, Aunt Chrystal was the first person I had ever lost that was this close to me. Finally after a couple of days we learned what had happened to her, her pancreas had failed, the pancreas the only organ that cannot be replace and the organ that supported the insulin in your blood stream and keeps you alive. After finding out why it just made me more and more angry I couldn’t understand why such as good women like her could die of something like that, she was healthy why her why so suddenly. Those questions were never answered. All I know is that God must have really needed another angel. Aunt Chrystal created memories that I will never forget and that have changed my life in the best possible way. Not only did her memories change my life so did her passing, it was the most tragic thing that has happened, suddenly in my life. She was their one day and gone the next. It felt unreal because I had just been with her the Wednesday before she passed away, we had a snow day so I went and hung out with my mom and her at their work, me and Aunt Chrystal ran errands for the office and she took me to get something to eat, that was a memory that I will never forget with her. That is the last memory and the last time I ever talked to my Aunt, she was my role model and a woman that changed my life I will forever miss her until we meet again. “ Yeah, when I get where I’m going, There’ll be only happy tears , I’ll shed the sins and struggles , I have carried all these years, And I’ll leave my heart wide open , I will love and have no fear, Yeah when I get where I’m going , Don’t cry for me down here.” (Brad Paisley & Dolly Parton) Ashton Chaney Part 2
: So one of the biggest challenges of my life was not necessarily an event, or a particular... thing. It was more so a period of time in my life where everything seemed like one big challenge. This period of time started around the beginning of summer break, preceding my freshman year of high school, all the way to the end of Christmas break that same year. If the assignment were to describe one of the most awful times of our lives, this post would be exactly the same.
To start off with the least of my problems, it was summer. I know summer is typically viewed as the one time of year in a students life where we get off school for an extended time period, time to lounge and relax, but I can't stand it. It's too long, it's too humid, and I tend to run out of things to do way too fast for my taste. So you can see why this doesn't make the most fitting scenery to have to deal with the loads of.... discarded protein...that I had to deal with. This just so happened to be the summer that I was practically forced by situation to tell my parents that I was, in fact, a homosexual. Almost no one who hasn't been through this can understand the soul crushing look that your parents give you when you dump such news on them. The horrible anxiety and paranoia that you go through just contemplating this act. In fact, telling my parents I was gay was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. Of course it was really hard on me as well as them. My dad freaked out terribly, smacking lamps off tables, he even hit me a couple of times :o(.
Living in a house with parents who are now both prejudice of you, as well as heartbroken, is not an easy thing to do. The tension within my household was so thick you could cut it with a spoon, it was almost maddening. I started smoking cigarettes by the pack in my own weak attempts to ease my stress, which helped, if not for frequently making myself sick from chain smoking. I couldn't sleep, eating was tough, and I stopped talking to almost everyone. I'd stay up late into the night and clutch on to remnants of my grandfather. drowning out my sorrows in loud music and cigarette smoke.
After many episodes of emotional distress, and family tension, school started. As if it could have come at any better time. Ha Ha. Though when push comes to shove, it wasn't as bad as I thought. All my school work gave me something more to focus on, and the school hours prevented me from spending all my time walking to god knows where with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. And it definitely got better when I met a guy that I liked. We started dating not too long after, and things looked as if they were finally starting to lighten up. His moms cooking was lovely, which made it easier to eat. My parents lightened up on me a little after they'd let it sink in, and when i was really stressed I could just go to my boyfriends house to escape for a while. But my episodes didn't stop, tension was still resent, and my pain still raw. The veil of excitement that came from just entering high school faded....quickly. I would sneak out of my house late in the night and just run, and run, and run. I'd find a lace to sit, and smoke for a while, before going back home at a much slower pace than I'd left from.
As school sauntered on, I met some new friends both in school and out. I pretty much hung out with all new friends, some not the best influence on me, and others not even at my school. One in articular happened to be a homophobic, sociopathic dick. He became my best friend. I hung out with bad people, did some bad things, and practically fell apart. I was a broken person, in a broken world. I eventually broke with my boyfriend, really just unable to carry on a relationship.
Eventually it was as if everything had just kind of died out. I still have some episodes every once in a while, I don't talk to that ex anymore, that one friend moved away, and that whole period seems like one painful blur. I guess I should say how I overcame all of these challenges, but I didn't really. I wasn't strong enough to stop any of it, so I just waited, and waited. Hoping my problems would just go away. Now a days I wish I had stopped it all when it happened, maybe I wouldn't still suffer from it every now and then. Maybe I wouldn't have those awful memories lingering in the shadows of my mind. Maybe I wouldn't still take long, lonely walks in the winter. However, maybe I wouldn't be the person I am today.
This post hit me really hard. I can't imagine how my parents would react if I told them I was pansexual. Probably the same way yours did. Maybe not quite as bad; I don't think either of them would get physically violent. But a lot of words would be said. My dad disowned an uncle for being gay, so I have a feeling he would do the same to me. I was in class when I read this, and I have to say, it was very hard for me to keep from reacting in a way that would attract attention. I actually got a little breathless at one point. Even teared up a little. I'm sorry that it was such a bad experience for you. I wish we could all come out to our parents, knowing that they wouldn't think differently of us for it. Unfortunately, society isn't quite there yet. Y'know I'm here for you, and you've got Jenny as well! ~Shelby (Or as you call me, Smellby) McKinney
Dear me, If you’re reading this, it means that somehow you survived eighth grade year despite the bombshell that was dropped on you. Despite how hellish this year has been, never try to forget it. If you do you’ll lose the part of you that pushed through the hardest challenge of your life. Realizing who you are. You started out this year being a good, homophobic, Christian girl. You tried to wear the “right” clothes and be friends with the “right” people, and you weren’t happy. You denied who you really were and that took a toll on you. You became depressed, cutting yourself, contemplating suicide, getting high. You were afraid of yourself. You thought yourself in love with a guy. You flirted with him every day. He introduced you to Wicca and you realized that you had been fooling yourself pretending to be Christian. He was the only part of your life that you liked. Then one day, you found out that he was gay. You were heartbroken. How could you even be around someone that was… that way? You attempted what you’d only thought about and failed; pushing back the memories that were threatening to surface. They finally broke through. Don’t forget the day that you remembered being a first grader and having a crush on your best friend at the time, a girl. Don’t forget how you couldn’t understand how you could be something you hated. Don’t forget how you finally realized that you were bisexual, trying to resist but finally accepting. Don’t forget that you realized it wasn’t a choice, it was who you were. Don’t forget. Congratulations, you survived this year. Just don’t forget it. Don’t forget who you are.
Over the years, I have been challenged by many things, but this year, I have been faced with a challenge I had never seen coming. I am challenged by my own attitude of not wanting to do anything with school anymore. Due to this, I have started to give up on my grades and how I do on my tests. This sounds completely irrational, I know, but you have to see things from my eyes. To do this, you have to hear me tell my story of a typical day, which surprisingly might sound like some of your days you have at school. When I wake up in the mornings, I can’t stand the fact knowing I have to go to school. It feels like clockwork that I cannot get away from. When I finally get to school, I stand by myself and think of the things I have to do that day, and I usually come up with the same answer: I have to rewrite a textbook for someone to grade. I feel like I am getting sucked into a trance of scripted, poorly coded, tasks that I have to do every day, and for what, a simple grade on a paper that won’t amount to anything in the future? What I want to have in school is originality, and sadly that hasn’t come. I needed a place I could come spread my ideas and inspire people. I can’t have that at home because no one likes or appreciates my ideas, and I have come to find out no one at school does either. I began trying to blend in and not stand out; I turned to music by putting on headphones and tuning the world out. No ideas in. No ideas out. My originality has been destroyed and I am not trying to get it back. After a while, I started questioning why I do things like rewriting a book or torturing myself over some test I am going to be taking. My answer was to give up on school and think about my future. After trying so hard to come up with a way to enjoy school, I have come to the conclusion that there isn’t a way that I could possibly do that. The way I see it, all I have is my future, and it feels like school is just holding me back from the things I want to do. I feel like writing a meaningless essay is killing my ability to learn about the things I want to pursue in. Now that I feel that way, I have put myself into this situation where I am stuck at school in this clockwork until I get home and actually focus on the things I want to do. I go home and I read about things I enjoy. I study the things I want to do. It’s like I have created my own version of school that I actually enjoy. In closing, I will say this. At some point, we all will feel the way I do about school. I’m not saying give up like I am doing; I am saying do something that makes you happy. I chose to be stress free at school so I can pursue what I want to do in the future. Before you think I am depressed, I’m not. I am very happy at home where I can be to myself, but when I’m at school I feel like the day will never end.
Change Essay: Im sure that at least once in your life you have been forced to do something that you had no say in. Something that would effect the way you do things for the rest of your life. I know I have and it has affected me both positively and negatively. Moving to the public school system after spending your whole childhood in private schooling is a dramatic change and full of new experiences. Any kind of change can be hard on a kid, but placing them in a completely new environment that they are forced to get used to is aways hard. I never realized how different it could be. I never knew that my definition of school could be so different from others. Being a shy person, public schooling really helped me to come out of my comfort zone. While knowing every single person in my private school, on a friendly level because there was so few of us. Meeting many new people, and getting involved in activities with people you had never seen before was very different for me but I grew to love it and thats what made the experience that much better. Not even having the option before to join various clubs and sports, public schooling really open new doors for me. While always having those little regrets after making a big decision, I find myself occasionally looking back to think what would have been different now if my parents made the decision to keep me in private schooling? I definitely would not have been exposed to the real world in the same way I have since the move. Private schooling is very strict and controlling, you have to be well behaved or there were very strict consequences. I didn't have a since of independence, because there weren't many decisions to make on your own. It was all pretty much laid out for you. In a private school I feel there was no individuality, everyone wares the same uniform everyday, only interacting with a total of 20 students everyday, having very few sports to get involved in. How would you ever know what you like and don't like? This change has effected my life in many ways when it came to getting to know myself. I never was involved in any activities to take my mind off school. It was always just the focus of God and school. I had a very limited amount of friends, being only 12 in my class. I had a very simple view on things, only knowing the up scale, clean, healthy, focused, structured environment I was raised in. Bottom line is if I had the chance to go back and could change my parents decision of moving me to public schooling I wouldn't change it for anything. I have in the end turned out fine. I have had the experience of both environments and had the chance to compare them unlike a lot of others. -Brooke N. Spaulding
I can say with conviction that I absolutely love tennis. It's taken over a large part of my life, what with the school season, summer leagues, weekly lessons, and now, even teaching tennis. It's a game that has not only pushed me physically, but tested my mentality. I've made some of my best friends through tennis. All in all, it seems that tennis has been nothing but good to me.
Except.
I remember the moment itself so clearly; I was in the middle of a heated match in the fall, and I was winning. I felt good, confident. I went for one awkward shot that had an unfortunate ending. My follow through felt very odd; as my arm twisted and raised itself too high, I felt a sickening pop, and suddenly, my arm felt completely immobilized. It was stuck. I didn't know what I did wrong. I didn't know what to do next. I panicked. Instinctively, I simply reached my other hand up and literally pushed my shoulder back down into its socket. I felt a searing pain as I did that and my entire arm felt limp. What had I done?
I was in absolute agony after that incident. I could hardly move my shoulder for the next several days and I spent most of my free time lying down with an ice pack over my shoulder. Eventually, though, the pain subsided. I was relieved- it seemed like it was nothing, after all. I tried to push the unpleasant memory out of my mind. However, not surprisingly, the same thing happened again, and then again. Three times total so far, I've partially dislocated my shoulder while playing tennis.
My mother and I had a chat with my doctor about it when I had my next physical. She examined me, and then she shared with me the conclusion she had come to: I am a weirdly "double jointed" person, meaning I have lots of hyper-mobile joints throughout my body. Basically, this causes my joints to be much looser than normal, typically resulting in increased flexibility. However, because I work my right shoulder a lot due to playing tennis, I've loosened that joint even further, to the point where my shoulder no longer stays in its socket- a subluxation.
I was referred to physical therapy, where for 2-3 days a week for about 3 months, I had half hour sessions dedicated to strengthening the muscles in my shoulder to help battle my loose joints and hold my shoulder in place. In addition to that, I also had chiropractic appointments on days I didn't have physical therapy, where my chiropractor worked to push my shoulder back in place. X rays revealed just how bad it really was. With all of this going on, I was suddenly faced with a choice: do I continue playing tennis and risk harming myself further, or do I take the safer, easier way out and quit altogether?
I don't regret my choice. I continue to play tennis to this day. Many of you reading this may disagree with my choice, and I can understand that. However, to me, the pros of playing tennis far outweigh the cons. To be honest, it hasn't been easy- even after all this time, I still have to get my shoulder regularly adjusted, I'm physically incapable of moving my arm certain ways, and I have to be careful to not push myself too hard, not reach too far, and not lift things that are too heavy for me. These boundaries go beyond tennis and into daily activities. Also, I have the added frustration of dealing with people who simply don't understand my physical limitations. Despite all of this, I cannot imagine giving up tennis.
I stand by my choice to face the challenge that changed my life. I haven't done it alone, though. I'm lucky to have had the support of my parents throughout this whole ordeal, and I'm glad they've stood by my decision to keep playing. My friends & teammates help encourage me when I get particularly frustrated with myself for things out of my control. My coach has worked with me and taught me alternate shots in place of those I can't do. I've accepted that this a problem that'll never be completely fixed and I'll have to deal with it for the rest of my life, so I might as well make the most of it, right? I know my limits and my weaknesses, but I'm learning to be careful and work around them. If anything, this experience has made me stronger rather than weakened me.
As a child I had often imagined the excitement of being able to drive, legally that is. Growing up on a farm leaves nothing to the imagination. Learning to drive standard and automatic since before I was riding a bike is like dancing before walking . Sitting in my dad's lap stirring the wheel, thinking that I was on top of the world, was the high point of my life. Being the oldest, the jobs fell on my shoulders, and still do. To get as much done as possible in one day it's most definitely a three person job, a person to drive, a person to stack, and a person to hand-off, being to small to do the other jobs, the task of driving came to me. Every chance I got I would beg my parent's to pull over and let me sit on their lap and drive.
We have two main highways and a one lane country road before I reach my house. Quite a distance to do much of anything. One trip to town takes about thirty minutes. A round trip is one hour. I couldn't wait to have my Sweet Sixteen, the year of all years. The year that would give freedom to all the rest of my years. No more riding the School Bus for an hour, no more having to go with the entire family to an event, and no more relying on my parents to get me somewhere. Driving seemed the perfect out. Independence.
Sixteen. The pre-adult year, right? Maybe, but not the way I wanted. When reality hit me, it hit me harder than I deserved. No cake, no presents, no party, Nothing. Worst day of my life. All my life i had dreamed of my Sweet Sixteen, the day of awaking, The event that would top all events in my life, (so far). The day that I would look back and remember as one of my favorites. The twenty-four hours that I had hoped would lead to taking the one test i didn't mind wasting my time on.
The day, January 21st, 2013, is a black hole in my memories. If ever there was a day that everything had to happen, it was this day. I won't go into detail about the tragic day, but it was and still will be the most humorous story of my great imaginings going down in flame until the close of the day.
I look back now, with almost the entire year of age sixteen under my belt, and feel gratitude, crazy right? The day that everything fell apart, the day that reality slapped me in the face. You would think gratitude would be the last thing i would feel. The enormous blow to my happy imaginings opened my eyes to the truth. I have never thought of myself as the teenager that knew more than someone else. I have always known the hard truth of the "working world", and that if you want something you have to work and earn it.
Long story short, I have wanted to drive, it seems like since forever. I have a car sitting in my driveway waiting. Payments done and pink slip in my hand. All this and the one thing i need is 4x2 piece of plastic.
By now majority of my friends have gotten their intermediate and full license. Whereas I haven't even got my permit. I have never felt that I had to hop on the bandwagon. Why follow and do things just because it's accepted? With little more than a month away from my seventeenth birthday I have come to realize that with driving it comes with just too much time and energy than i feel like giving out. I have a free ride to school everyday, I get to participate with my brother and sister and get to enjoy watching what they do. With my friends now driving, I don't have to ask my parents to drive me to meet them. It feels like it was a just a huge dream. A dream that I knew would change with time. I know I'll get my licenses eventually, but now I have more important things to worry about, and spend my energy on.
My post is going to be rather odd. I’m going to tell you all about a choice or challenge or change I am making as I am writing this. I will save it until the end to see who can figure out what the choice is, turning this assignment into a game. I found it rather difficult to think of a choice or challenge or change that was worth writing about. And yes while Hill told us it would be fine to write about something simple, I just couldn’t bring myself to write about what I had eaten for breakfast this morning. I have come to the realization that our choices, challenges, and changes, while they may seem important at the time, may not be such important moments in our lives. While I am in no way saying that some of the posts here aren’t important, but in the long run they may not be defining moments in our lives. Especially with the fact that we have most of our lives left. As I sit here on my bed, looking at the computer screen breathing and wondering if this will be long enough waiting to get done so I can eat and play xbox and thinking about how much time I wasted today just relaxing when I should have been writing this and just thinking about what I’m writing, I realized that thinking about all the things you’re doing at one time is astronomical. But you’ll be doing it all for the rest of your life. So you may not think this had been a “story” about a time I made a choice or dealt with a change or took on a challenge. But it is. In the 30 seconds of my life that I have described I have done all three. I made a choice to write this about a simple moment in my life, I have described my change in perception on how much we really do in a single moment, and I took the challenge to do this a few hours before it was due like I’m sure many of my classmates have done. So how many of you guessed it right?
After realizing my first post didnt have enough for me to expand on i have created another one with a new topic. this one is a bit more sad than my first one; the change/ challenge i have faced was the daetrh of my first dog. She was a shih-tzu and her name was Lulu. I love animals and would play with her often. We grew up together, I got her when I was four and we grew closed over the years. When I had moved back to Frankfort I initially didn't have any friends because I was new and didn't know anybody. My dog was there with me though, to be at my side, to keep me company.
A couple of years ago during winter break my freshman year she passed away, dieing of natural causes at the age of 11. Looking back I'm lucky it happened during some sort of break away from school because I was severely depressed for the next week or so. I hardly ate anything, all I would do all day is sit in my room and listen to The Beatles. I was distraught I guess you could say, I had lost of of my best and oldest friends. After winter break I had managed to shrug off the worst of it but I was still upset, you couldn't tell by looking at me but I was. It was hard to change at home because I continued doing things like fixing up dog food and setting bowls of water in the floor. It would upset me when I realized what I was doing without any thought no longer mattered.
My mom was also upset over all this and decided we should get another dog. I was p***ed when she proposed the idea because it felt like we would be replacing our old dog. She said " Okay we won't." But she ended up getting two shih-tzu puppies anyway. I'm glad she did, over the last two years I have grown closer to them as well. Even though they will never replace my first dog they have helped to heal the emotional wound.
P.S. I thought two dogs were enough and you know what happens? One of the dogs ended up having a litter of seven puppies in August. We kept two of them and I thought it was a bad idea to keep any, well I was wrong. There is one I have become pretty attached to because he just follows me everywhere.
- Cameron Bunyea, head of the PPNTOO, Preservation of the Pacific Northwestern Tree Octopus Organization
The natural enemy of the tree octopi are Sasquatch so please help to reduce the Sasquatch population.
Before this past summer, I would be perfectly confident in telling anyone that I’m an introvert, because I didn’t see anything wrong with it. I could, hypothetically, drive myself out to a deserted field in Utah (because nothing happens in Utah), and live all by myself in a trailer for like, six months with no problem. I know the Social Butterflies are cringing at the thought but I always figured that if I was content, what does it matter?
Except, this summer, I learned that it does matter, when I stepped out of my comfort zone and traveled to Brazil to teach students English. I wasn’t very content in how being an introvert left me. It’s not that I’m of afraid of human interaction… I just don’t practice it as much as I should. Because of this, I wasn’t very skilled in essentially the most important aspect of the trip. I ended up learning so much about people I had never met before, and myself. For me, I’m constantly challenged not to just sink back into what’s comfortable because I now realize that people are created to interact and how important it is to make connections in life.
Not too long ago I made a choice, a choice that resulted in a few challenges that both my friends and I had to face. July 5th, 2013. It was me, Heather, Samantha, Mackenzee and Sierra- all just hanging out, bored. When boredom struck we decided to just drive around- being that Mackenzee and myself were fairly new drivers, it sounded fun. We took 2 different cars just to be safe because of the intermediate rules. Little did we know we were headed for what turned out to be one of the scariest things I think we've all experienced. It started to rain- bad. It was around 10:30PM. I was driving Heather, Samantha and myself. Mackenzee and Sierra followed. Going around what I had no idea what such a sharp turn, boom. A wrecked car and three very scared teenage girls. Being that I wasn't even driving my car, I was driving Heathers was even scarier. Smoke was everywhere, a stone wall was knocked completely down and I was the only one who reacted immediately. I got out, looked in the car and saw my two best friends sitting there helplessly. I yelled "Hesther, Samantha! Please! Get out!" I had no idea if anyone was okay. Thankful they both reacted and with just a little trouble we all got out okay. Long story shorter- with only a few minor injuries and the help of some awesome paramedics we all came out alive. What a scary challenge we faced that night. One I hope no one has to face. It really opened my eyes how quickly things can happen, and the worst part was facing out parents- almost an even BIGGER challenge. And after all, it turned out to be a great lesson learned. -Lauren Knarr.
One challenge I’ve faced my whole life it pushing people away. I don’t know why, but it’s been a habit of mine for as long as I can remember. And the thing is, the people who I push away tend to be the ones I care about most. Usually, I’ll allow myself to get close to a person. But, after a while, I’ll start to get scared that I’m being too clingy. Every time I talk to the person I’ll have a voice in the back of my mind saying “shut up. Shut up. They’re getting annoyed of you.” It’s that fear of being secretly hated and unwanted that drives me to distancing myself from people whose relationships meant a lot to me. I’ve pushed away countless friends and boyfriends, but the most prominent relationship that I’ve ruined would probably be the one with my dad. After my parents got divorced, my two sisters wanted to spend more time with my mom, so I decided to spend more time with my dad to keep him from feeling left out. My dad and I had always been close and I just felt like he was my best friend. I could tell him anything. When I was about 10 years old, my dad and his girlfriend started getting pretty serious. Although it was completely untrue, I thought he would want to spend more time with her instead of me. I began to shut him out. I remember trying to only talk to him when I needed something, and even then I tried to make the conversation as quick as possible. Looking back on it, I was actually hurting my dad’s feelings. But, at the time, I felt like I was just doing him a favor. Since then, my dad and I have never been the same. I’d distanced myself from him for almost two years, and in those two years we’d both changed quite a bit. I tried and tried to make things the way they were before, but we’re practically strangers. We still get along, but very rarely can I feel completely comfortable around him. It’s been almost six years since then, so I’ve pretty much accepted the fact that I’m never going to have a close relationship with him. I know compared to a lot of your guys’ stories mine doesn’t seem like a big deal, but it really makes me sad thinking about it. As I said before, I do this all the time. It’s something that I don’t even realize I’m doing until after it’s done. It’s affected the way I interact with people and kept me from being able to keep people around for extended periods of time. I hope I’ll be able to deal with my, we’ll call them fears, more efficiently one day. But, as of right now, it’s still a challenge that I face regularly.
Caroline, Well even though I hardly know who are (not at all) I can honestly say that your story and your feelings ARE a big deal. They're your feelings, and it's your story to tell. It's your own life adventure, unique to you. And on the note of your fear-challenge, pushing away people for fear of making them leave you right? I've deal with that as well recently, but end up blabbing nonstop to them about how afraid I am of them leaving, which in turn annoys them. I would say all you need to do, is remind yourself that they love you for who you are and ain't going nowhere if they're your real friends, and will shove back if you push them away.
Honestly, the biggest challenge I've had in my life is the balancing act called my life. With so many things going on in my life, it's just as calm as Ms Hill's desk is organized. While every individual part of my life is a challenge, when you put them all together my life is like a never ending wind up toy.
The first aspect of my life the is difficult to juggle would be my extra-curricular activities. The three main activities that take up m time are archery, academic team and band. Truthfully, archery is something that calms me down and takes me away from the stress of the aspects of my life. However, academic team and band are completely different stories. Both of these activities require so much preparation that I hardly have time for, but it also seems like all of their events conflict with each other. This forces me to constantly choose: band or academic team.
The other main component of my challenging schedule is my course load. With four extremely difficult AP classes (as well as band... more preparation). It wouldn't be very difficult if it was just the classes, but the true killer is the homework. With an average of two hours of homework a day, as well as instrumental practice and voice practice, my average sleep time is about five to six hours a night.
If that's not challenging then I don't know what is. My life is like a speeding train that goes nonstop. Even if I derail, I have to find a way to get going again because I know that every inch that I go will help later on down the tracks.
My first day of middle school was probably the second scariest day of my life. Imagine, you have spent your whole life, with two other people, your family, every class, every lunch, every after school activity. The whole 9 yards. On my first day of middle school I was without my lifeline, my support. When I got my schedule I remember thinking this isn't that bad, and then, I compared it to theirs, my siblings. At first I thought yay this will be fun, I’ll make my own friends, have my own classes and my own homework. That “yay” was not the case. I walked into the theater on that fateful day and realized that I was scared to death. I sat down in Mrs. Stewart’s row dreading the day ahead. We walked to our first class, quiet and shy. I remember this teacher, at the back to school bash, she and another teacher (Mrs. Fryman) argued who had the best triplet, Keenan or MacKenzie? Did it even really matter? Neither of the teachers had talked to us for more than five minutes, but was determined that one was ultimately better than the other. Having recalled that memory, I felt a little more comfortable, maybe I was the best, a least in her eyes I was. When the first bell rang, walking into the hallway I’ll admit to scanning for their faces, and hoping that somehow they would get changed into my next class. Mrs. Crask, Mr. Shepard, Mrs. Fryman. Zip. Zilch. Nada. No siblings in there. When lunch approached I was sure to see them. They weren't at my lunch table, or any one close to it, Harper absorbed talking to her new and old friends at the third table, and Keenan surrounded by the guys at the 8th table. I had a seemingly perfect view of each of them, near the middle of the room, on the aisle. I watched them attentively hoping to catch their eyes, a sense of recognition, a sense of desperation and confusion. Anything. But alas nothing, nothing but smiling faces and ignorance of their forgotten sister, the one they had no clue who needed them. I moped my way through the rest of lunch, and walked grudgingly back to class. After the 4th bell, we were free to go to enrichment. I rushed out of my classroom, standing in the middle of the hallway like a kid lost in the store. Looking for a familiar face, I looked up the hall, and Harper was escaping with Keenan up the ramp and away from me. I frantically tried to catch up, but they were gone. I had lost my chance to talk to them, to see how they were coping. I finished off my day in silence. Contemplating the horribly tragedy middle school seemed to be, and how could the others before me gotten it so wrong. I was utterly alone; how they could have left me behind, not telling me they were moving on. Words cannot describe how abandoned I felt, how helpless that first day was for me. I had them with me every step of the way and all the sudden they were gone. I came to realize that you never really realize the good things you have until they are gone. Those are exactly what they were and still are good things. That first day of middle school was a big change for me as well as a challenge. I've grown as a person because of that first day, which subsequently was a first of a lot of firsts. I became involved in agriculture, I ran all alone on the cross country team, I joined the basketball team and started to become the person I am today. I've come to realize that I made myself so different from them, willingly distancing myself from them as well as their activities and came to realize who I was as a person. I became my OWN individual. I became MacKenzie Jones. A triplet; but not one of the triplets.
One of the big challenges in my life is my introverted personality. For those of you who know me, if you were asked to describe me, one word would probably come to your mind: quiet. It may sound like it wouldn't be a challenge or that it would be easy to “get over”, but it is very difficult. I've been asked many times “Why don’t you ever talk?” or some variation of that. I wish I had an answer for that, because honestly, I don’t know. Nothing traumatic has ever happened to me, I had a normal upbringing, but I’m still quiet.
I can trace being quiet all the way back to elementary school. However, I can still never trace a reason. Well, maybe being in speech classes in elementary school caused me in part to be shy, but I do not remember what was going through my head when I was in Kindergarten. Not that the reason matters much anymore, as me being quiet has just become what I’ve accepted. It’s strange to actually consider the reasons why you act the way you do. There is nothing physical holding me back from being more outgoing, but everything mentally is.
I’d consider myself an anxious person in general. I tend to worry about everything and a lot of things can make feel uneasy. I am scared that I’ll say something stupid or that someone won’t like me. I’m afraid of being viewed as someone who is awful to be around.
Despite all of this, I actually enjoy other people. If I’m comfortable in a social situation, I really enjoy it. Even if I’m not comfortable, it is nerve-wracking but at the same time exciting. A lot of the time my mind goes blank and I can’t think of anything to say, which I hate, but usually I am still enjoying the interaction with others, even if it doesn't look like it.
Though I’m still a pretty quiet person, I have made some strides since, say, middle school. I try to just relax and not take anything to heart. This has helped a lot as I’m not stressed out about inconsequential things as much. I am definitely more comfortable in social situations, though I’m far from feeling perfect about them. I still have a long way to go. This is part of the reason why I’m applying to GSP. I don’t know what my chances are to get in, but I think that just throwing me into a new environment will force me to get better at this. Hopefully in the future, I will continue to become more comfortable socially. -Ethan Aldridge
It was a sunny day close to the start of my freshman year in high school. I had high hopes of joining the freshman powder puff football team, from what my friend Elizabeth told me it sounded like a lot of fun. She was at my house with me that day and she was going to help me learn how to catch the ball without flinching. We were having a ton of fun running around in the field trying to catch the ball when a Volkswagen Bug happened to pass by. We were very big into the slug-bug game at the time (the game were you punch someone when you see the particular car and call out the color of the vehicle), so naturally, when she called “Blue one!” I started to run from her.
As I ran and began to make a turn, a sudden wave of terrifying shock rippled through my body. It was like expecting to take a step but your foot only hitting empty space, your brain could not process anything, but could only scream “Panic! Danger! What’s happening?” It was a split second but felt like years of confusion as I ended up on the ground, my body shaking with the shock and the adrenalin that was pumping through my veins, and my right knee in sharp pain. Elizabeth helped me hobble back to the house and I spent the next week on crutches.
I’ve grown quite used to the feeling of shock and panic of having my knee cap popping out of place. Actually, I haven’t. The sudden rush of adrenalin and the feeling like you’ve just been shot is not something you get used to as much as familiar with. As you can imagine, having this happen to yourself numerous times creates some paranoia. Paranoia is a seed in the back of your brain they you may not be thinking about but you are constantly aware of.
This past summer I went three months without an incident and thought I was stronger. I believed that I had outgrown the incidents but they came back with no mercy. The day of homecoming I was WALKING across the living room in the house when my knee made a jerk that felt like it was locking up but collapsing at the same time. At this point my thought of panic is no longer “What is happening?” but instead it is “God, no, please not again!” After that fall I was fed up. A few days later I went to see my doctor and he sent me to a sports knee specialist in Lexington. They x-rayed my knee and did some tests to determine that the right knee cap was too loose and it was caused by the fact that the muscles above my knee that were supposed to keep my knee cap on track were weak because I had been subconsciously protecting that knee since I first injured it. The seed had not only taken over part of my thoughts, but my body too. The doctor told me what I had to do to strengthen my leg and gave me a brace to keep my knee cap in place whenever I did rigorous activity. I also found out that a little chip of my kneecap broke off in the original incident (or it might have happened when I hit my knee on a tree while horseback riding but I forgot to mention that), but the doctor told me that it should be okay if they just left it.
I am now on the road to recovery, but will always remember what I learned from this struggle. I have learned that if I have a problem, to never put it off or pretend like it’s going to fix itself because that’s not how life works. If there is something wrong you fix it or it will only get worse.
I love how you ended the blog post with the moral of the story and your use of side notes throughout the post. Overall, it was well written and easy to follow. I noticed one mistake, in the last sentence of the third paragraph. I believe that you intended to type “that” instead of the current “they”. I hope your knee heals soon. ~Madison Wallace
I will repeatedly want to care for others, mostly friends or peers, just so that they know that I respect or trust them. Other times it’s just so that they can like me just the tiniest bit. I almost have goals that I will have people respect and like me as much as I do for them. I always want to have people around me that I can entertain with my personality or that they can make me smile. I hate when I don’t do something right for someone and I will just apologize repeatedly, even if it’s a tiny mistake. I will put others before myself like giving a snack I was going to eat for a small supper because I leave straight from school to swim team and after that I will go straight to my dance class smelling like chlorine and with wet hair. Just writing this shows I also want to always stay busy. This is when I come to putting myself first. I will want to be active but I barely can tell when I have had enough. If my friends around me are still going when I feel like dying, I will still try to stay the same pace as them. I just know that I wish to be around people that I know they will trust me and respect me. So far I have only found a handful of those people. And out of that handful I have one person I can really tell everything that I am feeling at anytime, and I have only known him since middle school. The respect has not come from a lot of people. I get called a wimp because I will flinch at somebody just tapping my shoulder; those people don’t see the times I fall in dance class and get right back up to continue the dance. I ignore the people that show no respect in class at school, swim practice, and dance class when I need to learn something. If they aren’t respecting the teacher and rest of the class, they don’t respect me. Realizing now I have almost ranted just in the last paragraph and that people will not agree with what I have said. But I won’t change it because it is the truth and people that read it may or may not see that they are involved in it. I still face the same challenge of wanting to love and to be loved by my peers. I just hope that people can understand me someday and still accept me in their lives with what I feel. Victoria C. Word
Go to sleep Tori. I tell you every day to pace yourself. Go YOUR pace not theirs. Haha I guess you can't slow down though. Just don't forget which friends are a phone call away. and actually eat food for crying out loud! I feel like your father sometimes having to remind you. And in terms of the essay, write it when you're not half asleep and it'll be better.
C. Joybell C. said “There is no such thing as a "broken family." Family is family, and is not determined by marriage certificates, divorce papers, and adoption documents. Families are made in the heart.” Divorce is a very common thing in the United States today. Some children grow up without a mom or dad, and sometimes a child’s parents get a divorce at some point while the child is still at home. For me, it was the second option. In the beginning, I was very upset and did not understand why, but I have grown to understand these things better. In my family and lifeskills classes, I was taught that divorce creates “broken families”, but from my personal experience, it can bring a family closer.
I was ten years old when my parents got divorced. I had just come back from 4-H camp a few days before they told me and my sister. We were called into their room and they news was broken to us. Naturally, I started bawling and was completely inconsolable. I did not understand why my parents had made this decision; all I knew was that “they did not love each other anymore and it was not my fault.” After a few weeks, I had to divorce care class and be with all of the little kids because I was not old enough to be in the big kids’ class. For a week, I had to go to this class and listen to the constant “It is not your fault. Your parents still love you.” It was not fun at all. As my ten year old self, I learned that divorce is not always a bad thing, but it changes life dramatically.
Now, six years post-divorce, I have gained a lot of new insights. The divorce was honestly for the better. My parents are much happier, I have met many new people and am happy to call them family, and I feel like my life has changed for the good. When I was ten, I thought my life was ruined and I would end up without one of my parents, but I have gotten much closer to both of them. The main thing I have learned is that even when your strongest support system is broken apart, it can always be rebuilt into something even better than it was before. My parents have learned that even though they are not a couple anymore, they can still get along and be friendly, especially when it involves their children. My sister has gained the insight that your life may seem like it is falling apart, but in the end, it turns out great, with many new people and experiences.
Divorce causes a lot of people’s worlds to turn upside down. At first I felt like that is what happened to me, but I now realize that was not the case. My parents did not have the typical nasty divorce, and are still friends. My life is better than it would have been, and I have learned so many new things from the divorce. I grew as an individual, and my family grew closer in some ways as well. There is no such thing as a “broken” family because everyone has a different life. Just because someone has a different way of going about their family does not mean that it is broken.
Part I As a child I was told " I was the lucky one," "I was lucky 'she' walked out when 'she' did," "I was lucky I never had time to bond with my mother." I was told "Austin had time to bond,you never did." That was all a lie. I bonded to a point. No I didn't remember her. I couldn't tell you her hair color, her height, or tell you about her smile. I never was shown a photo of her. But on the inside I had bonded because when she left I lost part of my heart I can never get back...
As a child I never felt lucky. I always felt like I was the reason 'she' left. I remember asking questions about the subject, only to be told to run along and play, to be told I wasn't old enough to understand. The worst thing I think they ever told us was that when she left she took me. She told my brother and father she wanted nothing to do with austin. Yeah she kept me for a couple of months longer than she did him. But she finally just chose to abandon both of us. Austin and I always blamed our selves; but when they finally told us that she wanted one of us over the other, that only made us blame ourselves even more. he blamed himself because he thought I lost my chance at a to grow up with our 'mother;' i blamed myself for not holding on, not fighting to stay, for being to weak to have her keep us both.(No Austin and I never hated each other over this subject. We never said that it was one or the others fault. We blamed ourselves. We never once each other)
I grew up with pain. I grew up knowing betrayal. I grew up knowing exactly how it felt to have you life crumble. To have no one to lean on. No answers to why your life has to hurt so much. No answers to why you. I never once got a single answer. This wasn't the worst I had in store. No it was the very beginning... I was about to lose everything. I was about to change in a way that I could never be 'normal' again. Better yet I was about to become someone totally different, and there was no turning back. This was a change i had no control over.
Part II My dad married again when I was 3ish.. this time marring the devil herself. She put us through hell. We were not aloud to speak of our mom or sisters. This was a rule we learned not to break very early on, because if we did break this rule, if we merely mentioned 'her' name we would be locked in our rooms for the rest of the day. Austin is the one who challenged her. He was the strong one...but as soon as he challenged that devil he meet a great deal of pain. He was grounded, he had to sit in a chair facing the wall for two weeks..doing nothing.(besides eating, school, and going to the bathroom) After years of her abuse to us, cheating on our father and her drug abuse my father left her. I was in 4th grade at the time. This was the same year my life took its fatal fall. This is when i really lost everything. This is when my pap-paw died. My pap-paw was everything to me. I talked for hours to that man. He was my best friend, and when he died i lost everything. I had no one to talk to. No one to go to. I had nothing. This was the same year, and around the same time my mother chose to be a mother.
She stayed around for about a year. She let us meet our two older sisters, I found out I had a younger brother.. (this was the only child she ever choose to raise.. this only made me wonder more...why i wasn't good enough to be raised by my mother. What had i done so wrong for her to hate me so much..why was she the only person i never could please..) I also found out i even had a niece...and a nephew on the way.. (my niece is probably in middle school and my nephew should be either in first grade.) In the beginning she would come every Saturday and every Sunday for hours. she would hang out with her for hours, finally being able to have a 'normal life.' this continued for a while. One day we asked her why she left, she didn't answer us but i remember what she told our granny when she thought we couldn't hear. "I don't know why they blame me, they need to get over that. It was the past, I forgave them. They should be able to forgive me." This added to the pain I felt, it made me blame myself even more. It made me crave forgiveness. I wanted to forgive her, but there was a part of me that couldn't a part of me that knew the truth. a part of me that knew it wasn't my fault, that part wouldn't let me forgive her. after a while, she started to only come on sunday, and soon later she quit coming all together. She basically stayed long enough for us to re bond, then she left without saying goodbye. She left, leaving us with the loss again. Leaving us craving her attention all over again. This time the betrayal was to much. This time it hurt bad enough that it took all of my power to just get up and go though a 'normal' routine day. I walked through life like a zombie. ignoring the people around me, blocking out any type relationships, terrified to be close to anyone. Terrified that everyone was going to betray me the way she did. the pain was consuming me, more each day. JW
It keep building up and building up. Finally I Broke my freshman year. I turned to drugs and alcohol to get away from the pain. IT numbed the pain i felt, it aloud me to be able to be around other people. It didn't take away the pain, it only made it livable. It allowed me to be able to do the things i enjoyed, and once the alcohol wasn't enough i turned to drugs. By the time sophomore year's winter break came around my pain turned to hatred. I'm not sure why my pain ever turned into hatred but im glad it did. When it turned into hatred it was as if i had found a ladder in the darkest, deepest whole ever. it helped me, it made it to wear i could go days with out drinking. Days soon turned to weeks. Weeks to months. I face this hatred daily. I get up and sometimes I face pain instead. On those days its a challenge to just get dressed. its a challenge to put a smile on my face. on those days, I feel weak. I feel as if its my fault, I blame my self on those days, I blame myself that I don't reach out to her, I tell myself that if i would just act like a 'normal daughter she would come back. Then i wake up and realize it never was my fault, i fight down the pain so that I can live. I don't fake who I am. I prefer to hide my true feelings. I prefer to build up walls and not let people in. i do this because of pain. Pain can either consume you or shape you. I chose to accept the pain in ways others wouldn't. I chose to make it hatred. I chose to keep it, since after all I couldn't really leave it behind. No I don't let it define me but I also won't tell you it isn't apart of me. Yes i see her everywhere, we don't acknowledge each other, Austin tries to but he wastes his time. Because she could care less, and she never did care. I tried to tell him this, just like he tried to tell me she did. Finally we settled on just leaving the other alone. This has been my biggest challenge ever. I over came a pain, that has shaped my life, a pain that has made me not want to keep on going. It turned into something that would give me a reason to keep on going. I wont forgive her, and but I wont blame myself ever again either. She walked out, I didn't.
You got heart Jenny. Don't lie to yourself and say you don't. Cuz it gives you the courage to be a friend and a good one at that. So don't if up or all of us, your friends, are gonna have to MAKE you see how good of a person you are. Just saying
On the day that we moved my mom went to check me out of school. Then later that night we went to go say our goodbyes too everyone it really didnt hit me until everyone one started to cry that we wont be seeing them for a long while and that things wont be the be same. we're moving almost to the other side of country . but on our way here it started to snow and i got excited because iv never seen snow before and i was also excited because i have never been to kentucky before . so when we got here i was surpised because louisville was a nice little city and i pictured it different in my head. everyone was so different they talked different, dressed different and westren hills is so small compared to the school i went, but at first i liked then after a while i started to get home sick and miss my famliy . i went from seeing them everyday too seeing every summer. i really regert moving here because i never get to see my family and friends and its boring dont get me wrong kentucky would be a nice place to visit but i would move back in a heart beat . for the most part though iv gotten used to it and i kind of feel like if i did move back it would be sooo different . quanesha
I was always a child who dwelt within myself. Having no siblings I learned to keep myself entertained in quiet ways. Drawing and reading and acting out scenes with figurines. That never left me. And in that way, my father and I were kindred spirits. He was a solitary, quiet man who would rather stay home and read a book than anything. I think that's why it took him a while to warm up to me; a baby was the opposite of his cup of tea, a whining, confused toddler the same. It wasn't that he didn't like me. I was just so foreign to him. A small, breakable package that required complete attention and made noises. He didn't realize that I was a chip off the old block until after he and my mother divorced and I was three; I stayed at his apartment after school while my mom was at work. I wanted to watch T.V. Having nothing else, I suppose, he popped a documentary into the VCR. I was enchanted with it, and he with my curiosity. Hearing the sweeping opening chords of “Walking With Dinosaurs” still pulls me to emotional shreds. Not long after that, He began to take advantage of his bi-weekly weekend custody of me. He got a new house and I had my own room there and it was good. He started reading Harry Potter to me, and Lord of the Rings. I reminded him how much he loved cartoons and we watched them all together every other Saturday. He introduced me to computers, another section of his personal paradise, and they quickly became part of my own. He'd play music from his youth,the 60's, and sing along with a soft voice in the car. “Lemon tree, very pretty, and the lemon flower is sweet, but the fruit of the poor lemon, is impossible to eat.” Every day that he knew I'd be there, he'd get me a little present; a tube of bubbles or a new pony or a story book. He'd put it in my closet. And so every other Friday when I came in the front door I'd ask “Is there a surprise for me?” He's always say “Maybe.” And he would always mean yes. I think all the gifts he gave me were, at least somewhat, to make up for the lack of time he gave me. He could have gotten 50/50 custody, but he didn't. He chose solitude, and that's alright; he gave more of himself to me than he did to anyone else. I forgive him. In second grade, when I got my first pair of glasses, I was upset. I thought I looked silly. I came in and sat on his couch and asked him if he thought so too. He gave me a pensive, concentrated look.
“You look studious.” He said with a smile.
I never worried about my glasses again. We read all of the Lord of the Rings books, Hobbit included. We watched many a movie together. We got all the way to the sixth Harry Potter. Then my mom got off the phone one day and told me he had gone to the doctor. I was in fifth grade. “Will he be alright, though? He'll get better.” “We don't know.” She was caringly honest as she always is. I am thankful for that. “He has cancer, and that's very bad.” His disease progressed slowly after that, but it seemed so fast. Soon he couldn't read to me anymore, not feeling well enough. Soon he would get up to go to the bathroom and be gone for two hours. I would sit on the couch and keep watching Angry Beavers like the naïve, innocent idiot I was. Soon he went to the hospital and stayed. Soon he couldn't talk anymore. I wish to God I could remember the last thing he said to me, but when you refuse to believe any words are the final ones you don't pay them as much mind. He liked cats. I'd get books about cats and leave them at his bedside like he could read them. I'd draw cats in the back of them, as a surprise for when he finished. He never saw the drawings, of course. He couldn't lift a pencil anymore. He'd smile, croak a “Thank you” when he still could. Samantha Hensley
Soon he came back home. A hospital bed looks so out of place in a living room. So does an unresponsive parent. I was still too stupid to think he would die. I saw him die. That sounds jarring but it wasn't so much, just the idea of it. All I saw was a comatose, frail and sunken silhouette that could have been my dad, I guess, in a crueler world. A heart monitor that gave a steady beep instead of the pulsing rhythm that had been there before. After that I don't remember much. I don't remember the next few weeks, except the funeral. It wasn't that bad. I cried some, not much. My great aunt or something gave me a hideous angel doll and I never saw her, or most of the people there, again. It hadn't set in yet.
So there is the change and challenge; the choice was how to deal with it. It took a while to set in. I had just finished reading 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea. I realized that the number in the title was not the depth, but the distance the characters had traveled. I'll have to tell Daddy that, I thought to myself. Then it set in. I was in hysterics that evening. Eventually I regained my footing and I only cried when things suddenly reminded me of him like tripping and falling face first into a memory. Plastic dinosaurs, lemons, denim shirts, the smell of old paper backs and the sound of a dated windows pc booting up. Little senseless things. I chose to get stronger. No day to day problem compares to facing death. Less phases you when you've been phased to the breaking point. I'm not a goofy kid anymore. I'm goofy kid with a shifted paradigm. I don't complain much anymore. I'm naïve and lighthearted and I laugh and smile most of the time. I'm also tough and cold and real. More than real, Corporeal. People see me as a jester, and it's a guise I'm willing to accept, but I am a knight. My sword is intellect, I sharpen it each day; my armor is keen tenacity and it hardens with every blow. I tell people my dad is dead when it seems appropriate. When people are sharing parent stories and waiting for my input, or when I use the past tense in reference to him and they ask why. They're usually shocked, then pitying, nursing. That's nice of them but I don't need it. Not that I'm not sensitive; I want a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to be lent, and I will always, I promise you, do the same. But I want something else too: respect. I want you to remember that Samantha Hensley is more than meets the eye.
Samantha, your blog post is truly inspirational and I couldn't help but tear up. Even though everyone might not have someone that they are close to pass away, eventually they will go through that experience making this a very relatable topic. I love how you mention how it has changed you but at the same time you don't let it define you. The memories you made with your dad is what intrigued me the most so maybe you could add a few more. Overall amazing post. :) p.s. you are so much more than what meets the eye!
So we're supposed to write about a challenge we have faced, well if you would have asked me todo this 3 month ago I would have been clueless about what to write about, but my life has changed dramatically since he first day of junior year. After a long and happy 17 years of marriage, my parents have decided to get a divorce. Those of you who's parents have been divorced since you were little are provably thinking "That's not a challenge" Well to you I may but be but for me I think that tho is the biggest challenge I'm ever gonna face in life.
For as long as I can remember my parents have been happy. They've had that type of relationship that everyone dreams about. They never fought in front of people, heck you would think that they didn't even fight at all. Then one day someone stopped trying in there relationship. Someone fell out of love with the other parson.
I can remember the day like it was yesterday, I got home from school and as soon as I walked in I could tell something was wrong. My mom and dad were both sitting on opposite ends of the couch, not even looking at each other, and the tv was off. (The tv is never off in my house). My mom looked at me and said we need to have a talk. I thought maybe they were mad about one of my grades or something. Never in a million years would I have guessed that the next words that would come out of her mouth was going to be "your dad and I have decided to get a divorce." I didn't believer her at first, I just stood there dumbfounded. I didn't know what to say or do. I thought that maybe I was the reason that they were doing this. Maybe it was all my fault. Maybe I had done something that tore there relationship apart. They assured me that was not the reason. The next week or so was the hardest if my life. My dad moving out, my mom always upset and crying. It was really hard on me to just sit back and watch this happen.
The next few weeks took a toll on me as well. I didn't want to talk to anyone, I didn't want to eat, I even had to cry my self to sleep a few times. Knowing that you're parents are never going to be together ever again is hard to swallow. My friends all assured me that they were there for me if I needed to talk, but they all seemed happy and I didn't want to bother them with my problems. So I put on a smile for everyone and acted happy, but inside I was crying. I didn't know what to do with my self. It was hard on me and I felt like no one really cared at all. I felt so alone. I felt like I had no one I could talk to or even trust. I was devastated. But after a few weeks I started to notice a change in my mom. She was happy again. Always smiling and laughing about things, so that gave me hope that I would get happier too. At times I still feel alone and sad, but I know that in the end I'm going to be happy and my parents are going to be happy and that's all that really matters to me.
Sometimes, the biggest challenges in our lives are also what make us who we are. I know that is true about the biggest challenge in my life; being involved in too many things. I love being involved in school activities and programs but they can take a hefty toll on my sanity and stress level, my relationship with by friends and family, and how I have learned that, sometimes, it’s better just to sit back and take a break.
ReplyDeleteWhen I wake up in the morning, the first thing I do is look at my calendar. I’ll have dance practice until five, band rehearsal for that concert we have Sunday night, homework for three AP classes, not to mention a KYA bill due next week. Sometimes, I look at it and just want to bawl. The problem is I enjoy all of my activities and can’t imagine giving any of them up. That’s generally what gets me through each week, knowing that eventually I will be rewarded for my hard work, whether that is a good grade, a winning dance competition, or being voted in to an office at one of my conferences. However, the most frustrating challenge is when my practices or events conflict. For example, some days I’ll have dance and golf and band all at the same time. It’s extremely difficult for me to choose between these, as I’m afraid of letting anyone down.
Speaking of letting people down, my hoards of commitments often cause me to neglect my friends and family. My parents are divorced and my dad lives in Richmond as well as my younger brother. I hardly ever see them because, most weekends, I’ll have community service, a conference, or dance practice. Additionally, my friends often feel neglected. I hardly ever spend time with them, and, as a result, I have very few people I can call friends and even fewer who live in the same state. I do concede that I often neglect my friends for my boyfriend, who has become a very important aspect of my life, yet also has his own effect on my commitments.
My relationship with my significant other has taught me many things; whether those things are good or bad is up to interpretation. I have learned that sometimes it’s okay to sit back and relax. Any of you who know me, know I am one of the most high-strung, stressed people around, and my SO has taught me that sometimes it’s okay to let go. This has had its own effect on my activities. I have had to drop some things or pay less attention to some things that are important to me. However, I’ve found that, if I take out a little time for myself each week, I am a much happier, more fulfilled person.
You may ask why I chose this as my challenge. Everyone, including myself, is dealing with new challenges every day. However, I felt, through exposing my challenge with over-committing myself with you, my fellow AP students, it would help others to realize that you don’t always have to do everything perfect, and sometimes taking some time to yourself can have the biggest impact on your happiness.
Sidney Cobb
I really like how you included why you chose your challenge because it really helps us connect with what you are trying to say.
DeleteI might consider moving your last paragraph, or pieces of it, to the first paragraph though.
-Makayla Hawkins
I really enjoyed reading your blog post. I love the use of personal examples and I think this is a fantastic post! Maybe you can schedule your time more wisely, or dropping a few activities. You could try doing one activity one day and alternating days and activities. I saw nothing wrong with the writing, but I did see a few spelling errors. Again, I really loved this post and I can relate to you a lot about being stressed! It all gets better!
DeleteEvan Momtgomery
I've been going to school with you for a while, and hey we aren't friends but I do understand what you mean and where you're coming from. Committing all you have to a multitude of things doesn't leave you with a lot left to reflect on in your free time. To be honest you're lucky if you have free time with all the things you dump on yourself. But you d it out of willingness and good intentions, and I'm sure you'll end up farther ahead and with more money than the rest of us can admit to gaining.
ReplyDeleteTyler Chapman
It was the summer before my freshman year of high school. For some reason, my best friend and I thought it would be a good idea to sneak out. It would be just this one time, we had never done anything bad and just wanted to feel like “normal” teenagers, because, you know, that’s what everyone else was doing. We all know what it feels like to be a rebel and get that rush of disobeying your parents. We weren’t bad kids. We followed all the rules and never got in trouble at school. We were just looking for a little trouble to get into for once. We wanted to feel cool, be like everyone else, so that’s just what we did… or tried to do.
ReplyDeleteI had gone over to her house during the day that day, nothing out of the ordinary because we were always together. Soon after her parents went to bed, we started getting ready, getting nervous. We were in it as long as one of us didn’t back out. I, of course, wasn’t going to back out. But, I was secretly hoping she was going to. A couple hours passed and we started going down the stairs from her bedroom, hoping her parents weren’t going to wake up, and out the back door we went! Everything was going smooth… except for the dog! We had forgotten all about the dog and you would never guess what the dog was doing, barking. Not only was her dog barking but the neighbors across the street’s dogs were barking. That was it, we sprinted back into the house, terrified her parents were going to be awake, thankfully they weren’t, we were in the clear.
After we got back into her room, we started talking and decided we were going to try this again next week with a better plan. We trusted each other, so the next week we were at it again! This night was a little different, though. She had told her mom that her dog had been scratching the basement window while she was down there and that maybe they should keep the dog in the garage that night. I didn’t think this idea was going to work, but it did. Her mom went and put the dog up for the night. I couldn’t believe this was actually working. Besides the dog, everything was going exactly like it was the last time. This was it. Parents in bed; get ready, wait a little to make sure they were still asleep and out the back door we went.
It was humid and the grass was wet when we left. After we made it out of her front yard, with no dogs barking, there was no turning back. So we started walking, our friend’s house (which we were going to) was maybe ten minutes away once we got off her street and we were making good progress. As we were walking we saw this car slowing down. You know in movies when kids aren’t supposed to be doing something they usually end up dying? Well, this was going through my head. Next thing I know this car is stopped and getting out, I was terrified. We were good kids, other kids do this all the time and get back home safe and sound, but of course, my luck, I was about to die. I had no idea what to do so I got on the phone with my friend and she decided she was going to act like she was looking for her lost puppy. As this person got out of their car, they just looked at their front tire and then left. I’d never been so relieved in my life, I seriously thought we were going to get kidnapped. We made it to our friend’s house, had a terrible time, and did make it home safe and sound.
Maybe sneaking out wasn’t the best way to finally feel that feeling you get for really going behind your parents backs for once, but it’s what we did. It made me realize everything that people do my age isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be. Some things I just have to try anyway to learn my own lesson, to get that feeling every once in a while. Now, looking back at this and how embarrassing it is, I do know it changed how I choose my actions today. I hear stories and I should learn from others’ mistakes, but I can’t always learn from others. I make my own decisions and learn from my own mistakes, it just depends on if I want a big or little adventure that day.
Casey Marshall
Casey,
DeleteI really enjoyed reading your story! You didn't leave out any important details, which made it easy to read. Although I would like to know more about what lesson you learned from this and if this was enough of a scare to make you never want to "sneak out" again. Thanks!
-Samantha Roberts
Casey,
DeleteThe beginning of your blog is very good. You make me feel like i already know the story by your use of diction and imagery. but, the last few sentences is kindof confusing. maybe putting it in a new paragraph would help some.
-Makayla hawkins
I’m gonna talk about a change and a choice all leading to a challenge in my life. But I need to start wayyy back. Back in middle school. Basically when I was younger I was a butthead, I was rude to everyone. I didn’t notice it, I just always had a temper and a bone to pick with everyone. I was incredibly rude to all of my friends up until this year. I can talk about all of this now because I’ve been able to take a step back and see how I was acting and try to change it for the better. But Even last year I was picking on some of my own friends, who’ve been nothing but nice to me. Now I know, some of my friends are weird. But some of my friends are the kindest people you’ll sit down and talk to. If you’re willing to humor them and give them the attention and focus they need to show you that.
ReplyDeleteI would always pick on one friend in particular. His name is Quentin. He’s a big guy, incredibly random, and says some of the most offensive and strange jokes. But he’s my friend, and a good friend at that, and I wouldn’t change a thing about him. You see, I’ve never gotten along with guys at all, but Quentin is just such a goodhearted friend, you wouldn’t be able to help it but want be nice to him. But that wasn’t how I felt two years ago.
I would pick on him, call him names, instigate him try to make him mad. I bullied him, basically. I was an asshole. And through everything I said to him, he never once said anything back, never got openly angry, never lashed out at me. All he ever did, was be nice to me.
So last year, there’s a particular moment that just made something click for me, to look back at what I’m doing and actually see it as wrong, and not jokingly anymore. Quentin, a group of friends, and I were all talking and Quentin said another one of his far-fetched jokes we’ve never heard of. In response, I said
“You need to stop that dude, this is why you can’t get a girlfriend”
I deserved to get the daylight knocked out of my self-righteous ass. But he just turned around and walked away. I was told later that I had gone too far by a mutual friend, and I said I didn’t know what they were talking about. They told me what he had said to them, and how he was stressed out, crying, he felt no one wanted him around.
Well I felt like shit to say the least. I went to apologize to him later that day, and he explained to me how the stresses of his family life had brought him down, how he’s been feeling lost as of late. I felt horrible, I hated myself. I had to give the guy a hug and just say,
“I’m sorry”
It’s because he’s my friend there was a CHANGE in my life that gave me the CHOICE to be a better person, and the CHALLENGE every day to keep it up, to be more like Quentin. To be a better person.
Tyler Chapman
Tyler, this really touched my heart. I would have never pinned you as a person that would have bullied someone. Which should show you how much you have changed? therefore, I hope this encourages you, knowing that someone who doesn't know you particularly well, looks at you and sees a nice guy-not a bully.
DeleteOne suggestion, because we are supposed to include a suggestion, would be to tell us how you overcome your anger now whenever you feel like saying something mean to someone? That would really help me understand even more how you have changed.
Once again, Thank you for sharing this. Keep doing what you are doing.
Amber Booth
Tyler,
DeleteThis is a very interesting story to say the least, I would’ve never guessed that you be the one bullying someone. It makes me glad to know that you have changed you ways and become a better person that we all love. Also, I love that you told a personal story because it kept me interested and made me want to keep reading. However, one suggestion is to use better transition words. You use the word But and So an awful lot to continue your story or change ideas. Instead of using those words think of more complex transitions. Thank you for sharing this great story!
Lexie Richardson
I'm going to talk about a challenge I have been facing my whole life, my challenge has to do with my future. All thoughout my life I have been asked the same dreadfull question "what do you want to be when you grow up?" For some that question wasn't dreadful at all, they knew what they wanted to do. But I didn't and still don't sometimes I get idea's of what I want to be, but then I find reasons of why I shouldn't be in that profession. I keep telling myself to pick something that makes good money and doesn't require you to go to college half of your life, but then the other part of me tells me to do something that will make an impact on others as well as make me a better person, which would please me.
ReplyDeleteWhen I think of what I want to do for the REST of my life, it scares me not because it feels like I would be doing the same thing my whole life but because I also think of how it will please others. For example if I went home and told my parents I wanted to be an elementary school teacher my parents would ask me if I was crazy, they would then begin to give me a long lecture on how its not a stable job, and how the children these days are crazy and how most parents don't care anymore. The only reason I know what they would say is because one time I told them I wanted to be a teacher, and as you probably already assume that didn't go over well. My parents excuse for telling me that I shouldn't be a teacher or anything else I might consider is always the same and that is "we are only trying to protect you and help you" well unfortunately its not helping, only making it more confusing.
My challenge of picking a carreer may seem a little silly, but its something that I have been struggling with for a while now. Im hoping to figure out what career I will be attending college for.
And that bring me anothee challenge which relates to my challenge on deciding on a profession to go into, and that challenge is picking a college, many people have been asking me what college's I plan on applying for and I have a few in mind but at the same time I'm very unsure of why I had these colleges in mind. I feel that if I don't decide on a career I shouldn't be thinking about colleges, but college is only a year and half away. So I figure I need to attempt to face these two challenges head on, and figure out what what I'm going to do with my life.
~The confused blonde ( Taylor Gilbert)
Sorry about my spelling errors, and my last sentence should say " and figure out what I'm going to do with my life. "
DeleteTaylor,
DeleteMy problem is almost identical. Although I didn't include it, anytime I think of a profession to go into I'll tell someone and if I don't hear one negative thing from one person, I hear it from another. And being halfway through junior year I feel really unprepared and a little frightened. Although I'd be more than happy to go out and make my own living, it's a tad difficult when I don't know what I'm really after.
-Kendra Harris
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
ReplyDeleteI sit in my desk, my hands clenched into fists, sweat gathering on my palms. A student is finishing up a spectacular presentation, and I do not envy the person who has to follow it up. Even as I am thinking this and the rest of the class is clapping for the student, I hear the teacher call across the room, "Will, you're next." I freeze. I have a sick feeling in my stomach. My throat feels constricted; I don't know if I'll be able to talk. The teacher calls for me again, assuming that I hadn't heard my name the first time. "Will, it's your turn." With those words, my trance is broken. I slowly get to my feet and walk to the front of the classroom. Now the trembling begins. I hope that the rest of the class can't see my paper shaking in my hands. I look out at the other students, to see if they have noticed.
ReplyDeleteThat was a mistake.
Now I am flooded with a hundred worrisome thoughts. Are they judging me? What will they think of my presentation? They'll probably think that it's idiotic, stupid, boring, pointless. What if I mess up? Will they laugh at me? Or will they not even care? Is my presentation so boring that they won't even listen? Will I just end up putting them to sleep? All of these thoughts and more come into my head in a split second. But I know I have to give this presentation. It is for a grade, after all.
I begin speaking, but I'm mumbling, so the teacher interrupts me and curtly says, "Speak up." I stop, look at the teacher, and nod. I start again, louder, but now I'm rambling, talking faster and faster and I just want to get it over with so I can sit down and not feel like I'm being judged or like I'm doing a horrible job and that I'm boring and I can't think about anything but how I must sound so stupid and how I keep messing up and everything is just going wrong and I just really want it to be over... And then, as suddenly as it started, it was finished. I look back out at the class, and I hear nothing, I see no reactions. Does that mean that it was boring? It was horrible, wasn't it? It was idiotic, stupid, boring, and pointless. But then I hear clapping, and I let out the breath that I have been holding all this time without even realizing it. I walk back to my desk and sit down, glad that I'm finished.
But it's not over.
Now I start berating myself. Why was I so nervous? I should have talked more slowly, been more confident in myself. And why do I worry about whether or not people will judge me? I have no right to think that they will take time out of their lives to focus on my shortcomings or mistakes. Why would they care? I'm not that important to everyone. I shouldn't be so conceited, to think that people will pay attention to every move that I make and judge me for it. Then I hear someone tell me, "Good job." I thank them, but on the inside, I'm wondering why they felt the need to tell me that. Was my presentation really that bad? Do I give off this vibe, like I'm this wounded animal that needs to be cared for and consoled? I keep thinking these things over and over, until the bell rings. But when I leave the classroom, these thoughts follow me. They periodically come to the front of my mind throughout the day, and I can't seem to get rid of them...
Even now as I'm writing this blog post, I wonder what people will think of it. I don't know why I've always been so nervous in front of people, or why I worry about their opinions of me. Maybe it's because I am not very self-confident. Perhaps it's because I'm not good at opening up to others and sharing my own opinions, and that affects other aspects of my life. Either way, this is a challenge that I still face. I have gotten a little better about dealing with it, though. I think I'm finally starting to gain more confidence in myself and my abilities, and that has helped me tremendously.
Will Grasch
Well first off, that was amazing. I truly enjoyed reading your blog Will!
DeleteBefore 5th period pre-cal class this year, we weren't really "friends", but now I have gotten the chance to grow closer to you though laughter and you being angry that I am terrible at math and always need your help. (Thank you by the way for your constant help!) Getting back on topic, this really surprises me about you. You are super smart and I have always stereotyped "smart" people as good public speakers, weather they feel they are or not. I am always jealous of them because I never feel as smart as some of my peers and I have felt everything you listed in your blog numerous times! I empathize with you so much, which is why I wanted to comment on your blog- to let you know that you are not alone. we all get nervous talking in front of people and that we will be judged. So don't feel like you're alone, okay?
If there is one thing I could suggest- since we have to- it would be to explain a little more on how you try to "deal with it" now, rather than your past experiences from public speaking, so we could better understand on how this challenge has changed you.
Thank you for the post! Wonderful.
Amber Booth
Hey, Will!
DeleteI absolutely love your stream-of-consciousness approach. It puts the reader inside the moment that you're describing, and the detailed emotions and thoughts allow the reader to relate very easily to what you're talking about. All of us have felt this way at one time or another.
One suggestion I have--and this is more style-related, so you don't have to listen--is for you to be less, um, proper with your diction. I get the impression that you're holding back a little. For me, the natural thought when I feel like I messed up is "You stupid (expletive)." I think that you could make the reader feel more involved in the moment if you were slightly more frank and blunt about your thoughts to yourself.
Also, keep in mind in the future that (a) the vast majority of people (myself included) have qualms about presenting in front of others; (b) it doesn't matter that people judge you--they're going to judge you even if you don't mess up and nearly all of them will be history once you go to college or even finish whatever class you have with them; and (c) you're hands down one of the smartest, most articulate few kids in our grade and if you can't do something right, few people can. So just go for it!
I really enjoyed your post!
Andrew
Sitting at my computer desk wondering what story I am going to talk about or elaborate on. I can’t help but think about the time I made a mistake and fought tanner smith on the football practice field, and got the snot beat out of me. Looking back on it and how it affected me it annoyed me how he kept cheap shoting me ,and eventually I just lost it and slammed him, and he basically rolled over picked my helmet up and continuously slammed my head into the semi soft ground. I just laid there and in-between the constant pounding wondering what was I thinking I came to the realization that I liked the felling of slamming him and the since of accomplishment of slamming him the outcome wasn’t what I perceived but yet the one that happened.
ReplyDeleteSo I guess what I am saying is I learned not to let people annoy and I actually stood up for myself. It’s weird though he hated me before he beat me but afterwards he like me more because I actually made him stop. He knew he could rely on me and he told me afterwards he trusted me and that he could rely on me to help protect the team.
How this event has affected me it really hasn’t at the time I thought I just let my temper get the better of me and how I was just a stupid kid trying to win a fight with tanner smith. Looking back I’m like okay wow that actually happened and it’s transferred from the football field to everyday life to how I don’t let people hurt friends or family. I always think of it like a semi wolf pack mentality and how its mess with someone I care about, you mess with me also.
Robbie Olson
I really like how this story helped me understand a little more about you. A lot makes sense now. Especially the fact that you're pretty protective of others.
DeleteIt might help to use some punctuation, though. Your sentences ran together, making a few spots difficult to understand.
~Shelby McKinney
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
ReplyDeletePart 2
ReplyDeleteWe got in the car, ready to begin our frightening journey to the hospital. I couldn’t stop crying, I was so scared and wasn’t sure what was going to happen. I sat in my seat with an ice pack wrapped in a blue washcloth. The bleeding had slowed down but my whole face throbbing. It felt like it had a heartbeat of its own. I looked at my cousin beside me. She was staring; her confused expression still had not changed. I thought about how she must’ve been wondering why her “puppy”, a 100lb adult Siberian husky, had made me cry. I could hear my Aunt on the phone with my mom, telling her what had just happened in the surprisingly past ten minutes. It all happened so fast.
The waiting room was terrifying with no color and not very many people. By that time I had stopped crying, but I couldn’t say anything, the only noise coming out of me was my uncontrollable snubbing. People starred at me as they walked by, but I didn’t care. My mouth felt as though it was going to fall off. I still didn’t understand why this had to of happen. I just wanted to go make Christmas candy. Most of all I wanted my mom to be there with me.
After what felt like hours, my name was called. I went into the room to find that there was no old lady waiting with pointy knitting needles but a nice nurse who had a warm reassuring smile on her face. She told me that it felt worse than how bad it actually was and that I only needed three stiches. I held my Aunts hand and whimpered every time I felt the needle go through one side of my flesh and back out the other. Ouch!
When the quick torture was over, I looked in the mirror and there was a black lump on the corner of my upper lip. I was thankful the bleeding had stopped and the throbbing had gone away but now I was concerned about how embarrassing it was going to be to walk in class on Monday which was the next day. I was afraid all the other kids were going to make fun of me or think it was gross. Third graders can be harsh sometimes.
On Monday morning I cried and begged my mom to let me stay home. I couldn’t face my class because I looked so weird. My mom walked me to class that day and explained to my teacher the eventful weekend we had just experienced. My teacher understood and told me I could share my story with the whole class.
At first I was nervous, and then I saw their intrigued faces. No one else in my class had as an exciting weekend as I did or had ever gotten stitches before, so it was cool to be the first one. The kids didn’t make fun of me or get grossed out, they thought my stitches were awesome and said it looked like I had a mini mustache. Everyone asked me all kinds of questions and told me how brave I was. I felt like a celebrity. I had worried for nothing.
This was a challenge in my life I’ve had to overcome. Even though I overcame the events of that day and going to school the next day, I was left with the fear that every dog would bite my face off and an ugly scar on my lip. As I’ve grown older and am now sixteen, I am no longer scared of dogs but would much rather not be around them, I prefer cats. As for my scar, its barely noticeable and most of the time I don’t pay any attention to it. I feel like my story is proof that challenges can be overcame.
Hannah Smith
We all have faced, or still face challenges in our lives. Some, we have chosen to take on and due to taking that risk, it becomes an inconvenient issue for us. Some of the decisions we have made turn out messy, and regretful. And if you said you have never made a decision that you regret, I'd say you were lying. For me, the biggest challenge I have faced is making the choice to drink before the schools Glo Dance this year. Now I'm sure most of my classmates have heard about this incident, but for those of you who have been living under a rock, I will explain to you what happened that night.
ReplyDeleteBefore I start, I must tell you how queasy it makes me feel just telling this story... But I must. I was getting ready with my best friend for the dance that day. We were so excited for this dance because after all, it is the best dance of the entire year. When our other friend got to my house, we left to go eat. Before arriving to the restaurant, we picked up two of our other friends who are sophomores. We got to Applebee's, all five of us, and we were having a great time. We were laughing and smiling, yet little did we know this night would end in tears. When the food got to the table, someone had mentioned "pre-gaming", meaning drinking before the dance, ya' know "to have a better time..." We were all extremely nervous about it, but of course we all agreed that was what we would do. We arrived to the school, parking in the student section, but not getting too close to the school. We had begun drinking... some of us got in more drinks than others, but drinking is drinking. It wouldn't matter if we took one sip, or twenty. All of a sudden we look up and here comes our school officer along with his partner for that night. He yelled "c'mon girls. Let's get a move on." I believe at this point he either had no idea what we were doing, or he did from someone who ratted us out. We quickly sat all the drinks down in the car, except for one who girl who decided to throw the alcohol out of the car, right in front of the Officers. Long story short, all five of us got suspension for three days, which was a reasonable punishment.
Telling my mother and step-father the news was the hardest thing I have ever had to tell them before... I remember crying so hard, that they couldn't even understand what I was saying at first. After an extremely long lecture from my parents, I went to bed, but don't let me fool you, I got zero sleep that night. There was talk of getting charges pressed against us, which made all of this ten times worse. Thank goodness, the charges never happened. Even though to me, I might have gotten away easily, with only three days of suspension (because I could have had gone to court over this), I will always live with the shame, and embarrassment for the rest of my life. I let not only myself down, but my friends and family as well...
It is safe to say I learned a very valuable lesson from all of this mess. Maybe it was better for something like this to happen now than later, where I could have been drinking plus driving. It is up to us to let the mistakes we make define us, or grow from it. I have finally stopped beating myself up over this so much. But I still tell myself how stupid it was of me to do this. Although I was not alone in making this awful choice, I could have been the one to say no this is a bad idea and I will not participate in it. I regret making the choice to drink in the school parking lot before the dance, every day. But I learned from this and I know to never make this mistake, or any other mistake relevant to this one, again.
-Samantha Roberts
Cheer has been a big part of my life since I was a little girl. From the time that I can remember I have always said "I want to be a UK cheerleader, they are the best of the best." I have over come so many challenges, and made a lot of choices in order to be where I am today with my goal of being a UK cheerleader. My biggest challenge that I have come across is all the problems I have had with my knee. Of course this will be one challenge that I will have to face for the rest of life sadly, but I have learned how to stretch it properly and also I go to therapy and from there I get certain exercises that also helps with my knee problems. Last year when I hurt my knee I was doing a hand, hand full and landed on it wrong after my full. After that fall I was so scared to throw my full again, but then I thought if I don’t throw this full I will never be able to reach my goal/dream of being a UK cheerleader. After telling myself over and over that I could do it I finally did it, this made me realize even though I hurt my knee once on a tumbling pass dose not mean to be afraid of it, it actually made me want to work harder so that I could have a perfect, and clean landing. Another challenge I have had to over come is learning how to coed stunt. I have always been on an all girl team so I never got to coed stunt because we never had any guys. Of course I have always been a flyer but with all girl you have three and maybe four people under you but with coed you have one guy under you and that is it. Me and my mom sat down one night and called up the UK cheer coach and asked if any cheerleaders were willing to give me lessons and he said that they would love to. My first lesson I was so scared but my coach, Matej, told me not to worry he wouldn’t drop me, and he would be there to help me every step of the way. Come to find out when I finally over came the challenge of coed stunting it made me realize that I am actually better with coed stunting then all girl . A lot of people say that coed stunting is harder than all girl and yes I agree with that but for some reason coed came very easily to me which will be great for cheering at UK. Along with my challenges I have had to make a some choices. One of my biggest choices I have had to make was to quit all-star cheer and spend more time training with the UK cheerleaders or keep cheering for an all-star squad and don’t go up to UK as much. I decided that it would be better for me to quit cheering for an all-star team and go train with the UK cheerleaders more than I did. I am very happy with this choice that I made, at the time it was very hard for me but now that time has past I have realized it was so much better for me to train more with the UK cheerleaders in the long run. Now that I have been training with the cheerleaders the coaches have got to know me and know my talent level, they are always impressed with my hard work and determination. If I were to stick with all-star cheering I would not have got the chance to get so close to the coaches and cheerleaders. They are always telling me if I keep up my hard work I will be able to reach my dream of being a UK cheerleader and that’s exactly what I wanted to hear. Another choice I made was having to give up a lot of my free time. I enjoy hanging out with my friends and I still get to it's just not as much time as I used to spend with them. When people would ask me to hang out and I had to say no because I had training I would sometimes wish that I wouldn’t have started training with UK cheerleaders, but then I started to think and there are thousands of cheerleaders out there that would kill for a spot of the UK cheer squad and if I just stopped my training then that is giving them a chance to be better for me and possibly take my future spot. With every challenge and choice that I have came across it has made me a better cheerleader and even a better person all around. I have learned to never let a challenge or choice come in between me and my dream of being a UK cheerleader.
ReplyDelete**Miranda Gunn
Little Mir Mir
DeleteI enjoyed reading your post because I know how hard you work to reach your goals. I also know how hard it was for you to quit all star cheer- but know that all of your friends and family are here to support you all the way!
As a suggestion to your post, Instead of making it all one lengthy post, you should organize it. Put it into paragraphs. This will make it easier and more clean for the readers to read.
Keep working hard on your cheerleading- you got it!!
Torey Hawkins :-)
Part 1
ReplyDeleteIm orignally from california thats where my family and friends live . But one day my mom got a call from my cousin cutia saying that my uncle max was about to sale my great grandmothers property to kentucky state university, and that we should try to come down to kentucky to take care of the property to keep it in the family. at the moment my mom didnt want to but for some reason i tried to convince her to move down here so she thought about it for a day or two, then she told me that we were moving to kentucky i was excited because it was somthing new and i have never been. My last day in california was probably the one of the most sadest days of my life .
Quanesha clay
Do you still miss living in California? Also would you move back if you had option??
DeleteI like your story but you left a lot out. How did this affect you? Do you enjoy living here? You need to include your thoughts and feelings about living here!
DeleteEvan Montgomery
Softball is not just a sport to me, it is something I have a desire to do throughout my college career. My entire life I have either played shortstop or catcher, well one day my coach decides he wants to switch me to second base, which isnt much of a difference than shortstop, but it is still different and was very uncomfortable for me at first and still is to this day. I've never been the type of person to say anything back to my coach or question them about anything they are doing for me, I just simply go with it. I remember this day so well, it was summer ball and he says "Hey Mackenzee, we really need you to play second while one of our pitchers is not pitching so she can play shortstop."
ReplyDeleteMe being the willing person I am, I start to practice there that day just like he had asked. As practice goes on I start to get more and more frustrated with myself and somewhat at my coaches because I was not sure what to do on some plays. I am the type of person that beats myself up when I am not doing something right....well only on the softball field. So I start to tear up and completely give up on that spot and myself but no one really starts to see it just yet becasue I am not showing it to the team or coaches, just myself. Over the past year an half I have practiced at second and improved a lot but it is still not a comfort zone to me. Shortstop is the spot I have a desire to play and improve at, but once again I do as my coach ask and I have played there all fall ball this past fall.
Also another challenge I have overcome would be how I beat myself up so much or how bad I drop my head. I did that up until about sophomore year. I realized that dropping your head all because you made a mistake will not do anything for you but make you make another error/mistake. Last year seaon I completely shut down after I knew someone else had the spot I wanted and I completely regret it. That is why now, I work hard at whatever spot I am put at, becasue either way I am going to do my best I can to achieve my goal. Nothing and no one will stand in my way now, all because I've learned from the mistake of giving up and having to live with that regret for a whole year.
Mackenzee Sawyer
Over my life I have had many challenges to overcome, some were harder than others. The hardest to overcome bring out the best outcomes. The hardest challenge I’ve had to overcome was the loss of my dad on October 10, 2010. He fought with melanoma skin cancer for two year. After some time, I came to the realization that he was no more.
ReplyDeleteI then found myself connected to computers, as an escape, I immersed myself in technology and found out I was passionate in it, the hardware, software, all of it. It all grew to consume my entire life. Then freshman year rolled around, we got our first schedules to fill out I tried my best to fit in all the technology classes I can. I got into the Web design and A+ hardware class over at Franklin County CTC, I loved it. I came out top of the class, I was able to take apart a computer find the problem and reassemble the computer in little to no time. That year was the time of my life.
Sophomore year was awful! No matter how I looked at my schedule I couldn’t find any holes to fit in a technology based course. Over that time my skills started to dull; till the summer of junior year. Then I had gotten an apprenticeship, well basically a job, at a computer store. I was working twelve hours a day four days a week; my boss couldn’t keep me out of the store. I enjoyed every minute in the store fixing and creating amazing computers out of mere insufficient parts.
So from my escape into my passion I found a career, a life style, a choice. From my challenge to making my choice, of finding my passion to computers I have achieved more now than I would have ever before perceived.
-Conner Nelson
Your post was very heart touching, Conner. My Uncle, who I am close to, has the similar type of cancer, and I understand the struggle of having to deal with it.
DeleteAs a suggestion, I think you should talk some more about the relationship between you an your dad. That will most definitely make your writing more emotional for the reader, and in turn make it more effective.
It is beyond awesome that you took something so traumatic and used it as motivation of success. I know your dad would be extremely proud.
Torey Hawkins
Wow Conner it helps us understand a lot about you and I agree with Torey it may be beneficial for your reader to explain how strong you and your dad relationship is
DeleteOther then that one suggestion good post thanks for sharing
Robbie "peg leg" Olson
I've faced a lot of very difficult changes and challenges these past two years. Obviously everyone has challenges and what not that they face. I understand that. Im not really sure where I'm gonna go with this but I'll just start talking about some changes and stuff.
ReplyDeleteMy freshman year and beginning of my sophomore year were awesome! I had so many amazing friends. My best friend and I were closer than we had ever been. This girl had been with me through thick and thin ever since we were in like 1st grade. I mean we went to Kings Island every year, went to Florida together, spent every waking moment together... Until later on my sophomore year. She started dating this guy who is still her current boyfriend. I was super happy for her because I mean you could just tell how much she liked this guy. As the days started to pass I started to see her a little bit less. Suddenly, we weren't hanging out much anymore. I didn't see her on weekends, we didn't see each other at all over Christmas break which we usually spent every day of together. I even stopped getting Christmas presents from her. She would text me every single morning before school. And then the texts just stopped. I kept lying to myself thinking "we're still close, she's still my best friend" but that wasn't the case...
I was so heartbroken to think that I lost my best friend. And what made things even worse was the fact that I didn't really have anybody else except her. I had spent every day with her and never made time for any of my other friends. I was alone. I was so confused why this was happening to me. I didn't understand. She was like, my person and then she was just gone.
The second half of the year came around and I started spending time with a lot more new people. I made a lot of new friends and got closer to friends that I already had. I didn't think losing my best friend was the worst thing anymore. One door closed, another opened. And now this year just sucks because the people that I was close to last year, I never see anymore. They either moved or graduated or are going to move or we just don't have any classes together anymore. My old friend and I still see each other from time to time and talk every once in a while, but it's not the same. I don't think it'll ever be the same.
It's really hard to adjust when changes like this happen. When I started typing this, I was just going to wing it and talk about random stuff, and the more I typed, the more I started talking about my old best friend. I have a few amazing friends in my life right now and I hope they read this and know how much they mean to me. I didn't ask or expect things to turn out this way, but we can't always control the changes or challenge that we face, but know something good will come out of this.
Hannah Hyatt
Hannah
DeleteI really like this because I can relate to losing a best friend and I’m sure many others can relate too! Keep your head up because things will get better with new and old friends.
Something you could work on is maybe cutting the second paragraph into two different paragraphs instead of one long one about the past and what happened after you all starting drifting. Also the first paragraph needs a better hook to catch the reader, it made me feel like you had no idea what you were doing and the paper was going to be a mess. The last paragraph was very good though.
Casey Marshall
"I wish you were eighteen, so that I wouldn't need to look at you anymore." My mother said on my fifth birthday.
ReplyDelete"You will never amount to anything." My mother said, when I was six.
"Why would anyone love an ugly little thing like you?" My mother said, when I was seven.
"If only your father hadn't stopped me from getting that abortion. I never wanted you. No one would want you." My mother said, when I was eleven.
"Get out. I never want to see your face in this house again." My mother said, near the end of eighth grade.
A lot of kids are pretty lucky. They've got two loving parents. Two parents who, whether they're together or apart, would do anything to keep their child safe and happy. Two parents who would never dream of hurting their child, physically or mentally.
I'm one of the unlucky ones. My parents divorced when I was too young to remember them every being together, and my mom won custody over my big sister and I. There was never any question that my sister was always the favorite. She got whatever she wanted, and she never got in trouble for anything.
My mother had a lot of anger inside of her. She got mad about everything. And all of that anger got taken out on me. On rare occassions, she would get violent. But most of the time, she simply stuck with mental/emotional abuse.
I'm sure that, to someone who didn't have to deal with it day after day, this doesn't sound so bad. I mean, all she was doing was yelling at me, right? Spewing insults and what not. What you don't understand, is that all of those insults were made to tear me down. And after putting up with them every day for twelve years, they left me as nothing more than a shell of myself. No self esteem, no selfworth. I got to the point where I didn't even want to keep living anymore.
When I lived with my mom, I did everything I could to find an escape from her tyranny. I would lock myself in my room or sneak out whenever I knew she was angry. I took every chance I could to go to a friend's house, sometimes bouncing between friends for a couple of weeks at a time. But none of it helped.
During my middle school years, when all of her insults hit me the hardest, I went through a very deep period of depression. One that I still haven't recovered from. I pushed everyone away from me and stopped doing the things that I loved, because I no longer cared about anything. I left my room on rare occassions, and stopped eating. Suicide was definitely something I considered, on a daily basis.
I don't think I would be alive today if she hadn't decided that she didn't want anything to do with me. On April 22, near the end of my eighth grade year, my mom kicked me out. The things that were said to me that day were so bad that I can't even think about them without nearly breaking down, let alone type them.
My dad came to get me, and I am currently living with him. He and my step mom have done everything they can to make me feel as if I finally have a home, but the things my mom did to me still follow me around today. I feel her influence everywhere; in my distrust of the people around me, in the way that I expect the worst out of everyone, the way that I hate everything about myself, the way that I hesitate to open up to anyone, and so much more.
That is the challenge that I face every day. Having to live with the aftermath, faking smiles and forcing laughs, pretending like everything is okay. But it's not. Nothing is okay. Because of her, every day is a struggle.
~Shelby McKinney
DeleteI know I’ve already got my two comments for critiquing others blog posts, but wanted to tell you that I just love your writing. Every time Ms. Hills gives us prompt, yours is always the first blog post I look for. I can never wait to read what you’ve posted. I hope you don’t think that’s weird haha. I find your writing expiring and I kind of use yours as an example to show myself how an awesome post should look like. I really liked this one in particular. It was outstanding! You’re writing of course, not what it’s about. We just really know each other through English class so I can only assume you’re a pretty quiet person. In your writing though, I could never tell. Your so open and personal, your really do an amazing job. Keep up the good work!
DeleteHannah Smith
I would say that I'm sorry for you, but when you think of it, those series of unfortunate events have helped to make you that wonderful, fun to talk to person that we all like so much. Now, I'm not saying that that was right, I'm just saying that it seems to me that everything that we go through makes us stronger. That is why you are as strong willed and hard working as you are... And yes, I am sorry for that, you didn't deserve that.
Delete-Donovan Billings
Shelby, I just want to tell you that I respect you so much, I love that you opened up in your blog and told us about your struggle. Reading your blog post helps me get to know you better as a person, after I read your blog post I immediately thought to myself about how strong of a woman you are! It takes an extreme amount of courage to tell any struggle you deal with on a daily basis. Your mom may not know the real strong and respectful woman you are, but I can see that, and all I have to say is that your mother is missing out, and that's her bad CHOICE. I loved reading your blog post, it has inspired me to take a second and listen better to other's because we can't always see what someone is going through on the outside, but if we listen and take enough time to get to know someone they may share a something that could change someone else's life.
DeleteI enjoyed reading your post!!! Thank you for sharing this!!
-Taylor Gilbert (:
Shelby
DeleteYou are so brave for coming out and writing about this… If I were in your situation, I would have never had the guts to write what you did.
Shelby, your posts always touch me on so many levels! I love reading them. I'm so sorry for whatever had happened with your mom. I feel neglected by my father everyday, but not physically or emotionally abused by him. You're so much stronger than that girl you are posting about. I've only talked to you a select few amount of times, but you've always touched me in many different ways! Stay strong okay? We are all here for you!
DeleteEvan Montgomery
Hey Shelby!
DeleteFirst, your posts never cease to amaze me. I can honestly say I was anxious to see what you were going to write for this post after your post on "Why Should I Care?" Sadly, I can relate to your situation. My dad and I have never really had a relationship. He emotionally abused me like your mom has done to you. Both of us must remember that all of those events are apart of our past. We are both better than that and deserve better. I hope you know that even though we don't really talk, I am always here for you. Always remember you are beautiful :)
-Hannah Tice
It was a cold winter evening, 5:40 PM 0n Wednesday, October 26th 2011, when I arrived the United States of America, Lexington, Kentucky to be specific from Yaoundé Cameroon, Africa. I was in form five, which is freshmen year in America. I didn’t start that academic year, because I was soon leaving for the U.S. I went to a bordering school; an average student, didn’t care about so much. Two days before I had to leave for the U.S., I went about my city, saying farewell to all my family and love ones; it was very hard, I couldn’t control my eyes from oozing out as a waterfall. We had already given our house away and almost all of our belongings; spending the last two days at my aunt’s place. The next day we had to pack all what we were leaving with. Almost all of my family member traveled in, to see my mom and I off the next night. It didn’t hit me yet that I was leaving the place and the people I had known all my life, for one I had no imagination of, which was a scary feeling.
ReplyDeleteThe day and time had come for my mom and I to go catch I flight, we said our prayers and drove to the airport. Everyone was there, that was my last time of seeing my whole family. I kept trying to say something to each of them, for the last time, face-to-face, but I was speechless and trying not to cry a lot. My mom and I gave our last hugs and kisses, waving and going to get checked and board the plane. That was my first time on a plane, which was a scary feeling. When we reached, we were picked up at the airport by my mom’s friend, which we lived with for a little. It was so different; the time difference of 5 hours backwards from what I was used to, which made it hard for me to take naps. The food too was new to me, but I ventured everyone I came across. I spoke both English and French as official languages back home, but what I heard was unlike like that. It took me some time to be able to understand and calculate the money currency.
On October 31st 2011, was when I first experienced the “American system” of school, I knew it was going to be as hard as a rock, since I was a shy and quiet person and I didn’t know anyone. New World, New School. It was unusual; as the students had to move from class to class, while I was use to the teacher moving from class to class while the students say put in one class, and also because different grades could take the same classes. I made 5 friends on my first day in school, which was impressive. My name was and still is so hard for people to pronounce. The day was so long and I keep having migraines the first few weeks.
It was a big change for me and my mom too, but we keep learning something new every day. I have made and still making a lot of friends now and adapted, but not fully to the climate. Even though I miss my family and hope to see them soon, I don’t regret the change I made; but hope to dare greatly and get out of my comfort zone more.
Nerisia Ngum (^,^)
Nerisia, what can I say? Wow...
DeleteI cannot ever imagine the change you went through, you have no idea how brave you are and I am so thankful to be able to call you my new friend- thanks to Mrs. Tope's new seating arrangement in Chemistry! I love hearing your story and I know you will go far in America. I am so thankful you made the move to America, because now I can say you and I are friends, and if you never moved I wouldn't be able to say that. Thank you so much for sharing your story! I would love to hear more details and hear how you feel like you have changed each year since you have moved here.
Amber Booth :)
Most people have someone they call their best friend. Someone they tell everything to, they do everything with, those two people who always seem to come as a pair. My best friend just happened to move twelve hours away in between eighth grade and freshman year, right before the big transition to high school. The change comes from Bethany moving, but the challenge lies in the sudden realization that the people that I hung out with weren’t really my friends. They were Bethany’s. Most kids drift apart from the people that they once called their best friend, not have them suddenly yanked from your grip and deposited miles away, leaving you feeling lost. That feeling where you know you have friends, but you feel very alone.
ReplyDeleteFreshman year I felt like the people that were my “friends” held that title simply because we had been in the same group of people for what seemed like forever. Like it was an obligation, honestly, I never knew if they would be there for me when it counted the most. I’m not saying that these people didn’t care about me or that we didn’t get along, it just felt like they were more of acquaintances than friends. I felt like I was second best to everyone, there was always someone that they would pick over me when it came down to it. But how could I let that upset me when I would always choose Bethany?
Sometimes it is when you feel you’re at lowest, you realize who is there to help you back up. At some point, I came to realize that while I was feeling alone with no one to talk to, I was overlooking the people who were always there for me. Maybe the reason I felt like no one was there to listen, was because I wasn't talking about it. I had felt like no one understood, but when faced with reality, I’m not the first kid to feel so lost without their “other half” nor will I be the last. Sometimes, when describing my social life as a freshman, I say that I had no friends, when in fact I had lots of them that really cared. I just wasn't looking in the right places.
Courtney Woodyard
Hmm... Lets see, what to write about. Well the most important choice I can think of is what to put on my sandwich so a choice is out of the question. I would have to say a big change in my life was moving to Frankfort. I am originally from Frankfort but moved to Mt. Sterling as I was starting school and lived there until I got to middle school. (Mt. Sterling is in northern Kentucky by the way.)
ReplyDeleteThe main two reasons for the move were because of my parent's jobs and the fact most of our family/ relatives live in or near Frankfort. I visit my closer relatives often so the move made it much easier on travel.
One big reason I see this change as something so great is because I literally would not be where I'm at now. To start off I want to say that I absolutely f***ing hated the middle school up there. I will not give the school's name for I feel it is not worth the time to read. Half the people there I couldn't stand and the stricter rules drove me 37 shades of crazy. Elementary school was fine and I would assume the high school would have similar to the middle school. If I had not moved I would have probably skipped school or something. Now that I have gotten the worst out of the way I wont be so aggressive. :)
Most importantly moving lead me to meet new people. I can get along with the majority of you which is much better than it used to be for me. The move basically gave me an opportunity to start over again, new school new people, you know all that stuff. Some of the new people I have met changed my life, they have made it funnier; full of laughs, fun, and offensive jokes.
I know people say Frankfort has so many problems but hey, nothings perfect. Frankfort to me seems better than where I used to live, the only notable thing I remember up there is a Quiznos, OMA GAWD I LOVED QUIZNOS! You're probably thinking "Oh well Frankfort doesn't have a lot of things either." Well last time I went to Mt. Sterling there was significantly less than Frankfort. Besides restaurants I remember theres a Wal-Mart, Kroger, Big Lots, and a theatre. At the very least I can going fishing here, theres no place to up there thats not private property. I'm not saying its a horrible town but I personally did not care for it much. The change greatly altered my life in a variety of ways and if not for the move I wouldn't be the same person.
- Cameron Bunyea, head of the PPNTOO, Preservation of the Pacific Northwestern Tree Octopus Organization
The natural enemy of the tree octopi are Sasquatch so please help to reduce the Sasquatch population.
To learn more please visit the website below:
http://zapatopi.net/treeoctopus/
I remember simpler times back in elementary school when everybody got along and nobody judged or bullied anybody. There were no “popular” kids or nerdy ones. We were just simple innocent kids. I don't know what happened, but as we got older everything started to change. What was once barren land became the tallest of mountains and deepest of seas (my metaphorical social ladder). The popular kids inhabited the mountains and took over the land, but it was twisted. When did we decide that to be popular we had to hurt others? It is just stupid to think that way. I was stupid to think that way. I don't know what it was but I love the mountains and the people that inhabited it. I loved to be accepted and it is what I thought was most important. Isn't that what every parent wants for their kids?
ReplyDeleteAt our school, they taught us that it was good to be different. Maybe we thought that at one time, but everybody has their own limits on what's too different. For us 8 year olds, too different was a kid named Sam (Sam represents all the people we bullied). Sam probably wanted to fit in just like everybody else, but he was too nice and too smart and exceeded the limits of what our 3rd grade brains thought of as different. He was bullied for it. With words we brought him down. We took apart the foundation underneath his feet, stone by stone, word by word, until he fell. What did we do? What did I do? I watched him fall into the sea, preventing him from ever climbing up our mountain. I watched as the rest of my classmates climbed even higher up the mountains. I, somewhere in the middle, do not want to climb any higher; but I do anyway. I have to fit in.
When middle school came, everything changed. I felt distant from everyone. The classmates I grew up with all my life suddenly seemed different. Confused and lost, I was not sure what to do. It isn't until the sound of my name that I am filled with hope that someone will fill me in on what I missed over the summer. What l thought would be words of reassurance and guidance instead were words of offense, insult, and hate. The words were like a knife, stabbing me in the back. I couldn't breathe. I didn't slip, I was pushed. I was now falling faster than ever before. I was frantically trying to grab hold of anything that could keep me from falling into the sea. I could see my metaphorical mountain disappearing as I got closer to the ground. Until—darkness. No way out.
My name is called. I brace myself for even more hateful words, but it turned out to be the teacher asking me to tell the class about my summer. I stand up but my knees are weak. I start to shake and I can't stop myself, I have no control. I start to speak but my voice shakes just like my knees. My voice is quiet. I feel the eyes of everybody in the class on me, judging me. I start to sweat; I hear my classmates’ voices in my head turning any positive thoughts negative. The thoughts are like poison slowly killing me on the inside. I die a little. I put on a mask and promised myself never to take it off. One must not speak, one must not bring attention to themselves, one must never laugh, smile, or show true emotion. Emotion is what they feed on and I must not give them the satisfaction.
The sea is a dark and cold place. My so called "friends" became the people I disliked the most. My friends were dwellers of the sea and my best friend was Sam. My friends have taught me to never look down on someone, unless you were picking them up. I know deep inside that what they say about me doesn't matter. I am different. Different is good, but also bad. I am myself and that's what scares them, but that's also what scares me. The sea is where I live now, I have learned to love the silence, I have learned to love the cold, but most importantly I have learned to love the land and the sea and the creatures that dwell within them.
Tariq Onodu
Not having a coach is not something every athlete has to go through. Sure everyone has gone a short period without a coach because they had to get a new one or whatever the problem is. Yes the girls soccer team went almost all summer conditioning with no coach on their own, but what if that would have gone all season? Yes they would have found someone to stand in but that person would not have known much about the game.
ReplyDeleteSo not having a coach for something as difficult as pole vaulting is definitely something that I struggle with not only at practice but more importantly at meets. Pole vaulting is a lot more difficult that it looks, and not having someone to watch you and tell the things that you are doing makes it very hard to make improvements. When I first learned how to vault I was taught by another pole vaulter who was also a beginner. After my first year of vaulting was over I realized pole vaulting was something that I really wanted to do and stick with, my mom looked online and talked to other vaulter parents to find someone, anyone to help me.
After searching she found one place “Fuzion athletics” in Louisville. So I started going there almost a year ago. I still go once a week, an hour long drive to have a 2 hour long practice in Louisville with other vaulters across Kentucky. Not having a coach to having a coach once a week is okay with me.. well at times the times where a coach is needed most is the time that I don’t have one which is at meets. When I first stated I did the same as everyone else, barley clearing the opening height and looking like a complete mess, but I guess you can say I have come a long way because I have gone to state (the year that we won!), I have won meets, and most recently beat the school record! I am very proud of what I have accomplished especially with the circumstances that I am in. and I still have two years to go. Annie Cunningham
Annie
DeleteI know you work very hard with your pole vaulting skills, congrats on everything you’ve accomplished!
Something you could work on in your writing is splitting this up into different paragraphs. It would make it so much easier to read!
Casey Marshall
Part 1
ReplyDeleteSpring Western Hills Softball Season 2013:
I wake up more motivated than any Western Hills ball player, eager and anxious to condition and practice with the team as well as individually. I can’t be stopped. I fight for a varsity spot to play second base and bat in the top of the line-up as a sophomore; and I earned it. Some of my teammates became frustrated because I would constantly go at it trying to improve and pass them up. They questioned why I did it and how; but when I, #3, stepped on that dirt with my cleats on, I showed everyone what I am made of and that hard work truly does pay off. My confidence level was soaring and I don’t think there was anything I couldn’t do. Actually, I know there wasn’t. Being one of the leaders on the team, I was having the time of my life with my team. Everything is great and dandy when you’re on top of the world and all you know is success…
Fall Louisville Stunners Elite Softball Season 2013:
All of my Wolverine teammates still play 14U but because my birthday falls 3 days before the New Year, I am required to move up and play with bigger and better athletes. Due to the lack of 18U teams nearby, I decided to try out for Derby City Crush, Louisville Lady Sluggers, and the Louisville Stunners Elite. Boosting my confidence, I made two out of the three and decided to go with the Louisville Stunners Elite.
First weekend: Columbus, Ohio
Second Weekend: St. Louis, Missouri
Third Weekend: Chattanooga, Tennessee
Entirely new to this environment, coaching, speed of the game, teammates, and level of skill, I am beyond overwhelmed. These girls are better than me; too good for me. I walk up to the plate with nearly zero confidence considering I am batting in the ninth hole and struggling to get a hit while literally hundreds (nearly thousands) of college coaches are looking for players to recruit. Post-game conversation with my parents involves a lot of upset, yelling, frustration, disappointment, and discouragement. But I can see it in their eyes when they decide to bite their lip and fight back the words they want to say but know they shouldn’t, which is even worse. Tears build up and adrenaline begins to rush, but it seems like each time I step onto the field once again, things only get worse. Opposed to High School season, I entirely lack self-assurance and feel like I have hit rock bottom. Is there anything lower than rock bottom?
-Destiny Hyatt
Part 2
ReplyDeleteNow, one fall break day I am sitting at home contemplating how I am going to bounce back or better yet, if I will even be able to. My brother walks in with one of his friends and we start talking about CrossFit (something I had never heard of in my life) and how I should join. Willing to do anything to get better and improve my happiness, I go for it without any hesitation. Day 1 killed me, along with day 2, day 3, day 4; but I kept going back for more. I’m not sure if it was the generous people, unique and intense workouts, or the fact that it was just fun, but there was something about it that I began to fall in love with. This love has grown over time where my trainers, Ann and Andrew, literally have to make me leave sometimes and the people in my class consider me their family.
This brings me to today.
I just got home from CrossFit, now I’m writing about CrossFit, I will probably dream about CrossFit, and all I will think about when I’m not there is CrossFit. I think it’s becoming an addiction. With this being said, softball has been my dream, passion, all of the above, ever since I was just a young girl. Could I be losing this love? Could this passion be kicked out of my heart with something new? The stress of these thoughts is written all over my face with worry and concern about my future; and people can see it. Softball has brought me some of the most difficult and strenuous moments in my life but, when asked (by my father) why I still put myself through it, the answer is inevitable: When it’s going good, it’s the single best feeling one could ever feel.
BUT what about my growing devotion for CrossFit and my new goal to compete in the CrossFit Games when I am older?
These thoughts, concerns, questions, doubts, constantly cycle through my mind. No matter where I am or what I am doing, it seems as though there is a battle within my heart and mind between my first love and my most recent love.
I suppose the next step will require choice, possibly the most important choice of my life, and I’m afraid my weakness of decision-making will cause me to regret whatever it is that I decide. CrossFit or Softball? Is there a way to compromise? I don’t know if I will ever be able to decide, but I’m running out of time.
-Destiny Hyatt
Destiny,
DeleteThis is such an inspiring and interesting challenge you face! As one of your classmates and friend, I know this is all you talk about. And when you say CrossFit is becoming an obsession for you, let me tell you, that ship has already sailed! I would say you are beyond obsessed with it, but what a healthy obsession to have! It shows how dedicated of a person you are, and how you are doing everything you can to get your confidence back, and to even get an extremely fit body. Since we have to include one suggestion, I guess I will make my suggestion more of advice. I say it's okay to have two loves. Just remember softball has always been there for you and it was your first love. Crossfit is new to you and exciting, I don't blame you for paying more attention to this now. But with that being said, without softball, maybe you would never really had the motivation to join CrossFit. Think about it.
I know you have an extremely busy life, (dont we all) so I just hope you can find a way to balance both softball and CrossFit in your life. Don't stress yourself out too much :) Thanks D!
-Samantha Roberts
Most of us wake up from a night of adventures and bizarre unusual events. However, Some people never recall and others forget as they carry out their daily routine. I used to think a dream was just a dream, nothing more. That was before I was introduced to Lucid Dreaming, which is being aware that you are dreaming.
ReplyDeleteI learned that I could enter a world within my own mind, one which is completely realistic, but completely safe. One where I can do anything my heart desires, no limits, no consequences. If I can imagine it, I can do it, and all while sleeping peacefully. The best part is, Lucid dreaming is a skill that can be learned. I could practice and get better. All of these facts are what initially got me interested in lucid dreaming. Most of my lucid adventures started last summer when I decided I could use my free time to practice.
I first started by logging my dreams. This led to a great improvement in my ability to recall. My dreams went from hazy and disconnected events to shockingly vivid in just about a week and a half. I then began work on achieving lucidity. This started with a technique called ADA or All Day Awareness. To lucid dream, I needed to become aware I was dreaming in a dream. Before I could ever do that, I first needed to become aware of my waking life. With that, I practiced ADA but maintaining awareness all day is not an easy thing to do, so I started in bits and worked my way up.
After two weeks of practicing ADA. I started to have lucid dreams. It was an odd experience. I had to work at controlling my body and staying aware. After more time, I was having 2-4 lucid dreams a week and even learned the skills of teleporting and changing the Dreamscape around me. However, I stopped practicing once the summer was coming to an end. My dreams have remained vivid ( which can sometimes be very terrible, especially when you get the dreams that evoke strong emotions like fear or sadness ) but my lucidity rate has gone down to about 1-2 per month.
Getting to the main point of this essay, how has lucid dreaming affected me? I've grown spiritually and emotionally, and I've accumulated some new experiences.
With lucid dreaming, I've had the opportunity to experience emotions in a more “pure” form. I say this because unlike waking life, when you're in a dream, you no longer have the mental barriers that prevent you from being flooded with an emotion. This has both a good and bad effect. You can experience pure emotions, but if you can't control them, the emotions can overwhelm you and wake you up. The worst part is waking up and having the emotion linger over in reality.
This has helped me better understand myself and my range of feeling/emotions. One of the more major things here is conquering fear. I would usually have more violent dreams than peaceful dreams. As a result, I've gone through a lot. I've been shot, burned, stabbed, kidnapped, beaten, drowned, and much more. I've also been attacked by almost every creature you can think of such as ghosts, demons, zombies, mutants, and the like. After a while, you really stop being afraid of those things and it gives you more confidence in waking life. Then again, not being afraid of stuff like that isn't useful most of the time, I mean, it's not often one is attacked by a ghost.
(So I have now wrote a little bit about lucid dreaming. It's unorganized, unfocused, and I only talked about how it affected me a little. Haha, it's pretty bad, but the idea is out there. I'll fix it up a lot in the final draft, I promise. )
--Coleman Williams
I love the concept of lucid dreaming, it seems so intriguing. You've talked a lot to me in person about how it's affected you, I'd enjoy seeing it come together onto paper- er- computer screen.
DeleteColeman
DeleteThe idea of this dreaming seems really interesting, but I’m still really confused about it all. I’ve never heard of this so if you could go into more detail about it all, I think it would make your writing better for people like me who have no idea what you’re talking about.
You did a really good job at how it all has affected you though. It makes me jealous that you’ve gotten over some of your fears because of this dreaming.
Casey Marshall
Being around people paralyzes me, it always has and I don’t know if that will ever change. In the beginning of my sophomore year I made a choice to be less introverted. I told myself I will talk, I will meet new people, I will join new clubs, and I will overcome this ridiculous shyness. This choice proved to be one of the most grueling challenges I have ever faced. I found out that this particular goal would be a long term goal and could not be achieved in one short year no matter how I tried.
ReplyDeleteMy freshman year I was a member in a few different clubs but I wasn’t an actual participate. So the first thing on my list to becoming a non-hermit was becoming an active member in my favorite club, FCCLA where I felt pretty comfortable. I went to the FCCLA National Cluster meeting in Indianapolis, Indiana with about 7 other people who I didn’t even know. You could probably guess that I was terrified and stupefied and I hated it. I roomed with two college students who are alumni and one person who was a junior at the time and I they were some of the best people I think I have ever met. While I listened to them talk to each other I sat in the background telling myself over and over again to talk and not be afraid and finally I spoke. I overcame one fear on my very extensive list of fears and by the end of the trip I was literally bouncing off the walls and the junior I roomed with was saying “Oh my gosh, we broke her!!” That one little sentence made my day because that’s when I realized that I could do this. I could be more courageous.
Also last year, I decided that I wanted to be a big part of something to show my determination and passion of abandoning my shyness. I decide that I wanted to be an officer for FCCLA. One thing I didn’t take into account when I made this decision was the fact that being an officer meant having to stand in front of a lot of people and speaking to them and when I realized this, I wanted to take back my officer application and rip it to pieces. I sucked it up and told myself to stop being a wimp and achieve my goal. I then became First Vice President of FCCLA and the joy in that moment made e forget about the bad part and gave me the motivation I needed to face the problem head on. I can now speak in front of people without turning into a frozen freak but I still shake and tremble and get that awful feeling in my stomach like there is a rock in it and it sucks but I WILL overcome this. I am set on that.
At the beginning of this year I told myself that I was time to spread my horizons in the friends department. This seems to be the most difficult part for me and I don’t know why but I keep trying, even when I get shot down over and over again. I know that this goal will not be fully accomplished by the end of this year and will probably be continued my entire life because it is the most terrifying thing for me, individually. I guess I’m just not a “social butterfly”. Oh, well. I guess all I can do is give it my best and face whatever challenges are thrown at me so that I can ditch the loner in me.
-Taylor Moreland
First, I want to start out by applauding you on your courageous decision to put aside your fears and use your voice. From talking to you on a daily basis, I know that you are very witty, and I wish that this trait of yours would shine through in your writing. I believe this would give your piece more voice. Overall, your writing was very insightful and I enjoyed reading about the journey that you are on to become more extroverted. There were just a few grammatical errors that I spotted while reading your post. In your first sentence participate should be participant. In the first sentence of the last paragraph, I think you intended to use the word “it” instead of “I”. In the fifth sentence of the third paragraph, “me” is missing an “m”.
Delete~Madison Wallace
I was late on my first day. My first day of volleyball. I walked into the gym right at 4 o'clock, proud that I was right on time. Then I looked up and saw 25 girls running laps and the coach staring at me. Five laps then stretch she growled at me. I think I might have whimpered a little but I was just lucky not to pass out. After I ran those laps and practiced for what seemed like an eternity practice was over. I was free! I could go home, chug some water and fall asleep. Some how I managed to force myself to go the next day and the day after that and so on until I was officially on the team. I hated that first few weeks of volleyball, not realizing it would turn out to be one of my favorite parts of high school.
ReplyDeleteIt was a challenge for me to play volleyball. I wasn't exactly in the greatest shape and my volleyball experience consisted of two years at the YMCA. But I managed to stick with it and before this season I made varsity. It is one of my proudest moments. I can't imagine what my life would be like without volleyball. (Well, it would be a lot easier, I would get my homework done faster and I would not be sleep-deprived all the time...but who cares about that anyways!) I had to challenge myself in order to achieve one of my greatest accomplishments.
I wouldn't be the same person that I am today without volleyball, even if I'm a little late sometime.
Emily Crowe
When I was learning, I was completely and utterly afraid of driving. Just the thought of getting behind the wheel made my heart jump out of my chest. I was so frustrated because I couldn’t drive the way I imagined I could. Driving didn’t come naturally to me, which for some reason bothered me, even though hardly anything ever does. It didn’t exactly help the situation that most of my friends had already been driving before I even turned sixteen, and while I was struggling to learn the basics, they pretty much had the whole driving thing “perfected”.
ReplyDeleteNormally, having to actually practice learning to drive like a typical human being shouldn’t bother someone, but I guess I wasn’t just someone. I was crushed. Devastated. Every time I wasn’t perfect, every time I made a mistake, I thought I was letting someone down. It didn’t matter whether it was my dad or myself or anyone, and I hated it. I hated it so much I basically started avoiding driving all together unless I had to. Until I started craving the feeling of independence that I started seeing in everyone else. Seeing everyone have that opportunity to at least have the illusion of independence made me want to have that too. It started to slowly overtake the fear of failure that I had come to associate with driving.
Eventually, Instead of my dad forcing me to drive, I started forcing him to take me driving. And to my surprise, practicing actually made me a better driver. The better I got, the less inadequate I felt about driving. I still don’t fully understand why it worries me so much to fail at some things, and with other situations it’s just a possible outcome. Maybe I’ll never figure it out.
Erin Chapman
Personally my biggest challenge in life is achieving my future goals. Sense middle school I knew I wanted to be in the medical field. By the time I was in high school I knew I wanted to be an Rn. So I've been working to achieve my future goals for years, and there have been many challenges to get to where I am now. Because of the many requirements I must meet to achieve my future goals.
ReplyDeleteOne of the many challenges that I faced was having to take advanced science courses. I had to take advanced biology and chemistry; this for me was a constant struggle and was not something I wanted to do but had to do. Because most colleges require biology and chemistry for a nursing degree. Because most Rn’s are the ones calculating how much medicine you are given and it is important to understand the amount you should be giving so you do not harm someone.
Another one of the many challenges that I had to face was taking a lot of medical explanatory’s not only to see if I’m interested in the medical field but also to see if I’m capable of completing the courses. At first they were hard and I would have to study for hours to remember many muscles, bones, disorders, diseases, and many more things. Which took awhile, but now I know them without having to even think about it. All of the courses also help to show me what parts of the medical field I’m interested in and where I fit in.
I would have to say the biggest challenge I have faced so far in the process of achieving my future goals of being a Rn. Would have to be taking MNA, because it is a dual enrollment college nursing course that is required for nursing school and is very important to my future success. We have done many things that were challenging in this course from doing procedures to taking 10-15 test per term this has been the hardest course so far but has really helped me to see what college is really like and what my future life as an Rn will be like.
So most of my challenges in life right now come from school. Because I really want to achieve my future goals and become an Rn. So even though I might not want to take hard science courses or have to memorize many medical topics or take on many challenges that make me feel stressed in a college nursing course. I do because achieving my future goals and becoming an Rn is important enough for me to take on all of these challenges so that I can achieve my future goals.
Drew Dearborn
“It is no bad thing celebrating a simple life.”
ReplyDelete― J.R.R. Tolkien
The great spaghetti monster in the sky has seen to fit to give me a lovely life. The more projects like this I have to do the more I can really realize and appreciate that fact. Too often I forget that it’s because of the luxuries and safety of my life that it seems so dull. The routine nature that I loathe so, is spawned from the simple fact that it is safe and rather uneventful on a grand scale, I don’t have any real troubles. I hardly ever see it for the blessing it is and the good that comes from it.
Look at Bilbo Baggins, a hero by all accounts. Look at where he started. The Shire, one of the most peaceful places in Middle Earth, home to the care-free, easy-going hobbits. Lovely little beings who as Bilbo so elegantly put it, have no interest in adventure.
“Sorry! I don’t want any adventures, thank you. Not Today. Good morning! But please come to tea – any time you like! Why not tomorrow? Good bye!”
-Bilbo Baggins
As a hobbit, he would much rather sit among his things in his cozy hole.
“Bother burgling and everything to do with it! I wish I was at home in my nice hole by the fire, with the kettle just beginning to sing!”
-Bilbo Baggins
But despite this, he becomes one of the greatest heroes, well, ever. But my point does not lie in the adventures that await the little hairy-footed man, but instead his content with his meager life within the shire. He was invested in life, and an adamantly happy individual, even without some sort of constant stimulation. He didn’t need something special about him, he didn’t need any sort of confirmation as to the adequacy of his life. He found his own happiness in the things around him.
I aspire to be like this, content with what is around me. Instead of constantly craving some sort of external stimulation, I want desperately to be more like a hobbit. Content. This is why I’ve devoted time into studying Taoism, and revisiting mental scenes like that of The Shire. I want to be able to just live, and be happy living, and it is a daily challenge for me to see life as worth it. I spend all day simply waiting for it to be over, and that’s ridiculous, but I have yet to really find something to live for. That secret passion of mine remains ever elusive despite efforts to uncover it through the tireless digging of my psyche.
I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but at some points I can be. Trapped in this cycle of vicious self-loathing. It’s silly to feel down or angry with life when I have so much to be grateful for. It’s a rather pathetic fact, but a true one none-the-less, and one that I am trying greatly to alter. To put simply, I see life as a constant test of willpower, a challenge that I stare in the face every day. Living with a sense of mediocrity hanging over you soon becomes a daunting task, even if this veil of sorts is entirely self imposed. The only way I can dream of curing this utter disease is learning to be happy with what I have, conquering these feelings of boredom, and discovering the method to finding happiness in the simple things that surround me.
Maybe one day I can have grand adventures like the ever so lovely Bilbo Baggins of Bag-End. But for now, I’m me, and that’s all I can be.
“Go back?” he thought. “No good at all! Go sideways? Impossible! Go forward? Only thing to do! On we go!”
-Bilbo Baggins
Loved your post, great comparison to one of my favorite books, The Hobbit.
Delete- Cameron Bunyea, head of the PPNTOO, Preservation of the Pacific Northwestern Tree Octopus Organization
The natural enemy of the tree octopi are sasquatch so please help to reduce the sasquatch population.
To learn more please visit the website below:
http://zapatopi.net/treeoctopus/
Not many know that I've only been going to public school for three years. This was a choice I had to make, it wasn't a hard because I wasn't gonna pay to go up to Lexington catholic and I live on the west side so that what sent me to Western Hills. This also brings a challenge to me because I only knew three people and one of those three was my brother. I didn't know anyone but that was only one I my challenges. I had to challenge myself I make new friends because I'm not the one to talk to people I don't know but lucky for me I joined the band and everyone took me in another challenge was not knowing what I was going to wear because I had always worn a uniform. Through out the three years I've been in public school I've changed a whole lot. Mrs. Hill will agree with me, I've became way more talkative. My freshman year it was good for me to talk to the teacher. I'm not as shy as I use to be. I'm more outgoing and willing to try new thing and make new friends.
ReplyDelete~Megan Blanton~
Your story was good and very concise. I think you should go more in depth about why the transition between private school and public school was hard and compare the two. You should also add some personal stories about your first days at public school. Then you should talk more about the new things you have tried and the new friends you have made.
DeleteTariq Onodu
The most monumental change that occurred throughout my lifetime would probably be moving from Thailand to America. I can remember everything due to my awesome memory, I remember every single detail that happened on that day.
ReplyDeleteI was six years old when this happened, so i couldn't really understand what was happening. But i woke up one morning, it felt like a normal day, a little chilly though. My mom came to me and told me to pack my things. I walked to my drawer and got the things i wanted to bring. I packed my clothes and most importantly my cool action figure, i don't even know what it was but i remember it being the coolest i had. After my mom and I finished packing our stuff, i walked outside and saw everyone at our door. My grandparents were there, my best friends were there, and my moms friends came. Just about everyone from our little town gathered to wish us well. But I didn't comprehend what was occurring in front of my eyes, because all of a sudden my grandma started to cry, then my grandpa started to tear up. I looked up and saw my mom starting to cry, at that point my eyes wouldn't stop producing tears. I just couldn't stop, and I kept tugging on my moms shirt asking "whats going on?" My grandma came towards me and tied on my wrist a thin white string, she told me that this string would protect me through my travel. When she finished tying the string, she gave me the biggest hug I've ever received.
After the sad mess that just happened ended, a white van came on our driveway. It was our ride to the airport, we got on and waved bye to everyone. The ride was long and I seriously hated it. But when we arrived at the airport, I was in awe. I've never seen or rode in an airplane before, so it was a new experience for me. We got on and I was freaking terrified!, NOBODY told me I was going to get off the ground in this thing called an airplane. I hated it at first, but I started to enjoy the ride because I was in a cloud. The plane was actually touching the cloud, I thought that was an impossible task.
The long plane ride ended and we finally arrived at our destination, and it was packed in the airport. This man came to us and guided the way out with us. Yeah I hate the cold, it was colder than cold out (the month was December). But we followed the man to his red truck, I didn't know what was going on. Who is he? Why am I here? Well during our ride my mom told me the whole story, we spoke in Thai so the white man didn't understand a lick of what we said. So apparently she's getting married to him, and we are going to live here now with him. I opposed it at first, because we had a good house in Thailand, but i didn't know we were thousands of miles away from it. But I couldn't do anything about it.
As the years passed, I started to enjoy living here with my mom and step dad. I was so shocked of how different it was here compared to where I use to live. But I'm very happy that we did moved though, I've made so much new friends and i couldn't be any happier here.
-Nick Raymond
Nick, you are one of my best friends ever, and I am so thankful you and your mom made the move to America. I cant imagine what that must have been like as a young boy, but everything happens for a reason and it is funny how life is like a constant chain reaction- one thing happens which in turn affects something else, then that affects something else and so on...
DeleteThank you for sharing your amazing story- which I have always been curious of, and I'm sure many others have been too. I would love to hear more about your family and how your living conditions changed from Thailand to America!
Amber Booth:)
Nick, I loved your story as well! Just as Amber mentioned, I have always been a little curious about your story so I’m glad you were willing to share it with us. I think something you could do to improve your piece is continuing with your writing. I feel like through the story it was very interesting but then in the second to last paragraph you kind of just ended it. I think you should keep going before include your final paragraph. Maybe talk about how you got used to America, or the things that were different here than in Thailand. I just think you ended your story too soon and there could be more things you could mention. There are some grammatical errors, which can easily be fixed. Other than that, I loved it!
DeleteHannah Smith
From Cinderella, Mulan, Ariel, Pocahontas and all the way to Sleeping Beauty, most of us girls have grown up wanting to be a Disney princess. For me, I wanted to be Mulan- strong, loving, smart, independent, and brave. Besides the whole cross-dressing situation, she was who I wanted to be when I grew up.
ReplyDeleteNevertheless, we cannot leave out her handsome prince charming, Shang. After all, that is the icing on the cake of every princess story; finding you’re Prince Charming at the end of the adventure and living "happily ever after”. Now, I’m not going to sit here and tell you a mushy love story about my boyfriend and I or anything like that, but instead I wanted to talk of how my boyfriend and I are keeping our relationship sexually pure in order to represent our faith of Christianity-which is a very uncommon thing to do in this day and age we live in. According to (http://www.guttmacher.org/pubs/FB-ATSRH.html) “16% of teens have had sex by age 15, compared with one-third of those aged 16, nearly half (48%) of those aged 17, 61% of 18-year-olds and 71% of 19-year-olds.” Being someone who just turned 17, that is so scary for me to hear, that almost half of American’s by they reach 17 years old, have already had sex. Whereas I am still a proud virgin.
To some that isn’t “cool” at all, but to me it is something I hold very dear to my heart and will continue to hold in my heart until my wedding day. Now, let me tell you, this is a challenge my boyfriend and I have decided to take on together as a couple. It isn’t always easy to stay pure when the statistics are against you, propaganda always popping up of: “everyone else is doing it” and those teenage hormones are happening. Nevertheless, it is a choice my boyfriend and I have made together, to remain pure until marriage; which is something I know I will never have to regret doing; rather than not staying pure and regretting so much on my wedding night from not waiting and saving myself for the man God has planned for me.
One of my favorite songs is “Average girl” by Barlow Girl, even though I am in a dating relationship right now, I feel that it describes me and what I’m trying to say here, very well. It might be cheesy, but hey, everyone needs a little cheesy now and then. Here are a few stanzas from their song- enjoy.
-Barlow Girl; “Average Girl”
“So what I'm not your average girl
I don't meet the standards of this world
chasing after boys is not my thing
See I'm waiting for a wedding ring
No more dating
I'm just waiting
Like sleeping beauty
My prince will come for me
No more dating I'm just waiting
'Cause God is writing my love story”
~Amber Booth~
I have seen you reply to so many, so I only thought you deserve a reply as well! Thank you for sharing your point of view. I think as teens, at a public school, in Frankfort, KY, we don't really see the view of abstinence in the public eye. It is certainly not in the common media, and it wasn't a topic in the lovely health class I took last year. It's great to hear your perspective and I appreciate how you remain respectful as to not push your views on anyone else.
DeleteSomething to help ya - I think you should include a more ethical approach. Who are we to listen to your story? As a classmate, I know your commitment to Christianity, and I would love to hear another testament from someone else.
Morgan Gay, team Disney princess Jasmine
Amber,
DeleteOut of all these blog posts I’ve read yours can certainly relate to every student not just in our class but in our whole school. It warms my heart to know that are still some people out there who are saving themselves for marriage which is the way it should be. I really like the quotes you used from the song, although I’ve never heard it before I really like the honesty of the lyrics.
This blog really gets you thinking a lot about choices in life and how a choice like this permanent and irreversible. I know that you have strong Christian values, like myself, I really appreciate you sharing your story. I feel that everyone who reads this should also take on that challenge you have of waiting for marriage with their Prince Charming or Cinderella.
Lexie Richardson
I love the fact that you posted this and I agree with your view completely! I wish society saw it the same way. -Courtnie Carr
DeleteAmber, I wanted to thank you for posting this!!! I absolutely agree with you! In high school reframing from doing things that ours peers pressure us to do can be and is very hard, I wish more of our society would be faithful to the lord and would have enough respect for themselves to weight until after marriage to have sex.
DeleteI enjoyed reading your post and all the lovely comments!!! (:
~Taylor Gilbert
Amber,
DeleteI loved the way you put this and how you include your values and the statistics. I'm sure if anyone (male or female) saw this they would value your point and realize how a choice like that is irreversible and how you can regret it when that high school and sad to say middle school fling doesn't work how it was planned.
-Kendra Harris
It's the spring of my 8th grade year and tryouts for the Western Hills dance team are right around the corner, the day I have been waiting for since my mom started teaching at WHHS is finally here. I finally have the chance to be on the dance team I always wanted to be on.
ReplyDeleteMonday was the first day of clinics and I was so excited I could hardly stand it. When I walked into the gym we began stretching, just like I had before any other dance practice, so I felt good about things. Then we started learning the dance... And in a matter of moments I was lost and could barely keep up. By the end of the first day of clinics I was completely discouraged and pretty much knew that I wouldn't make it. After countless hours going over and over the dance when I got home, I felt a little better about it and decided that I would not give up; I would push through, even if it meant that I would not make the team. Tuesday went the same way, except 10x worse. When I got home after the clinics I did the same thing I did the night before, I pushed through. Wednesday was a day to ourselves and I used that to my advantage. I went over and over and over the dance drilling it into my head preparing for tryouts the next day.
Finally the day was here, it was tryout day and I felt every emotion all at the same time. It was finally my time to go in front of the judges and I couldn't stop shaking. All the things I could mess up kept playing through my mind. Well after I went out on the stage and did all the things that I thought I could mess up, I was completely devastated. After waiting for all those years I just destroyed that one chance of being a Western Hills dancer... And I was right, I did not make the dance team for my freshmen year of high school. After being upset for a while, I decided to put it behind me and focus on getting better. I tried out for Champions Elite dance team and this time, I made it. I practiced my hip-hop tricks, I focused on getting my motions sharper, and most of all I didn't let my emotions get the best of me. While I was on this team for two years I improved in so many ways and I was so grateful for all the things Champions helped me accomplish.
At the end of my Sophomore year I decided I would give Western Hills dance team another try and this time I was determined to make it. When I walked into clinics the first day I knew all my hard work had payed off. I picked up on the dance easily and I had all the tricks I needed to have to make the team, not only was I prepared but I felt confident. This time when I walked into tryouts I wasn't replaying all the things I did wrong but making sure I knew everything to do right. This time I was ready. This time when they put the list up of the 2013-2014 Western Hills dance team members my name was on it. Finally after all those years of wishing, waiting, and wanting to be on the Western Hills dance team I was finally on it. This challenge taught my to never give up but instead practice, practice, practice until you get it right.
Abigale Wilson
I am an unusual person. Some of you will not find that very hard to comprehend or may not even need telling. But, I am different from others in my age group in a very unique way. I am a catholic teenager that actually believes and holds the morals of my church. All of you have heard stories about us "weird" catholics who have just been going through the same motions for thousands of years, selling forgiveness and abusing innocent children. Those kind of stories are actually making my life a living hell.
ReplyDeleteIt is the bane of my existence when someone finally catches on that I am catholic and they give me the cold shoulder because they think that I am some kind of sicko. I have been asked many times if feel uncomfortable around my priest or why we can't just be normal and be a part of the, what I would like to call, "Anything Goes Policy" which is becoming increasingly popular. That is one of the first things I have a problem with. If we were created in a certain way, by whom ever you choose, wouldn't it follow that you were supposed to accept that you are the way that you are and not try to alter it in any way. Today in class, I heard two people talking about how it would be completely okay if someone wanted to be african-american even though they were caucasian. Maybe I'm the last person on earth, but I think that there is something wrong with that picture. If a person was created white then that is the way the nature wanted it. Who are we to try and go against the will of nature with a mere whim. That is just a minor example what is becoming okay. Apparently, it doesn't matter anymore that you just deal with the hand you've been dealt, you can just change it and dress like a woman and call yourself black.
Another big question that I get asked a lot is "Why do your priests molest little boys?" This one really makes it difficult for me. But, I just say right back that they chose the wrong line of work. When we chose our priests, there is a long process of discernment (listening to what God has to say on the matter) which hopefully allows the people who God wants to be priests to serve the people. Without becoming too religious, I want to say that it is completely possible for a pedophile to fall through the cracks and become a priest, but there have been statistics done on how many do actually make it to the priesthood. About 1 in every 500 priests do not deserve to be priests. That means that only a handful actually are in the U.S. Anyway, the catholic church has no tolerance policies in place to maintain the purity of the church. I would like to say that is the end of it but, there have been a surprising number of pedophilic leaders in other well known american organizations and churches. Most of the time when people associate the catholic church with pedophilia it is just the misguided words of the media who seem to want to target catholics for what ever reason.
Part 1
-Simon Holden
Finally, I want to say why I as a teenager in 2013 have stuck with the "old fashioned" catholic church and maintained their strict and currently unpopular morals. I believe in something worth fighting for. I believe that we are some of the only people left who have maintained a clear head in the glamor of immoral changes to our society and country. I see the catholic church as the last guardians of the true way of nature. As a part of this church I can see the beauty of nature and how our integrity has lasted through the ages. Doesn't it make sense to you that if something was not acceptable today should stay the same tomorrow? Here is a pretty graphic example of I am trying to say. Currently it is seen as taboo and even illegal to walk around in public with out clothes on. Then one day someone said, out of the blue, just to be different, "Why are clothes necessary? I think that they aren't so I will no longer wear clothes." Then another person thought that this "sans clothes" mentality was cool or novel. So, eventually everyone did it. But yet, today it is not acceptable to be stark naked in public. That is what I am talking about. If something that was previously unthinkable became a norm, would you follow? Or would you continue to hold your beliefs and morals.
ReplyDeleteThrough out the years it has been difficult for me to hold my current beliefs and morals about life, death and about everything that I hold near and dear. Which is being questioned by others. But then I remind myself that I have something to hold on to. I have a beautiful truth to keep because I know that I am right in my mind and no class distinction or peer pressure can take that away from me.
Part 2
-Simon Holden
You did a tremendous job on the writing. Once I started reading I couldn’t stop. I could hear your voice shine through and I could feel what you felt. I too am a catholic teen that believes and holds the morals of my church. I cannot say that I have ever gotten the cold shoulder from anybody about my religion though but that might be because I went to Good Shepherd School for most of my life though.
DeleteI think you should make your examples more clear. For example you wrote, “it doesn't matter anymore that you just deal with the hand you've been dealt, you can just change it and dress like a woman and call yourself black.” Instead of “and” you should use “or”. You could also talk about a “major” example about why it is not okay for a Caucasian to want to be African American. I know for me growing up in a private school and being the only African American in my class (and in my whole middle school for 2 of my 3 years) I felt like the outcast. The racist jokes that I heard every day from catholic teens like you and me made me want to be Caucasian for the longest time. So much to the point that I hated myself and my nationality. Maybe that’s just me but I think there is something wrong with that picture.
Another thing that you should do is add more statistics, like the number of catholic priest in the world, and maybe add a link supporting your data. The link would give you more logos. Your “why are cloths necessary” example is great and funny. The main idea about how “if something was not acceptable today should stay the same tomorrow” needed more supporting details and examples to fill the holes, plus the word “it” between the words “today” and “should”. Some examples of these holes are women’s right, slavery, and gay rights. All of these were not acceptable at one time and now they are either accepted, abolished, or coming to acceptance. I am assuming that you are against gay rights and that would contradict with what you said earlier about “If we were created in a certain way, by whom ever you choose, wouldn't it follow that you were supposed to accept that you are the way that you are and not try to alter it in any way.”
You also need an “I” between “if” and “feels” in the second paragraph. Once again great job. It was really brave of you to post your views on such controversial topics.
Tariq Onodu
Here I am again sitting on the side of the pool, beating my head against the wall and slowly going crazy from chlorine withdrawals. Why does this happen to me? First pneumonia which tool me out for two and a half months before I was even close to where I was before that. Now I've hurt my shoulder which has taken me out of the pool for a month and a half so far. Coming back from this is going to be the biggest challenge of my swimming career.
ReplyDeleteEven though I have come back from a similar set back before this is completely different. With pneumonia all I had to do was build up my lung capacity and cardio endurance. With this injury I've got to basically start over at ground zero, well not exactly at ground zero but pretty close. Recovery is always the first part of injury. The time always seems to go by so slow.
I'm both looking forward to and dreading getting back into practices. I know its going to be a lot of hard work which I've already seen from all the physical therapy I've already had to go through, but I enjoy a challenge. I know that if I keep going and pushing my limits like I have been I'm going to climb out of this hole I've found myself in so much better off than I was before. It's me build a stronger work ethic and renewed my dedication to the sport and if I keep going like I have been there's definitely a light at the end of the tunnel.
Admiral General Jacob "Aladeen" Silvernail
Part 1
ReplyDeleteThere’s a lot to be said for the power of adrenaline. Some people find adrenaline when bungee jumping or sky-diving. Others find adrenaline in those last 20 seconds of the match when all the pressure is on them, all eyes on them, everyone eagerly anticipating those final seconds of truth. I find adrenaline as I lace up my cleats, mentally and physically preparing for the game. I find adrenaline as I step on the field and get lost in the game, lost in the feel of the ball at my feet. When you’re on an adrenaline high, you’re faster, stronger, smarter, and more in-tune than your opponent. Nothing can faze you, nothing can touch you. Trust me, there’s a lot to be said for the power of adrenaline.
The struggle comes when adrenaline is no longer enough to cover the pain, the fatigue, the lack of strength. For 8 months I played with a torn labrum in my hip. For 3 months I played off adrenaline. Sure it would hurt but as soon as I got into the game the pain faded away and I just could focus on each touch, each tackle. After a few months, a sharp, stabbing pain began to seep its way through the haze of adrenaline and into my game. Shortly thereafter, I started taking an Advil (or two) before the game, after the game, during the day, whenever the pain resurrected. I swore that ice could heal anything as it placated my pain. Briefly. Ice relieved the pain briefly. Those cold, numbing cubes became my new best friend, and with Advil of course.
Adrenaline. Advil. Ice. Combined, those three things bought me another few months. I could still play the game I love and I could continue the only life I knew. Sure I felt some pain when they wore off but I was fine. I was fine. I just wouldn’t run track this year, I didn’t like it that much anyway. There was no reason to stop playing. Physical therapy didn’t work; I tried that. Surgery wasn’t an option, not when I was still able to play. So I was fine.
Those three magical things, they only served to put a Band-Aid on the physical pain. The thing that lingered, that ate me inside was mental, but I was fine. As much as I wanted to believe that, worry and doubt crept into my mind. I wondered if I was good enough. I started to feel less than up to par, out of place and undeserving, on the field with such elite players. In fear I pushed harder, trained more, and ignored the voices of reason. 10 more shots, 15 more crosses, 20 more sprints. Of course my “cure” only led to more ice, more Advil, but I was fine.
Except maybe I wasn’t. The semi-finals of State Cup were close. I just had to make it a few more weeks and I could rest. Except the adrenaline, that adrenaline that kept me going for so long, I didn’t feel it any more. When I laced up my cleats and stepped on the field all I felt was dread. I dreaded playing. I dreaded everything. I knew it would hurt. Every step and every shot and every pass and every run and every single thing I did, would bring pain. The sweet power of adrenaline that carried me in its’ arms for months wasn’t enough. That’s when I made my choice. The truth I had been evading for so long, it caught up to me and now it was time to face it.
Part 1
-Harper Jones
Part 2
ReplyDeleteThe week after the semi-finals I went to see a hip specialist to get some MRIs done and figure out how to fix it, fix me. I diligently sat the allotted 6 weeks out. I didn’t touch a ball, I didn’t lace up my cleats, I didn’t even protest that much. Yet the pain was still there, dully throbbing in the background of my body, prone to sudden and unexplainable flares of anger much like a high school girl. At the end of the 6 weeks I faced the truth that had building in me for 10 months now; I needed surgery. I wouldn’t play for another 6-8 months, 5 at best.
Even now when I’m back on the field playing, slowly learning to love the game again, the same question lingers. Did I make the right choice all those months back? Should I have gone to the doctor when I first felt the pain? Or maybe when the adrenaline wore off and the pain began to linger? Should I even be playing now? Is this what I love? Every single day I chose to evade the inevitable. I chose to stick to what I knew, what I loved, instead of listening to those who knew more. Yes I have my happy ending. I’m on the field playing, my body took surgery well and I came back fast. I’ll never know if I could’ve avoided surgery by going in when it first began. I’ll never know what the right choice was. I’ll never know, but I find it’s best not to focus on questions with answers I’ll never find. I just take one day at a time and hope I make the “right” choice this time around. There’s a lot to be said for adrenaline but there’s also a lot to be said for facing the truth.
Part 2
-Harper Jones
PART THE FIRST
ReplyDeleteAllow me to introduce myself. Hi there, I’m the really smart kid with the messed-up lip.
Whew. Glad that’s off my chest.
As long as I can remember, my life has been an ongoing, subconscious challenge to make the most of being eternally labeled by those two features of me.
Let me address the second feature first. In sixth grade basketball, after a particularly respectable game (I was inexplicably good at basketball in middle school) I might have been rewarded by overhearing an opponent mutter, “the kid with the messed up lip was a good player,” or something along those lines. Not number 20; not the point guard; not the kid awkwardly sporting a t-shirt under his jersey. No, that dazzlingly perceptive sixth grader knew me as the kid with the messed up lip.
Now, I would be remiss not to clarify for those of you who haven’t had the displeasure of talking to me up close, or didn’t see Bobby G and others call me out for it on the Twitters. I was born with a cleft lip, and when I was a baby I had surgery to fix it. It’s the petite indentation on the left (I actually just had to check which side it was on—that’s how little I think about it) side of my upper lip. Judging by the hundreds of times that I have been asked, “what happened to your lip?” it must be my most profound feature. And I can’t help but chuckle at that prospect.
In the same vein, I couldn’t help but burst out laughing when I read on twitter that evidently I can’t “mess up that clef lip anymore.” Or when someone called me “cleffy.” Or when someone told me in a text that I can take my “ugly clef lip ass on somewhere.” Of course, the main reason for my laughter is that evidently “cleft” is a very hard word to spell. But I also laughed because of the incredible shallowness of these depraved people. If that’s truly the best insult that you can come up with about me, I’m flattered.
As I’ve gotten older, fewer people have asked me about my lip (yet, amusingly, more people insult me about it). Yet I suppose, for some reason, I have grown up to feel cheated out of my identity when I’m remembered for a miniscule facial feature. It’s not insecurity by any means—that would have made for a terrible childhood. It is a sense of underestimation that I grew accustomed to as a child, and now the natural reaction to being identified by my lip is to provide a hundred great reasons to identify me by something else. I promise there are more significant parts of me.
If you do in fact identify me by something else, please do not be that person who calls me “the smart kid.” Yes, I grin and nod and shrug when people tell me I’m too smart or that I’m going to make more money by the time I’m twenty-five than they will make their whole lives. But on the inside, the eye roll is absolute.
I swear, if I had a dime for every time someone has told me I just succeed because I’m smart, I would fulfill the prophecy of making more money by the time I'm 25 than (person) in their whole life. Perhaps these people honestly believe that they’re paying me a compliment. But they’re not. Anyone who says something like that to me is both undercutting the hard work that I have—believe it or not—put in throughout my education and making excuses for themselves.
PART THE SECOND
DeleteI have been blessed with parents who have made me learn about the world, made me apply myself, paid to send me to a fantastic private school until ninth grade. Yet the scores that I have received, the awards that I have won, are not merely a sum of genetics and upbringing. I had to take those tests. I had to study (or, pay enough attention to absorb the information). I did not become good at Quick Recall by accident. It has taken countless hours of work to get to where I am—to be able to excel while appearing not to try. If I don’t work hard enough at some step of the educational process, I feel like an idiot. Honestly—just ask anyone in my lab group in AP Chem.
Anyone who attributes my success to pure intellect is making excuses for their failures. It’s not my problem if I beat you on a test or if my presentation makes yours look bad. That’s your problem. It has nothing to do with me being smarter than you, because I’m probably not. I just worked harder than you at some point—either in elementary and middle school, where I learned ninety percent of all social studies and humanities information that I know today, or on the homework that you didn’t do or that you BSed or that you got off the Internet. I’m looking at you, 2012-13 APUSH class.
It’s worth noting that I don’t take—and never have taken—“nerd” as an insult.* This post is not to defend myself from such comments. It could be because I was raised in an environment where academic success got you praise from students and faculty alike, or it could be that I think making fun of someone for being smart is extraordinarily ignorant, provincial, and lazy, but those around me quickly learn that “nerd” or anything similar will not faze me whatsoever. However, I still feel slighted when I’m labeled by my intelligence because that limits me.
I’m many things. I’m a son, a brother, a cousin, a nephew, a teammate, and most importantly a friend. I’m a goalkeeper. I’m a Son of Gondor (Dol Amroth, to be specific)** at heart. I’m an academic team captain. I’m a very average piano player. I’m a student. I’m a liberal Democrat. And I’m a smart kid with a messed-up lip. So call me Andrew, Bates, Andy Master, BTG, or cleffy (at your own embarrassment), but know that if you label me I will prove you wrong with great satisfaction.
Andrew “BTG” Bates
*I feel the same about “cocky bastard”; it’s lazy and jealous. Besides, I am in fact immensely grateful for the tools that I’ve been given, and I have been humbled many times over by such forces of nature as the Dunbar academic team and Anita Tope.
**If you understand this reference we can be friends—tall and fair swan friends in shining robes of deep blue and silver guided by the noble Prince Imrahil.
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteI’m struggling guys. I can honestly say that I have faced a challenge when trying to decide on what to write. If you know me, I’m an open book, but I’m not one to get touchy-feely and sensitive and spill my emotions onto a screen as I confess the reasons why I am who I am today. However, I was thinking of that last statement, “the reasons why I am who I am today”, and I think I’ve found my challenge leading to change.
ReplyDeleteAs many of you know, I was pleasantly in a relationship with a young man who I found to not exactly be “my type”. He pushed me in finding out who I really am and what really makes me happy and where I want to go in life and the things I think I might want years down the road. He pushed me in defining parts of myself, parts of my morals, my faith, etc. as he took me to church, family outings, frog-gigging, baseball games, and to my first time shooting a rifle. As we watched Duck Dynasty and listened to country music in his truck and as he begged me to hunt with him. The dooming question that eventually resulted in the end of our relationship was, how can we make each other so happy, yet be so different?
Throughout this relationship, I was asked to define parts of myself that I haven’t ventured to do so before. My mind is not one that wanders 10 years into the future, I prefer to live in the present. Thus, a huge challenge for me was competing with his sense of future awareness, and my constant concern with the busy week ahead of me. With this junior year, full of challenging classes, a GSP application, an all-state audition, a pageant, a campaign for an office at a conference, and strenuous extracurriculars, I don’t take a breath to think about my future past college and past an occupational label. He challenged me to define who I am, and I just did not want to be defined.
After the relationship ended, I took a step back to look at my life. What consumed most of it, what I enjoyed doing, where I could possibly see myself in the future. I contemplated things like where my morals originated from, what I really think will happen to me when I pass away, and whether or not I am living the life I want to live. This mere relationship changed me, in ways that I probably wouldn’t have seen if it weren’t for him, so I have nothing but thanks to give. No, I still have not defined the things he wanted me to, but now I am attempting to define them for different reasons.
Morgan Gay
Must apologize for the lack of space between paragraphs... Word did not do me well on this one.
DeleteMorgan Gay
Same for my essay posted a few above... I blame Word.
DeleteHarper Jones
Since you replied on mine, I wanted to return the favor! I loved hearing your story and learning more about you as an individual. What I personally love about your blog is how much I can relate to it. I will spare you the long story, but I love reading posts I can relate to.
DeleteSomething I would like to hear more about would be to hear how you get yourself motivated for planning for the future now. Is your past boyfriend your main motivation? Do you just tell yourself to do it? Is it something you hate doing, planning for the future? Or do you enjoy it now?
Just something to think about:)
Thank you for sharing your story with us.
~Amber Booth~
Part 1
ReplyDeleteSometimes unexpected events can challenge us and we have to get through them. Everyone is faced with a challenge at some point in their life; some good and some bad. I was faced with a challenge and even though I was only seven years old, I remember almost every detail about that day like it was just yesterday.
It was a cold December Sunday afternoon. I remember because it was freezing and snow had covered the ground. I was wearing a nice white shirt with ruffled sleeves and my favorite purple gloves to keep my fingers warm. After church that day my family and I were supposed to make Christmas candy with my Nana.
When church was over I rode home with my Aunt and little cousin. We had to stop by their house to pick up the chocolate. I walked up the sidewalk to their front door. Watching my cousin toddle along behind me, making sure her footprints were exactly in the same spots where mine were in the snow.
We got inside and the first thing we did was run to her room to play. She had to show me all of her toys, games, books and dresses. My Aunt came in the room while we were playing and told my cousin that whatever she did to not open the door next to her room. Both of them knew what was behind that door, but I had no clue. I was curious, but I listened to my Aunt and went along playing and didn’t bother the door.
My cousin which was two at the time asked me if I wanted to see her puppy. I told her I would love to see it. I was sitting on the floor rummaging through her toy box expecting for her to bring back a stuffed puppy. I watched her go into the hallway and open the door that had been forbidden by my Aunt. All of a sudden this huge bear-like thing ran towards me. It was so heavy I could feel it on top of me; I thought my ribs were going to break. I heard loud woofs in my ears and felt warm dog breath on my face. I couldn’t see anything; all I knew was that my mouth hurt terribly. I got the monster off of me and looked down to see that my white shirt with ruffled sleeves was no longer white, instead, a dark red. That “puppy” had bitten or clawed or I done I don’t even know what to my face.
I ran crying to the bathroom because I didn’t understand what was happening. I told my cousin to go get my Aunt. I looked at myself in the mirror and all I saw was red. My puffy eyes, red from crying and red blood, gushing from my mouth, which was going all over the place. I had never seen so much blood in my seven years on this earth. Relief came over me when my Aunt, who is a doctor, came rushing into the bathroom with a white washcloth and an ice pack. I could see the panic in her face and the confused expression on my cousin’s face as she waited in the hallway.
After washing my face, the washcloth was no longer white either, once again that same dark red. I could see that my upper lip had a tear in it. I was freaking out because I could move my lip back and forth and knew that wasn’t supposed to happen. My Aunt looked at me and told me that the cut was too deep and that I needed stitches. I had never been to the emergency room let alone ever get stitches. I wasn’t even sure what stitches were. I pictured some old lady knitting my face up and was so scared.
We got in the car, ready to begin our frightening journey to the hospital. I couldn’t stop crying, I was so scared and wasn’t sure what was going to happen. I sat in my seat with an ice pack wrapped in a blue washcloth. The bleeding had slowed down but my whole face throbbing. It felt like it had a heartbeat of its own. I looked at my cousin beside me. She was staring; her confused expression still had not changed. I thought about how she must’ve been wondering why her “puppy”, a 100lb adult Siberian husky, had made me cry. I could hear my Aunt on the phone with my mom, telling her what had just happened in the surprisingly past ten minutes. It all happened so fast.
Hannah Smith
Part 2
ReplyDeleteThe waiting room was terrifying with no color and not very many people. By that time I had stopped crying, but I couldn’t say anything, the only noise coming out of me was my uncontrollable snubbing. People starred at me as they walked by, but I didn’t care. My mouth felt as though it was going to fall off. I still didn’t understand why this had to of happen. I just wanted to go make Christmas candy. Most of all I wanted my mom to be there with me.
After what felt like hours, my name was called. I went into the room to find that there was no old lady waiting with pointy knitting needles but a nice nurse who had a warm reassuring smile on her face. She told me that it felt worse than how bad it actually was and that I only needed three stiches. I held my Aunts hand and whimpered every time I felt the needle go through one side of my flesh and back out the other. Ouch!
When the quick torture was over, I looked in the mirror and there was a black lump on the corner of my upper lip. I was thankful the bleeding had stopped and the throbbing had gone away but now I was concerned about how embarrassing it was going to be to walk in class on Monday which was the next day. I was afraid all the other kids were going to make fun of me or think it was gross. Third graders can be harsh sometimes.
On Monday morning I cried and begged my mom to let me stay home. I couldn’t face my class because I looked so weird. My mom walked me to class that day and explained to my teacher the eventful weekend we had just experienced. My teacher understood and told me I could share my story with the whole class.
At first I was nervous, and then I saw their intrigued faces. No one else in my class had as an exciting weekend as I did or had ever gotten stitches before, so it was cool to be the first one. The kids didn’t make fun of me or get grossed out, they thought my stitches were awesome and said it looked like I had a mini mustache. Everyone asked me all kinds of questions and told me how brave I was. I felt like a celebrity. I had worried for nothing.
This was a challenge in my life I’ve had to overcome. Even though I overcame the events of that day and going to school the next day, I was left with the fear that every dog would bite my face off and an ugly scar on my lip. As I’ve grown older and am now sixteen, I am no longer scared of dogs but would much rather not be around them, I prefer cats. As for my scar, its barely noticeable and most of the time I don’t pay any attention to it. I feel like my story is proof that challenges can be overcame.
Hannah Smith
For a lot of people sports are just something they do because their parents want them to do it or because they’re bored with their lives. My passion for soccer goes far beyond what other people want or expect of me, it’s what I want for myself not only for the present but for my future and the rest of my life.
ReplyDeleteAt age 4 my parents signed me up for the YMCA recreational soccer league. Most kids at that age just play so they have something to do and granted that’s why my parents had signed me up. However, most kids drop out as they get older but I didn’t. I played YMCA rec soccer fall and spring season until I got to middle soccer at the age of 12. My 6th grade year in middle school I tried out for the middle school soccer team, at that time in my life I had never tried out for anything ever before. I was ecstatic to find out that I had made the team. Since middle school soccer was in the spring I had no choice but to drop out of rec soccer since it conflicted too much with school soccer. One of the best parts of playing soccer in general and especially on that team is that I played on with people that I know.
As each person grew with skill we adapted and learned how to play together well. When I got to 8th grade I decide to be a part of the WHHS JV soccer team. It was an amazing experience to see and play soccer on a high school level. Playing JV just motivated me more to want to play soccer all throughout high school. When I got to high school soccer the biggest challenge for me was managing my time. Along with soccer I was a member of the band, dance team, track team, and of course I had to manage school work. Somehow though I happen to always work it out perfectly and balance all my obligations and activities. Another challenge in high school soccer was the fact that every year we lost a coach so we had to gain a new one. Adapting to new coaching style every year was hard however, as a team we worked together to overcome the difficulties.
I feel that this past fall season of soccer has been I and my teams’ most successful year yet. We beat Franklin County in the city championship, got runners up in districts, and made it to regionals which WHHS hadn’t done since 2006. The best feeling in the world to me is knowing that you helped achieve greatness in a way you never knew you had the ability to do. These precious moments in high school helped me realize that I wanted to further my soccer career beyond high school and into college. My sophomore year I joined Commonwealth Soccer Club, which is a traveling soccer team that plays on a much higher level. Through this team I met many new talented people who were as serious about soccer as me. This team also helped me grow as a soccer player.
I could never have accomplished so much with soccer without my parents who support me know matter what I decide and push me to be the best I can be. I’m so grateful for all the abilities that God has blessed me with because I know without him nothing I do is possible. A lot people might think that it’s crazy to call a sport your passion but soccer is something I love and has shaped who I am not just as a player but as a person, without it I don’t know what I would do. CHANGING from different levels of soccer has CHALLENGED me to make CHOICES that will impact my life forever. It’s hard to believe that I will close the door to my journey with high school soccer next year but I look forward to opening a new door to my soccer career in my future.
Lexie Richardson
We each are still very young, and will have countless choices to make and challenges to face as we progress through our lives. The challenge that I've encountered is one that is fairly common in today's society, yet still affects me profoundly; the challenge that is most prominent in my life is the divorce of my parents.
ReplyDeleteAt the age of six, most of us are frolicking around and having fun with childhood, as most children do. I was six when my parents got divorced. Fortunately, there was no fighting between my parents and it wasn't messy at all. Nevertheless, it was still a rough time for me, as a six year old has no idea what is truly happening.
Ever since then, I have been going to a different parent's house every week, and it has really become commonplace for me. I pack some items, and switch. And I don't mind it as much as I used to, because I know it's for the better.
Now, I am fortunate in that I have two parents who I love and love me and my sister, otherwise they wouldn't have been so civil during the divorce. Since then, both of my parents have remarried and are very happy, as am I. I know that life could be better, but it could also be much worse, so I'm ever-appreciative of what I have.
Cam Newton
Cameron, this is a very good story, something that can relate to a lot of people and it’s something I didn't know about you. I feel like it would be an even better and stronger piece if you added more details about what happened to you. Be more personal in your writing. Yes, I know it was a hard time for you, but be more personal about it. How did you truly feel? You were young, were you confused on what was happening? Tell us more about it; be open with your audience. I know this is just a first draft, but maybe consider going into more depth with your paragraphs you already have. In my opinion, they’re too quick and to the point, I bet you have a lot more to say on the subject. Overall, good story.
DeleteHannah Smith
We each are still very young, and will have countless choices to make and challenges to face as we progress through our lives. The challenge that I've encountered is one that is fairly common in today's society, yet still affects me profoundly; the challenge that is most prominent in my life is the divorce of my parents.
ReplyDeleteAt the age of six, most of us are frolicking around and having fun with childhood, as most children do. I was six when my parents got divorced. Fortunately, there was no fighting between my parents and it wasn't messy at all. Nevertheless, it was still a rough time for me, as a six year old has no idea what is truly happening.
Ever since then, I have been going to a different parent's house every week, and it has really become commonplace for me. I pack some items, and switch. And I don't mind it as much as I used to, because I know it's for the better.
Now, I am fortunate in that I have two parents who I love and love me and my sister, otherwise they wouldn't have been so civil during the divorce. Since then, both of my parents have remarried and are very happy, as am I. I know that life could be better, but it could also be much worse, so I'm ever-appreciative of what I have.
Cam Newton
PART 1
ReplyDeleteEvery athlete is bound to face some sort of adversity during their career, it’s inevitable. How that athlete overcomes said adversity is what truly defines them as a person and establishes their character. All athletes have a story to tell, so here is mine.
Some of you have knowledge of my skill at golf. Judging by what I’ve heard, it seems as though everyone thinks that it’s all a nice sparkling success story. It isn’t. It’s actually a dark, emotional struggle that has tested my perseverance and character. One year in particular affected me in ways that a season had never affected me before.
It was the summer of 2012. School had just ended and the new golf season was on the horizon. I had registered to participate in a touring competitive golf program called “Kentucky Junior PGA Tour”. They host many tournaments during the summer that you can sign up to participate in. I had been placed in the advanced division as a 15 year old, playing with guys of any age, typically 16-18. In my first tournament of the year, I stepped onto the tee to find I was paired with a boy who was 18 and was going to play golf at Transylvania in the fall. Even when met with this challenge, I thought to myself, “I’m Chris freaking Hughes, I can beat this guy. No problem.” Of course that wasn’t the case. I came in second place in the tournament with a disgraceful score of 82, ten strokes above par. The trip back to Frankfort wasn’t pretty. There was anger, and plenty of it.
In the next few tournaments, the losses began piling up, and my hope began to shrivel. Now I had arrived upon the final tournament of the season, the Tournament of Champions. I had convinced myself that this is where I would get my good karma and finally have a good showing after the horrible regular season. Again, I was mistaken. Do you know how hard it is to suffer for 6 hours? To watch your dreams fall flat in front of you as you aimlessly attempt to navigate between trees and bunkers and ponds? To finish in last place? I hope none of you do, it’s the most painful experience you can endure. Its mere torture. I wanted to quit golf so bad. I wanted to throw in the towel and send my clubs into the garage to rust. I wanted the pain and suffering to end, and the only way that seemed possible was to give up. When I finally came to my senses, I decided to stick with it one more year, and see if I could find success, just one more year.
-Chris Hughes
PART 2
ReplyDeleteSummer of 2013 had arrived. It was my time to shine and prove to everyone that I am a golfer, and a damned good one at that. My first tournament was in Elizabethtown, where I earned third place with a score of 78, six strokes above par. “That’s it. I am going to win. All of these other players will be asking for my autograph because of the talent that is about to rush over this tour.” I thought to myself. My next tournament was in Shelbyville, where I shot 73 and won by 10 strokes. The next day, I won again. Now I found myself in contention for player of the year. “You can do it Chris. You’ve earned this” I kept telling myself. In my last tournament of the regular season, I found myself in second place overall for player of the year, and I was playing in a tournament with the boy who was in first place. After the dust had settled, I shot 76, he shot 77. Now I had the lead, and the other players shuddered at the mention of my name. Now, I just had to survive the tournament of champions. I finished the tournament with a two day score of 156 (which is quite disgraceful at that) and won player of the year. It took about 2 days before it all resonated in my head that I just beat everyone, I was triumphant, and I was the best, all because I decided to stick with it one more fateful year.
The moral of the story, as cliché as it sounds, never give up. You can never reap the fruits of your efforts if you quit and throw your ambitions away. Success and triumph are born out of adversity and struggle. That’s why they are so admired. At the end of the summer in 2012 I was faced with a choice, to quit or to keep trying. Now you can see the good that that decision has brought to my life. My once dying passion for golf was reignited and is burning bright. Now, instead of being a story of failure, I’m a story of success.
-Chris Hughes
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThe thought of playing an instrument had always intrigued me. The way musicians were able to create such beautiful art from a handheld object. So in the 6th grade when I was given the opportunity to join band but little did I know the challenge it would be. I had picked the flute from a long list of instruments thinking it would be fairly simple and fun but turns out it wasn’t. After only a couple of weeks I hated it and begged my mom to let me quit band or switch instruments. She tried to talk sense into me the way mothers often do by saying “What are you gonna play? Being good at anything takes work.” I thought about it for a second and replied, “But it’s so hard!” “Anything worthwhile is.” She told me. Those words stuck with me.
ReplyDeleteBy Christmas, I had worked hard enough and was able to play the music our band director had given out for our Holiday concert. I was so pleased with myself. It made me so appreciative when my relatives would come up to me and say, “You did so good, I could hear you playing!” Looking back on that now, I know they couldn’t hear me play, hearing a single flute in an ensemble is impossible. However, their words definitely made me ecstatic. I didn’t realize it at the time but what my mom told me, helped me and even motivated me to not give up.
As a junior looking back, I’m so glad my mom was there for me. She had guided me through a challenge and I hope to someday do the same for my kids. Without her advice I wouldn’t have made EKU honor band or have as many amazing friends as I do. I guess the point of this story isn’t really the challenge I faced, it’s the way challenges can work out for good and sometimes bring people together.
-Courtnie Carr
I think it's really cool how you're expressing your appreciation to your parents and family for encouraging you. The challenges you faced in picking up the instrument were things you worked through and that's pretty inspiring for those who may be working through obstacles of their own. A suggestion I would give would be to go into more detail on what you did specifically to improve your flute playing.
Delete-Emilee Agee
I remember simpler times back in elementary school when everybody got along and nobody judged or bullied anybody. There were no “popular” kids or nerdy ones. We were just simple innocent kids. I don't know what happened, but as we got older everything started to change. What was once barren land became the tallest of mountains and deepest of seas (my metaphorical social ladder). The popular kids inhabited the mountains and took over the land, but it was twisted. When did we decide that to be popular we had to hurt others? It is just stupid to think that way. I was stupid to think that way. I don't know what it was but I love the mountains and the people that inhabited it. I loved to be accepted and it is what I thought was most important. Isn't that what every parent wants for their kids?
ReplyDeleteAt our school, they taught us that it was good to be different. Maybe we thought that at one time, but everybody has their own limits on what's too different. For us 8 year olds, too different was a kid named Sam (Sam represents all the people we bullied). Sam probably wanted to fit in just like everybody else, but he was too nice and too smart and exceeded the limits of what our 3rd grade brains thought of as different. He was bullied for it. With words we brought him down. We took apart the foundation underneath his feet, stone by stone, word by word, until he fell. What did we do? What did I do? I watched him fall into the sea, preventing him from ever climbing up our mountain. I watched as the rest of my classmates climbed even higher up the mountains. I, somewhere in the middle, do not want to climb any higher; but I do anyway. I have to fit in.
When middle school came, everything changed. I felt distant from everyone. The classmates I grew up with all my life suddenly seemed different. Confused and lost, I was not sure what to do. It isn't until the sound of my name that I am filled with hope that someone will fill me in on what I missed over the summer. What l thought would be words of reassurance and guidance instead were words of offense, insult, and hate. The words were like a knife, stabbing me in the back. I couldn't breathe. I didn't slip, I was pushed. I was now falling faster than ever before. I was frantically trying to grab hold of anything that could keep me from falling into the sea. I could see my metaphorical mountain disappearing as I got closer to the ground. Until—darkness. No way out.
My name is called. I brace myself for even more hateful words, but it turned out to be the teacher asking me to tell the class about my summer. I stand up but my knees are weak. I start to shake and I can't stop myself, I have no control. I start to speak but my voice shakes just like my knees. My voice is quiet. I feel the eyes of everybody in the class on me, judging me. I start to sweat; I hear my classmates’ voices in my head turning any positive thoughts negative. The thoughts are like poison slowly killing me on the inside. I die a little. I put on a mask and promised myself never to take it off. One must not speak, one must not bring attention to themselves, one must never laugh, smile, or show true emotion. Emotion is what they feed on and I must not give them the satisfaction.
The sea is a dark and cold place. My so called "friends" became the people I disliked the most. My friends were dwellers of the sea and my best friend was Sam. My friends have taught me to never look down on someone, unless you were picking them up. I know deep inside that what they say about me doesn't matter. I am different. Different is good, but also bad. I am myself and that's what scares them, but that's also what scares me. The sea is where I live now, I have learned to love the silence, I have learned to love the cold, but most importantly I have learned to love the land and the sea and the creatures that dwell within them.
Tariq Onodu
More than 55% of high school students play a sport. I used to be a part of that statistic. Sports used to be a big part of my life until I met high school. The pressures society puts on us to play sports, and to having to always be better than that certain person led to me to choose to quit playing sports in high school.
ReplyDeleteI use to be a huge lover of playing basketball. Basketball was life, everything involved me and basketball. In fact, I won the state championship free throw competition in 2011. Sports have been huge through school, as I have played for Bondurant's basketball team every single year, and played for Hill's team my freshman year.
Sports are supposed to be fun. That is the exact opposite of what I was feeling after middle school. We obsess over sports too much, and don't enjoy them anymore. We take them way too seriously. All sports are is politics anymore. Whoever knows someone that is in the hierarchy of the sport makes the team.
My life with sports were full of stress, always wanting to be better than someone else, always wanting to be the best at everything involved with the sport. I have met a happy state in my life at this point. No sports have made my life very calm and a lot happier. But with this being said, I feel like not playing a sport in high school dissociates you with others. I feel people don't feel as highly of you if you don't play a sport. Don't get me wrong, I could care less, but I know that others do. I honestly think this should not be happening, considering how happy I am without playing sports.
Don't get me wrong, I do still love to play sports for fun and to watch them, but I feel so much happier without playing on a high school team. It filled my life with stress, and envy. This choice that I made ended up making my life better, and I have ended up doing better in school, and I am just a happier person in general.
- Dallas Taylor
I’m sure that you all could guess right off the bat that I am going to write about soccer. Well duh, it’s my life. When one thing occupies 90% of your life it is very easy to be faced with many changes and challenges. I have many years to look back over to determine a “major change” or challenge. The unique thing about my topic is that it is both a change and a challenge. Here is my story.
ReplyDeleteI have had a soccer ball at my feet since I could walk. I have played competitively since I was 3. Until recently, I hadn’t noticed my true talent for the game. I have played for many well-known teams around the state of Kentucky, all of which consist of a tryout. AC United, Commonwealth, and LFC have all done amazing things for the development of my game.
All of those seasons, however, I have had very bad, painful, and severe injuries. Ranging from a broken wrist, broken knee, broken ankle, high ankle sprain, and the most recent, a torn hip flexor. Each of these injuries requires me to sit out for AT LEAST 6-8 weeks (maybe not the wrist). That is 6-8 weeks that I am losing that I can spend time practicing and getting myself prepared for my future.
I have had mixed emotions about this scenario. I have considered quitting competitive soccer, playing a different sport, or just sports in general. Did I choose that? Hell No. I took it as motivation and put in the work to make up for those lost months that injury brought upon me. Without the beautiful game, I would be lost in life. That is how you know you are dedicated; if you are willing to fight the battle and get better no matter what.
Personally, I believe that if I had not gotten injured, I would be a much better player. It has completely changed my view on the game, but not my mentality. I am more cautious, but I will continue to work until I make it big. Anything that comes in between me and my game, such as an injury, will only make me push through it and get better.
Currently, I have been invited to play for the River City Rovers, an academy team in Louisville. This club has no tryout. You get scouted and they ask you to come play. When I was invited, I thought to myself, only the best of the best get in, I am going to make a name for myself and play as if I had never been injured at all. Next weekend is my test, as I travel to Florida for a college showcase, where hundreds of coaches will be present. Playing teams from all around the world is going to be very tough. But you all know me, I sure as hell will never let down. I am going to make the coaches notice me, and you all never forget me.
SHOUTOUT TO THE PERSON WHO READS ALL OF THIS. MUCH LOVE.
-C.Rogers
CR10
A challenge for me that I have faced was recently this year. I have been playing basketball since I was 5 years old and have loved the game ever since I saw UK first play on TV. It is my favorite sport by far. But I was faced with a challenge this year about not playing anymore because I had just not felt the same about the game that I loved.
ReplyDeleteI just didn't feel the same about playing it and was actually thinking about walking away from the team. I just enjoyed watching it on TV way more than actually playing it and just didn't feel like I could play anymore and would rather work and get money instead. But the most important thing to me was disappointing my mom or my dad. They have grown up going and supporting me in games and I just didn't want to take that away from them this close to my senior year, I would've felt bad about that.
But the bright thing about talking to my parents about that was they said they wouldn't be upset with me or disappointed in me in any way. They would also still support my decision to walk away from the game that I love.
But in my heart, I made the decision that I felt was best for me and that was playing this year and I couldn't be happier with my decision to continue to play the game I love.
Ian Teasley
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ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
ReplyDeletePart #1
ReplyDeleteAbout seven years ago, I faced one of the biggest changes I have ever faced and probably will ever face. Somebody very close to my heart became addicted to prescription pain killers. Five and a half years ago, during fall break of my sixth grade year at Bondurant, she then decided that she was going to start making trips to Florida once a month to the pain clinic to get the prescription pain killers at a higher dosage because her body had become immune to the ones they prescribe here in Kentucky.
This one change has led me to make choices, face challenges, and deal with multiple changes.
The challenges that I was faced with in the midst of all of this being in action ranged from praying that the electric would be on when I got home, to not being able to tell anybody what was happening. I worried about little things, and big things. Was I going to get dinner that day? Was I going to have clean or even different clothes to wear to school the next day? Would I have electric and hot water that night? Would I get picked up from school, or was she arrested? Where would I be sleeping that night? I faced physical challenges like these, but I also faced other problems. Problems with not feeling safe riding in the car with her, or hoping she would stay awake long enough to actually carry on a simple conversation with me. Would her brain be working at all that day? Only if I was lucky. After facing all of these challenges on my own, without telling anybody because I didn’t want to be torn away from my “best friend” , something bigger happened. The police showed up at my house, the SWAT team looking for her and her boyfriend because they were in trouble. I finally realized that we weren’t staying other places because our house was cold; it was because they were hiding and they just drug me with them.
~Kali Whitaker
Part #2
ReplyDeleteIt was time that I made a choice, before things got any worse. I told my grandmother what was happening and she talked her into letting me stay with her until she was for sure out of trouble. Staying at Meme’s (my grandmother’s) turned into moving in. It was my choice but it lead to challenges of being sacred to go to school because she might try to check me out to get me back, or being scared to go into public because I might run into her or she might try to find me. It was an everyday fight for her to let me stay at Meme’s where I was safe because she despised us with that choice, she did anything to try to get me back. It eventually turned into a forever thing because I made the choice to allow Meme to take it to the court system to get custody, in May of 2013 she officially gained custody and I no longer had to worry about anything but grades, friends, and normal 16 year old stuff; so I thought.
“One of the hardest lessons in life is letting go: Whether it’s guilt, anger, love, loss, etc. Change is never easy, you fight to hold on, and you fight to let go.” –Unknown
There is guilt from not telling somebody earlier so she could maybe get help before everything kept getting worse.
There is anger, just from not knowing why. Why do people feel the need to turn to stuff like that? Why do they like it? What is the point of throwing your life away like that?
There is love, and always will be because she was one of the most important people in my life, and I watched her push everybody away just from one change.
There is loss, because I basically lost her, she’s not the same anymore and she never will be the same. She has permanent affects from them.
I fought for five and a half years on my own, and then fought for her with the family for 2 years because we continued to hold on to the idea that she would wake up one day and realize what she has done; to herself, to her family, and to her life. I still have hopes that she might make something out of it, but I lose more and more hope every day.
I fought to let go, I am still fighting to let go. I have finally begun to realize that I am not doing any good by worrying more than she is. I have to let go. My family and I have done everything in our power to make her realize what she has done and what she is doing, but it just doesn’t work. She refuses to listen. I will never forget when she looked at me and said “I could quit if I wanted to, but I don’t want to. I like it.” That is when I realized that I have to let go, I still haven’t completely, but I am getting there.
~Kali Whitaker
You “know” me… Don’t get me wrong, I love helping other people more than anything, it makes me feel so good, but sometimes, it can be a hassle. My problem? I struggle to say “no”, and that can cause me to take on more than I can handle. I am like a mother, running around to comply with the needs of my infinite flock of children.
ReplyDeleteAs I do with my mother, I am the first person many people run to when they need something. “Toe, I need you to take me to the store, I need you to braid my hair, I need you to pick me up, I need advice, help me out”. I am the first person many people run to demand when they need something. You would think a little consideration of my schedule would be in place… but quite often my children find an excuse as to what I am to demanded to do for someone is more important than what I am doing for myself.
Sometimes, I need help, and I need advice, and I need someone to be there for me. But I don’t let that show, I try to keep a smile on my face and pray it’s contagious. I try to show that I am strong and fearless. A lot of emotions stay bottled in, and sometimes, in the mix of caring for everyone, I start to break down, farther and farther. And that is when I need the most help, and the most advice, and most amount of people to be there for me.
I will always be there at everyone’s beckoning call, because that is just who I am. Nevertheless, once I learn that I am not “super mom” and I can’t take on every task that I am presented with, helping others will be way more enjoyable than it already is.
Torey Hawkins
For a lot of people this is a very relatable topic, it's something that can turn into serious problems, and in a way I sort of felt your pain at one point (sorta.)
DeleteI think it's great though that you've included what you feel you need to fix the problem. As far as the actual piece itself, a more length and bit of indentation would help a lot :D
I had unexplained bruises and scars on my knees and elbows in early elementary school but thought nothing of it given I was very active. We would ask doctors if it was anything to worry about and they didn't seem concerned. It wasn't until I had Mononucleosis in 4th grade that we realized there was something more to the scars and bruises. Turned out that I have Juvenile Dermatomyositis (JDM) a 3 in 1,000,000 autoimmune disease.
ReplyDeleteMy immune system began fighting off the bacteria from mono which took a few weeks but after getting rid of the mono never went back to performing its normal functions. My immune system was still acting like there was something it need to get rid of, but there wasn't. It started eating away at muscle tissue. Soon I was by far the slowest my player on my soccer and couldn't lift my arms over my head. To put a shirt on I would throw it up and catch it on my head then pull it the rest of the way on. I began medication, tests, and physical therapy towards the end of 4th grade.
At the time the disease was active in my body I didn't know that it was unsure if I would walk in the future or how long I would even live. It wasn't until I was put in remission that I knew. I think that was very important in the process of my recovery, not having a doubt that I wouldn't recover. During my recovery one of the medications I was on ate a hole in my stomach and almost ruptured my spleen forcing me into emergency surgery. Nothing ruptured and everything ended up being okay. That surgery was just a minor challenge within the larger challenge of JDM.
Today I have been in remission for a little over a year. With the help of doctors who diagnosed me and led me on the path to recovery as well as many physical therapists and my rheumatoid arthritis specialist in Louisville who helped me through the medication and continues to check up on me annually. I am now healthier and stronger than I was before and most couldn't tell anything was ever wrong with me. Sometimes I even forget I went through all of it.
-Eli Sutton
When coming to high school you should expect new changes, new experiences, new friends, and a whole new level of choices you're eventually going to have to face. I was a freshmen in high school when the choice of drinking knocked on my front door. Of course, like any new freshmen in high school, I think you can guess what my choice was and the outcome was not pretty. But as they say the worst decisions make the best stories. This story is one my friends and I will indeed, never forget.
ReplyDeleteIt all started when one of my friend's had gotten the alcohol and asked me and another friend if we wanted to drink that night. I had never gotten drunk before and couldn't think of a better way to do it than with some friends. So the three of us went back to my house and patiently waited for my mom to go to sleep. Once she was asleep, the fun began. We drank and drank and drank. I'm sure you can assume that this didn't end so well. Not knowing my limits, I drank till I blacked out. But there's a factor that comes into play that we didn't even think about being young and stupid; My mother. At this point one of my friends has initially peed her pants and needs to be cleaned up. So as my other friend takes care of the one who peed her pants they leave me behind in my room. This is where it all went wrong. I bust through the door and attempt to run through out the rest of the house chasing after my friends. Apparently I was a tad bit too loud and ran into a couple of walls, this resulted in my mother waking up in a not so pleasant mood. Apparently my other two friends got an earful from my mom, thankfully I don't remember a thing.
There were many other embarrassing details that could be said but I think I've shared enough for this post. Long story short, we made a stupid decision and got into a large amount of trouble for it. But now that we look back on it we joke around about that night all the time, including my mom. The point is everyone is going to make the wrong choice but our choices make us who we are today. We learn from our mistakes and make some pretty good memories along the way. To me, that's all that matters.
Whitley Bardroff
In sense of an essay, just use more detail if you'd be able to to make it more unique. On a personal note, everyone needs to learn whats a good idea and what isn't, and we all learn through our mistakes. So you made a bad choice, but learned from it and moved on with your life without making it again. So bravo to you Whitley
DeleteTyler Chapman
Courageous. Enthusiastic. Gregarious. Industrious, most importantly, Confident.
ReplyDeleteI used to believe in myself. I might have been the most self-assured person you would come across,
back then.
I used to be self-disciplined. Even when there wasn’t practice, I practiced.
I used to be full of life. Always running to have attention, entertaining the biggest crowd,
back then.
I used to be obedient. You told me to jump, I’d ask how high.
I used to be a leader. When you need someone to step up, I was always there,
back then.
Softball. It’s my thing, my calling you could say. But one year, one of the most crucial years of my career, everything changed.
Who would have thought that I, #5, would let someone, a coach, get in my head.
Who would have thought that I, “princess makay”, would let someone ones words take me down.
Who would have thought that I, Makayla Hawkins, would let someone dull my shine.
But words and actions hurt. Hurt more than I ever knew.
You said I’d never amount to much.
I never left the bench.
You said I wasn’t good enough, and you were right,
I never thought I was.
Cowardly. Apathetic. Timid. Indolent, and most importantly, unsure.
Now, I am misunderstood. I have it in me, I just don’t know where.
Now, I am weak. I have no drive, I can’t push myself.
Now, I am scared. Attention makes me quiver.
Now, I am uncertain. You tell me to jump. I say I can’t.
Now, I am hidden. I can’t lead others until I can lead myself.
I am not who I used to be. And for some, you never knew, because part of my final fight was to not let this show through. I didn’t want to change as a person, I liked the life I lived, but for some reason I couldn’t hold on. But there was one thing I could do. I pretended for so long that I was the same athlete that I was. But I wasn’t. And I’m still not.
- Makayla Hawkins
Sixteen candles on the cake, burning, as you breathe in to prepare yourself to extinguish them. Turning sixteen is a milestone that I had looked forward to ever since I could remember. I had it built up in my mind that it was some grand occasion; that this one day, this one birthday in particular could transform your life. It did bring about a change in my life, one that I never could have expected.
ReplyDeleteExcitement had filled me as I stood in line at the county clerk’s office to fill out the necessary paperwork to take the drivers permit test. My legs were shaking as the lady behind the counter asked for two forms of identification. The paperwork was filled out and my sister and I were told to go down the hallway to find the testing room. I had read the drivers manual carefully and felt confident in my abilities to pass the test. I walked into the room first and was told to sit down, that I would be taking the vision test now. Easy I thought to myself. My last visit to the eye doctor had given my comfort in this portion of the test as I had twenty-twenty vision in both eyes. I pressed my head against the bar. Everything was blurry. Something had to be wrong. I pressed my forehead against the bar with more pressure this time. Nothing changed. What had happened? What had changed in two years? Why was I not able to decipher the letters and numbers? I had to leave the testing room, feeling defeated, as Rachel went on to pass and receive her permit. My mom tried to comfort me by telling me nothing was wrong. Something had to be wrong.
A few weeks later, I visited the eye doctor terrified. I was positive that I would leave that building with horrible news. My mind always wanders to the most extreme conclusions, and it had not skipped this opportunity. The appointment started like all the others. I was placed in a room to stare at a wall and describe the letters and numbers I saw. My left eye like usual had no problem reading the last row. Now, my right eye’s turn. The ease turned to struggle. I was only able to read a couple of lines. It was shocking to see the dramatic difference that closing one eye could make. With my mind creating stories, I felt as if I was going to throw up. The next step was the numbing of my eyes, which I usually hate, but with everything else that was going on, it seemed like a piece of cake. Sitting in the waiting room, silently, eyes dilated, thinking about how ironic it is that they have magazines out here, I finally accept that no matter the outcome I have to live with it.
The doctor motions for us to follow him for an additional examination. He waits until the very end of the appointment to even mention the rapid change that my eye has gone through. He isn’t certain but his diagnosis is keratoconus. Keratoconus is a disease that affects the shape of the cornea. With this disease, the normal clear, dome shape of the cornea transitions into a thin, cone shape which causes blurred vision and sensitivity to light. It continues to get gradually worse. At the beginning, its effects can be partially mediated by glasses, but as time goes on it requires a corneal transplant. Me being the squeamish person that I am, hearing the word transplant caused my heart to skip a beat.
Additional testing is needed, but at this time all I could do was get glasses. With glasses ordered the next step was specific testing to map my eye. Appointments were set up, tests were completed, and the results were in. Now I had a visual to explain the difference between my left eye and my diseased eye. I had visuals that showed the difference in elevation between an eye with kertoconus and one without. The proof was right there in the red, hourglass shaped regions. The realization that at some point I may lose the remaining vision in my right eye hits me.
At the age of sixteen I am faced with a change and a challenge that 1 in every 1,500 experience.
~ Madison Wallace
As you may know I am not a very talkative or loud person, I like to keep to myself unless I know you very well and feel very comfortable around you. I’m not you what would call a “people person” and is that such a bad thing? I’m not going to walk right up to you and be the best of friends with you, I like to figure out what makes you tick and how you approach things before I let my wall down towards you. It takes a while for me to warm up to you, that doesn’t mean I’m going to bed rude to you right off the bat- you’ll just be at arm’s length. My constant challenge day to day is trying to have a middle ground between a “quiet person” and a “social person”, some people think that if you are a quiet person you automatically don’t have any friends or social skills and this may be true for some people but not for me.
ReplyDeleteBeing a quiet person is not classified as being socially impaired in my book rather just someone who rather watch first then do. I want to be social and have friends but at times-yes, I don’t want to constantly be talking to someone or be the center of attention. I don’t mind people saying “why are you so quiet?”, “why don’t you talk much?”, or “your just a quiet person, I understand” because really if they actually knew me, you would know that I’m a different person than that. I struggle to have a balance between being more vocal and my current personality because I don’t want people thinking that I’m a stuck up person because I don’t speak to them or that I don’t like them, I just don’t at that time don’t have anything in particular to say, so I feel like I shouldn’t say anything at all.
I’d like to right my wrongs to anyone that thinks I don’t like them; it’s not that at all I just have trouble with letting people in before I know them. This challenge goes along with my quiet personality as I don’t right away want to know your life story or even small talk because it makes me uncomfortable and you probably too, because I am very awkward at times. I do come out of my shell every now and then and I am proud of myself when I do so because I know that person who I had just talked too, I made them smile or laugh. I admit I am not an easy person to like or be friends with but is it such a bad thing to only have a few close friends or people rather than a bunch of people that say they are your friends but not really. I like to think that my personality is almost a defense mechanism that lets me think I am staying away from the people that will mostly like hurt me or some sort of that outcome. In reality it’s just a way to hide my real personality from other people. I can truthfully say I act different when I’m with my friends or family than I do at when I’m with my peers.
To overcome this challenge of being an unbalanced person with two different personalities I became involved in many clubs and organizations through my high school years. The most impactful one was being thoroughly involved with FFA, it has truly changed my life in many different ways. Through this is I am able to be more vocal of my thoughts and opinions as well as forming new relationships with many people so that I can truly come out of my shell. I don’t want to be known as the “quiet girl” but as the quiet girl that was also social and friendly. Some people may not classify this as a challenge for them but it is for me and I try each and every day to balance my personality rather than being an extreme of the other and this may always be a challenge for me but that doesn’t mean it should hold me back from being who I am.
Bailey Bishop
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ReplyDeletePart 1
ReplyDeleteI’m sure almost everyone can say that they’ve been through a challenge of some sort, had a type of change in their life, or had to sit down and take the time to make a choice. These three things are constantly happening within our lives. I would like to share a something personal that has happened in my life where all three of the “C’s” came into play. Not a lot of people know what I am about to write and I’m sure of you all will be shocked by it too. Here it goes…
First, let me explain how people see me. The girl who is very talkative. The girl who doesn’t have any problems. The girl who has it pretty good. The girl who can take people’s jokes but it really does hurt her deep down. The girl who will straight up how it is regardless. Some of those assumptions are right and some are mistaken by many. There has been one constant struggle that I’ve hidden pretty much my entire life.
My dad and I haven’t had much of a relationship pretty much my entire life. Yes, my parents are still married and we all live together, but my dad and I never really talk. As a child, all of my good and fun memories are with my mom. As I began to grow up I finally started to understand why my dad and I didn’t have a good relationship, why he was hardly ever there for me. My dad is an alcoholic. He is not physically abusive but more emotionally. Just imagine, someone who is supposed to love you and protect you and raise you into the adult you will be one day calling you worthless, saying they wished they never had you as a daughter. Telling you that you were a mistake. Yes, it hurts more than anyone can ever imagine. That little saying, “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me” is total bullshit. Words hurt. I’m pretty sure everyone can agree to that. There have been countless of times where I would believe the things that he has said. I would question things like “Why am I here if he hates me so much? How could my mom let him do this to me? If I am so worthless why am I even alive?” Needless to say I have overcome the struggle of asking myself those questions. Yes, it has affected who I am as a person but it does not define me. It is the reason why I usually keep things all bottled up inside. The reason why it’s hard for me to trust people. The reason I am so hesitant to let people into my life because I’m scared they’re going to just walk out on me whenever it is convenient for them. Most people couldn’t even imagine that this would be going on in my life. I try to be a happy, positive person who always has a smile upon her face. I tend to not share personal things with people because I feel as though I will look weak or be judged. This would be considered the challenge/change I have faced my entire life and I am still facing it to this day.
My dad’s problem has obviously made me make various choices. As a teenager I have learned that I cannot let my dad’s problem stop me from being Hannah. I can’t let it stop me from achieving my future goals in my life. I can’t let it determine my future and my life. Statistics do show that alcoholism does indeed run in families. I am not going to let some silly statistic tell me that I am going to one day end up like my father. The biggest and most important choice I have made with this situation is coming to terms with my dad’s problem and accepting it. Very few people know this but I have actually been attending therapy to just have someone different to talk to. No, just because I go and see a therapist doesn’t mean I’m psychotic or anything like that. I just simply have someone else to talk to about my situation other than my mom and various friends who I chose to share with. Learning to accept my dad’s problem and knowing that I can’t stop it no matter how hard I try.
-Hannah Tice
Part 2
ReplyDeleteBasically to sum it all up, I have been through hell and back in my sixteen years of living. Not going to lie about that. I have finally accepted the fact that you cannot help someone who wants to be helped or change someone who doesn’t want to change. I have realized that his problem is not because of me. Many of times I have questioned if it was. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love my dad more than anything. I have begged him countless of times to stop or to try and get help. He says he will but let me tell you, actions DO speak louder than words. He will always be my dad and I cannot change that. Now that I have accepted my dad’s problem, it has lifted a million pound weight off my shoulders. Now I worry about Hannah and Hannah only. I am now focused on only my problems and only my future.
-Hannah Tice
There are many different topics I could talk about that have changed my life, but there is one in particular that I would like to talk about. It is the divorce of my parents. Now I know this is a very common topic to talk about, but this is the biggest change I’ve had to face in my life so far. Most kids whose parents are still together think that a divorce isn’t a huge deal, but it really does take a toll on your life as a whole.
ReplyDeleteMy whole life growing up, my parents would fight all the time. At least two or three times a week, I would have to listen to them going back and forth. It was usually my dad who would start the arguments. He is a control freak, so if something doesn’t go his way, he snaps which quickly results to him screaming at the top of his lungs. I’m pretty sure he has an anger issue. After a month of nothing but fighting, my dad decided to move out for a month or so to see if he could calm his anger down. Once he was back in the house again, everything seemed as if had resolved itself. They were getting along greatly and he wasn’t yelling at all. I couldn’t be happier with what I was seeing. I would soon figure out that this wouldn’t last forever. Things started to get bad again and before too long, they were as worse as they had ever been. My dad was constantly yelling and we couldn’t seem to find any solution to it so my mom finally decided to take charge.
In the middle of my sixth grade year, my mom decided that she was going to move out, but this time, for good. Of course my dad was not in favor of her choice, but there was nothing he was going to do to stop her. After school one day, they sat down my brother and I to tell us the news. Even though we weren’t shocked, we were still heartbroken. After she moved out, I just felt kind of lost in the world. Moving from house to house every few days was really hard to get used to. I would forget things I needed for school all the time which would make my dad angry that he would have to go back. Every time I went to his house, we would always end up arguing over something stupid.
I never thought that things would work out between my parents, but after a few years, they have actually started to get along better. My mom remarried a couple of years ago and he is a really good guy. He treats her great which is exactly what she deserves. I just wanted my mom to be happy and now that she finally is, I am too.
-Grayson Arnold
As I prepare to write this post, I realize how fortunate I really am; and actually feeling a bit guilty for what I’m going to write. I’m not your average girl, I have married parents both of whom love me unconditionally, I have never rebelled in any way, nor have I dealt with the death of someone I am extremely close with, I enjoy to public speaking and I am an extremely active member in my favorite clubs. Hearing outer personal stories opposite of mine touch your heart, while inter personal stories like mine seem minute, however my story is a constant burden to me.
ReplyDeleteChoices are made every day. Large or small, every choice we make has an effect on our life which is often followed by a challenge.
It seems like my whole life I have always run full speed with school, dance class, travel team and school dance practices, basketball, working sheep, FFA events and the Franklin County 4-H livestock club. My parents have always been asked, “How do you keep up with everything?” And their response is always a simple, “It’s just our life.” And yes, it is just the way we have always chosen to live our lives and I would not have it any other way.
Approaching this school year, I was aware that the amount of pressure on me was at a new high. It was the year where taking multiple AP classes would begin, as well as taking the ACT and looking at colleges, all while trying to manage being in many places at once with all of my extracurriculars. I made the choice to not tryout for the travel dance team I had danced on since the 7th grade, hoping that by cutting out two practices a week and monthly competitions my time would be a bit more open and I would be able to focus on the new challenges junior year was bringing me. At the time, I was not happy with my decision. I felt like I was letting down my team, as well as no longer being able to satisfy my lifelong passion.
We are now well into this school year, and I cannot imagine adding two practices and monthly competitions back into my schedule. The work load I have received this year as well as the demands from my coaches, teachers, and advisors have all been extremely challenging and overwhelming. Never have I been so ready to give up and quit everything at once. Never have I ever truly no longer cared. I have realized that all of this has diminished my normally positive mindset. It makes it hard for me to continue going forward with what is required for school, extracurricular activities and my future.
I often claim that next year I will “go out with a bang,” and try to be my absolute best in many extracurricular activities for the last time, rather than stressing on what I cannot change. I plan to make that claim become true… as soon as I figure out how.
Grace Higgs
Part One
ReplyDeleteIn band, we are always being pushed so we can be the best we can. Marching band starts us off easily so we get used to playing again after our summer break since we know that not all of us practice. Then as the year progresses, we begin getting audition music for various honor bands. Mrs. Wallace encourages us to audition because she knows that participating in more activities and playing more in general will make us better players. There are several honor bands that we are given the option to audition for. The first audition is for All-State Band. This music is challenging and forces you to practice hard if you actually want to make it past the first cut. Since the music is challenging, not many people look at it because they don't even want to try. They start off with the attitude that they won't make it. That is how I have looked at it my freshman and sophomore year. Freshman year I didn't even look at it. I just wanted to get used to playing harder music and get comfortable being in high school. Then sophomore year I wanted to at least look at it and be able to play it even if I decided to not try out. Since I wasn't going to try out, I ended up not even looking at it. I just gave up while others were putting in the time to practice and they went to audition. I knew that if I would have actually put the work into it, I could have auditioned and become a stronger player. That is why this year I decided to step it up and audition and it was a challenge for me.
We received the music and I went ahead and marked all the notes that were sharp or flat according to the key signature. I had the music for a few weeks and never took it out of my folder to play. Then the clarinet section began having lessons with a new instructor. He asked me if I have looked at the music and I said no. He was a very different teacher from our last one. He pushes you and actually helps you to play. So for my next lesson, he gave me a goal to have at least looked at it and have an idea of how it should sound and how the rhythms go. If we hadn't started lessons, I probably would have chickened out like last year.
So I began to work on it. For pretty much any audition that I have seen, there is normally a slow piece and a fast piece. For the slow piece you need to pay attention to details like dynamics (loud and soft) and pretty much just making sure it flows. For the faster piece, you should pay attention to details such as getting it up to the speed that is given for you and focus primarily on articulations. I worked really hard on the lyrical piece because the key signature was a bit harder than what I have played before, so I wanted to make sure that I had all the notes right. I spent less time on the faster one which was a huge mistake. When auditions came closer, I was rushing myself to be able to play it and for it to sound good. Unfortunately it wasn't coming together like I had hoped it would. It sounded decent but I know I could have played better.
~Ashleigh Johnson~
Part Two
ReplyDeleteI do not audition well. Since middle school, I have always had a fear of playing in front of people. My breathing gets all ragged and I begin to shake uncontrollably. That trend continued into high school. I know that I can play the music well but when I start to play and people are actually listening, I freak myself out. I knew that if I did not play in front of people, my fear would not go away and I definitely would not make it past first cut. So I played my music for my clarinet instructor, some friends and my mom. When I played for them, I was completely fine and it was just like I was playing by myself. Then the auditions came and I was actually excited to play. I know that I have come a long way from the beginning of the year and just wanted to do what I could do. When it was my turn to play, I began with the slow piece. Everything was fine. My breathing was a little uneven but I wasn't shaking. Then the faster piece was next and that is when I started to freak out. I knew that it was not going to be good. So, I did what I could do and finished until the end. Once I was finished, I was satisfied with what I did. A huge weight was lifted off of my shoulders. Now all I had to do was wait for the results.
Once the results came, I was informed that I did not make the first cut. Of course I was upset but I understood. I didn't push myself and practice like I should have been. I was always making excuses as to why I couldn't practice. Even though I did not make it, I was proud of myself for at least trying and actually auditioning which is much more than I have done the past years. I still have one more year to try and I know now not to put it off. Trying out for All-State was a challenge for me and even though I did not succeed in making it, I have come a little closer and have certainly become a better player.
~Ashleigh Johnson~
Let me be honest with you. I can think of nothing of any real consequence to write about. I have never seriously played a sport, I have never really had a big defining moment of success or failure in my life. Nor have I encountered many of the hardships some of you have faced here. My life has been cushy and sheltered and safe. That in mind, please excuse any language that you may find condescending, unchallenged, boring or otherwise stupid.
ReplyDeleteIn the fifth grade I was what most would call a huge nerd. I never fit in, never had a consistent group of friends, and was very awkward. Sometime in the course of the early months of 2008, some kids were selected (I'm not sure whether it was grades, teacher recommendation, recommendation from other students or whatever) to take a test to be on our school's academic team.
At the time I didn't think much of it. I took the test and went on about my life. A few days later, one of the coaches (another fifth grade teacher), passed around letters to the few who made it. I was ecstatic when I didn't get the letter because I thought I wasn't good enough and that it would be a waste of my time.
A few days after that I was pulled aside and told that I had made the team and that they for some reason they hadn't printed out a paper for me. I still thought it was a waste of my time, but I went to the practices anyway. As I went, I got better and better and eventually, I was the Social Studies District Champion. I was very proud of myself and was finally happy to be on the academic team.
As many know, I am still on the academic team today and we are league champions for the second time in three years and I'm still not having any second thoughts about the decision I made back in the fifth grade.
-Evan Hatter
Part 1
ReplyDeleteWhen I was deciding on a topic to write for this, the first thing that came to mind was “what it’s like living life one-handed” but then I thought, well this is just what everyone would expect me to write about, it’s going to be really boring and going to state things that they already know. Then Harper brought to my attention that you all might know most of what’s on the surface, but there’s a lot of things that you all may not know. I started thinking and she was completely correct. So here I am, going to try to give you some insight into what its like living without a limb.
When I was born, I picked up a lot of things simply by instinct. I learned to tie my shoes before Annie, I learned to button and zip my own clothes, I learned to put up my hair, all of these things I learned to do on my own. They may not seem like big things to any of you all, but to me these were really big accomplishments. Nowadays I seem to make a lot of things look easy even when they may not be. Some people tend to forget that I have one arm, because I can usually figure out a way to do anything, and it’s okay because on occasionally I do too. I really dislike it when people ask me, “Do you need help with that?” . It makes me feel as though I am helpless.I know, everyone needs help at some point in their lifetime, but when everyone else seems fully capable of something I want to say that I can do it on my own as well.
It’s not always been super easy. I’m the person that likes to prove people wrong. If they say that I can’t do something; I want to come back and do it ten times better than they expected me to do it. I have wanted to do many things but they are things that normally would require two hands, but when has that ever stopped me? I really wanted to learn to play guitar in the fifth grade; so I decided to give it a try. I went out a bought myself a shiny, red bass guitar ( Bass? Really?... I was obsessed with the Naked Brothers Band at the time and if you don’t get the reference look it up). Then I thought, “How am I supposed to play this?” . The guitar ended up sitting in my room for a good three weeks before I decided to venture up to Shriners to see if they could help me. Well they came up with a device that, in the end, didn’t even end up working correctly so the guitar sat in my room until the beginning of Sophomore year. For some reason I decided that I wanted to try the whole guitar thing out again. I went out and traded the bass for an acoustic guitar. I had been watching this girl on YouTube, April Lockhart (Look her up she is really awesome), she is an amputee as well; I had this idea that maybe if I could get a prosthetic that was similar to the one she used then I would be able to play as well as she can. I took another trip back to Shriners to see if I could get something similar. Well, they said that because her arm was a few inches longer then it wouldn’t work the same way, “A few inches really makes a difference”, they told me. So, we went an alternative route and found an attachment that we could put on a previously made prosthetic. I used it for a while, and where I wasn’t used to the weight of the prosthetic it just didn’t sound and work like it should have. So now I’m back at square one with nothing. I will, of course, keep trying, but it’s just frustrating when things don’t turn out like I think they will. There have been many other times that something hasn’t come quite as easily as I expected it to, the guitar story is just one of many examples.
• Caroline Cunningham •
Part 2
ReplyDeleteBeing born without an arm may seem like a challenge to me at times, but when I go to I-CAN (a summer convention for amputees, a.k.a. International Child Amputee Network) and I see people missing all four limbs I honestly feel slightly guilty for ever doubting that I can’t do anything. It’s so inspiring to see them live as though they don’t need help at all. For amputees in general I think we have to face the challenge of informing society that although some things may be inconvenient for us we are fully capable of doing anything we set our minds to. It’s hard for people to really understand, especially children, we get looks and stares every time we go out in public and I’m not gonna lie, it does hurt at times; I feel as though I’m like an alien or something, but It’s not something that I can change about myself so I just have to kind of look past it and know that their opinions shouldn’t matter to me. On occasion I will give these people “the evil eye”, but only if I believe it’s deserved; Like when they blatantly say “what’s wrong with her”... I’m not blind, nor deaf contrary to your belief and nothing is “wrong” with me.
I just hope that one day the world will be able to accept everyone for who they are, because a lot of us can’t change, and I hope that those who are different in any way know that they should not be ashamed of who they are.
• Caroline Cunningham •
I think your story is really something people should pay attention to. Not in a strange creepy way, just because it's special on its own compared to what someone's common idea of you would be. You haven't really "lost" anything, you've gained what im sure the majority of teenagers lack:
DeleteThe will to actually do something they want to do and not give up if it doesn't work at first. People should really learn from that, and your essay itself doesn't need a huge amount of work on the content. You have a point and you stick with it. just a bit of organization and it'll be spot on. Nice job.
Tyler Chapman
My challenge may sound a little silly to say it's my biggest struggle in life.
ReplyDeleteYou know when you get to that one point in the year, every year when that one teacher seems to be dying to know the answer to the ever so repeated question: "What do you want to be when you grow up?"
That's one thing I hate to answer, it used to be so simple; "An Astronaut" which when I was 7 years old sounded like a never ending trampoline in space and now sounds crazy to me. Or "The President of The United States of America" which then sounded like "I get to tell you what to do, and you, and everyone get's money, no war, just nice, happy people! It now looks like the express route to gray hair, chief of worries, and one of Americas most hated to some.
The question becomes more real and dreadful for me to answer each year. Another load of stress to pack around.
As a junior in high school this year, I know the time to play around with careers is close to an end; going into my senior year I want to have a roadmap with a checklist for everything I need to accomplish on it.
This is a big choice for me, I need to have a good career, one that I can always easily find a job in so that I can have a good income and a nice life!
But my decision that I will finally have to make will change me in various ways, how quickly I work, how serious I am, how my attitude will be, etc.
I can't remember the last time this question didn't pound in my head like a drum. All I know is I'll be glad when it's all over, when I'm older and everything is in place. I think I'll be a much happier person, not that I won't have things that need to be done or a freeway out but a better grasp on things and how they will be.
-Kendra .H.
Going back through the time line of my life, my split family connects to so many dashes. Growing up, my father would threaten leaving again and again, fulfilling his words on multiple occasions. At age six, I remember that pattern of threatening, returning, and then threatening again ended with a divorce. From then on, my life changed even more. Joint custody where my two sisters and I had to switch back and forth every other day and weekend influenced everything I did and shaped my character. My step-mom and half-brother came along shortly after altering my life even more. These changes, like blocks, kept building off each other and resulted in a character that I am proud of.
ReplyDeleteThis all started when my small first grade mind had to try and comprehend why my mommy and daddy wouldn't live with each other anymore and why I had to continuously switch from house to house. I was lucky to have my two sisters as a backbone to help me adjust, but it still seemed hectic and confusing. Being passed off between houses made it difficult to keep up with my things. If I left something at my dad’s house, like my glasses or some homework, I couldn't get it back until his next designated day. For any of you who wear glasses or contacts, you probably know the kind of headache you get for not wearing them for a day or two. I had to become organized and less forgetful. This was a lesson I learned fast. If I forgot to bring something from house to house, I would have to live without it until I got the opportunity to retrieve it.
The news of getting a new step-mom and little brother came around the same time. My dad and step-mom, Missy, got married a few years after my parents’ separation, followed by my little half-brother, Jacob, about half a year later. I don’t really remember my reaction to getting a new step-mom but I was ecstatic to be getting a little brother. I remember watching Jacob as a baby. I remember going to the hospital and getting to hold him for the first time. He was so small and cute. I tried to be careful not to break him. The memories of watching or helping your little brother or sister grow up are what makes having a younger sibling so great, even though there was a stinky diaper or two.
Having to switch back and forth made it difficult to do activities. I started participating in dance classes at a young age and continued on for many years until our schedules just got too hectic. My mom loved to watch our dance recitals and would always enroll me and my sisters in dance classes, but if I wanted to take a class that was on my dad’s night, I wouldn't get the chance to dance that year. With having to commute between Frankfort and Versailles and then later Frankfort and Lawrenceburg, neither of my parents wanted to give up their precious time with any of the three of us, but as time progressed we figured out a schedule that worked and made everything run smoother while also giving us the opportunity to do more activities.
Remembering whose holiday is whose and keeping schedules straight are difficult especially with my sisters and I being the messengers between my mom and dad, but divorce and joint custody has still taught me a lot of things. I have become more organized throughout my life. I have also had the joy of watching my now 7 year old brother grow up. On top of watching my brother grow, I learned what my priorities are, especially when I have to coordinate my schedule with both parts of my family. I may not get to do everything I want but I make time for the most important stuff, my family and my friends.
Rachel Wallace
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
ReplyDeleteThrough out my life have made many changes or set high goals for myself. Many people like to talk about all of there great accomplishments in their life. But I feel that my most important accomplishments are being set up right now. I began this challenge my freshmen year when I joined the baseball team.
ReplyDeleteIt was fair to say that I was a below average ball player. But if I learned anything from that year it was how to be great teammate and keep your team in the game. It didn't matter weather I was on the feild or in the dugout, I wanted to be the loudest on the diamond.
Though no matter how much I want for my team I always strive to be the guy standing out as a role model. But I'm not. At least not yet. My freshman year was a great year as a feilder but it was safe to say I was a sub par hitter. I tried my hardest to learn to hit exactlly how the coaches taught me but it just never worked.
The season ended for jv in the finals that year. I didnt play much that tournament but I just kept to what I knew as a good teammate.
My sophomore year has probably been the most important year for me because I finally figuered out what kind of ball player I was. I figuered out how to use my speed to my advantage by singles and the thing I'm most popular for, the drag bunt.
I dont think that many ball players are known for it. I began using in games and it turned into what was almost an automatic hit. It's no line drive, or a homerun its a ten foot dribbler right down the third base line but it was a base hit. When I batted in games it was what I did in all of my first at bats.
I also found myself to be a more mature player as well. I began getting key plays and hits in the big jv wins and always try keeping my team in the game. The jv went on to win the district championship while our varsity falls short.
Many people would say not my fault we lost I did'nt play. But I want to win so bad that I can't help feeling that it partially is my fault. I tell myself that I need to be doing more to help the team win by getting better and playing varsity. I need key catches and hits for them too.
I'm no JT Riddle but I strive to be my own ball player and play the game the way I'm supposed to. I've played jv two years now but this year with some extra cuts and extra fly balls in the grass, I am determined to become the best ballplayer I can be and bring my team a title this year.
Davis Nesselrode #6
PART 1
ReplyDeleteIt is a truth universally known that a swimmer the age of sixteen must be in want of a job as a lifeguard. Obviously you don't have to be, but most are. I did it because I could, I swam for about 9 years, I would have time since it was the summer, I had already been certified, I got paid well for my first job, the only thing I was really concerned with was trying not to get sunburnt too bad, too many times. The job was simple, until it wasn't.
Most guards go their entire career without having to jump in to save someone. Some jumped in to help kids to the edge of the pool if they couldn't make it. It was never too extreme. They would fill out an incident report and the day would continue. It was my first year as a guard, what was the chance that I would have to jump in?
I remember the build up to seeing the girl all too clearly. I just finished telling some young boys not to flip into the pool from the three foot, I started to scan the pool just like we are trained to do. When I saw her my heart vaporized. She was floating on the surface of the pool, arms in front of her head. At first I panicked, then I told myself to calm down, I had seen kids do it at least fifty times before, they would put their face in the water to blow bubbles and look at the bottom of the pool. If I waited a few more seconds she would come up, but that icky feeling in my stomach didn’t leave. I waited for what felt like an eternity, but at that point adrenaline had replaced my blood. “Any second now...” I thought, “You’re gonna come up right?... right? ... no?... No.”
I knew what to do at that point. I stood and blew the whistle as loud as I could. I heard it echo around for just a moment. Everyone turned and looked at me and that was awful. The entire pool turn around and looked at me in horror. I would like to tell you I swooped down from the chair, seized the guard tube from the chair, and flew to her like the superhero I wish I was. But I didn’t. I stumbled from the chair, seemed to play tug o’ war with the chair over the guard tube, and jumped into the water. When I got to her I threw her over the tube and went back to find every single person standing near where I was bringing her. I turned the girl around and put her hands up for a fellow guard and her day care teacher to get her out of the pool. When we got her out of the pool everyone moved in towards her at once. Anger and fear flared up in me and erupted from me. These people were in the way and I couldn’t have that. I started yelling, “Everyone GET BACK!” And they parted like the red sea. I called Kirsten who yelling at someone to call 911 “I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU AREN’T RUNNING RIGHT NOW!” She then came over to me, took her pulse and check for breathing. I didn’t need to, she was already blue, most of the guards thought she was already dead. For some reason I didn’t, my mind was running fast but that thought didn’t turn up. Then the wailing started, tens of kids just started bawling, and in that moment I wanted to do the same. If she died it would all be on me. “No,” I thought, “I’m not living with that for the rest of my life. God, if you have taken her, you are going to give her back. She is young she has so much to live for, I can’t be the reason that she doesn’t.” Kirsten walked over to me, I didn’t even ask if she showed signs of life, I pointed to her, “Chest compressions.” I said. Then to myself, “Breathing.” She nodded her head and we went to work.
Dove DeNigris
PART 2
ReplyDeleteSomeone brought me a breathing mask, and Kirsten began compressing her chest. After the appropriate number of chest compressions I attempted to do rescue breaths but she started vomiting into the mask. I couldn’t continue doing that otherwise I would force her to choke on her own vomit. So I took off the mask and started sweeping the vomit from her mouth. Kirsten continued doing chest compressions and I was wondering where on heaven and earth the ambulance was. Our manager, Mrs. Caldwell, came up and helped us revive her. I started yelling at her trying to call her back into the world. I heard the sirens and thanked God in heaven. Then she took a breath and everyone in the pool realized they could as well. A few seconds later, an EMT came running in, took her in his arms, and just as quickly was gone.
Me, Kirsten, and Mrs. Caldwell stood and just stood there for a while. The guards came up to us and consulted with us about the ordeal. We were swapping stories and saying what was going through our minds at the moment. People were hugging me thanking me and I was just thankful that we got a happy ending. I started to go into shock, I was shaking and got really cold. Me and Kirsten went to the bathroom to wash our hands and a woman came in telling us that the police were wanting to know what happened. We went out there and told the story, then the hospital called wanting to know how long she was unconscious, I told them as best as I could, they told me she was fine, that she was breathing before she got into the ambulance. Kirsten gave me a long sleeve shirt since I was freezing and when it all settled down, we went and filled out an incident report. When that was done, we sat at the guard table. Concession stand workers cam over with some cookies asking if anyone wanted some to brighten their day. My hand shot up and everyone concurrently said “Take them all.” The pool decided to close for the day, but there was a party that night so they were going to bring in some guards for that. I can’t count the number of hugs I got that day, or the ones I gave out. Fact is I just wanted to be held and told everything was alright.
People were shocked when they found out it was me. My blood family and church family were floored. People asked me if I was there when it happened when I told them what I did as a summer job and I would shyly say I was the one that got her out. If you don’t believe any of this, look it up on Google. This incident in my life was all three of these. It was a change, a turning point in my life. Kirsten and I got a lot of recognition for it. It is the most important thing that has ever happened to me. It was a challenge that got thrust upon me. I wasn’t sure if I deliver this young back to the land of the living when she was floating in between it and whatever you want to think you go to when you die, I like to think heaven but I also like to think that God had it all planned out, that she had unfinished business here that He wanted her to carry out. It was my choice to not give up when everyone thought she was gone.
Dove DeNigris
PART ONE
ReplyDeleteWhen Mrs. Hill first presented this topic as our blog post I must admit I freaked out a little bit. I always considered myself a fairly “normal” teenager who hasn’t really faced many difficult challenges or choices in their life. Then I realized, I’ve dealt with a challenge nearly every day of my life since I was in 3rd grade. It has come so accustom to me that I hardly recognize it as challenge, it has become more of a lifestyle.
When I was a child I began to notice abnormal stomach pains all throughout the day. The thought of it ever becoming anything more than a mere stomach ache never crossed my mind. Eventually, the pain became constant and unbearable. It hardly ever went away. My parents were concerned but not enough to take me to the doctor just yet. Of course if anyone knows my dad, he’ll tell you that “She’s fine, she’s just over reacting. It’s not anything serious.” I wanted to believe that but a part of me knew there was something seriously wrong with me.
After months of continuous pain and no sign of it getting any better, a new symptom came into play. I began to notice blood in my stool (yes, I’m aware that is quite disgusting but it’s nothing I can control.) That very moment my mother picked up the phone and immediately called the hospital. Of course as a third grader I was pretty convinced I was dying. But I was quickly assured that was not the case.
Heather Fry
Of all of the many different things that I could write about that has possibly changed my life (such as almost dying in an explosion), I'll choose the one that has had the largest effect on my life. I'm talking about starting high school. The transition for most people was very easy, but for me, it changed my self esteem dramatically. For all of you that knew me in middle school, they knew me as the soft-spoken, fat kid that only had 1 true friend to my name. I used to believe that the only true measure of someone's worth was by how many friends they have. I tried so hard every day just to make people happy and put a smile on their faces, just so that they may one day call me their friend. Whenever I made someone angry or upset, I'd think about it non-stop and try everything just to make them like me again. It got to the point to where I put more concern into other people's feelings before my own, I didn't care about myself, just everyone else. When I first started high school, I was doing the same thing I did in middle school. Needless to say, just about everyone noticed this "disability" of mine and started making fun of me. With me trying to make people possibly like me, I started making fun of myself only to lower my self-esteem. Then one day, I made fun of myself in my English class, and a person whom I am now very good friends with asked me "Why do you make fun of yourself? Don't you know that people only view you as you view yourself?" This question had me thinking for a while, a whole day in fact. Making people happy at my expense was the only thing that I knew to do in order to make people like me. How could I change this? The next day, I asked them "But what if people don't like me, how do I make them like me?" They answered back " You can't make anyone like you. People only like people who like themselves, and if they don't like you, then **** them." With these few simple sentences, I managed to change myself into this wonderful person that I am today!
ReplyDelete-Donovan Billings :3
PART TWO
ReplyDeleteAfter months of blood tests, hospital visits, and meeting several different doctors they finally reached a diagnosis. By the beginning of my fourth grade year I was diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis. For many people who are unaware of what Ulcerative colitis is, it’s a serious chronic inflammatory disease of the large intestine. It is known for causing severe stomach pain, nausea, chills, and frequent trips to the restroom. Being diagnosed with this terrified me. I thought I would never be able to live a normal life anymore. I had to completely change my lifestyle in order to feel the least bit better.
As I grew older my doctor decided to go in depth about what my future with Ulcerative Colitis could consist of. She told me that being a person with this disease gave me a higher chance of developing colon cancer. That may have been the most terrifying moment of my life. How is a person at my age, or any age really, supposed to deal with the news of developing cancer? Hearing those words roll off her tongue still haunt me every day.
I did, however, found some good out of all of this. I have learned that I can get through every obstacle life throws at me as long as I keep a positive mindset and never give up. This disease has definitely changed me as a person and the way I live.
As of now, my Ulcerative Colitis is under control and I’m as healthy as I can be.
Heather Fry
I, myself, have taken many risks, steps, choices, and for sure learned many lessons that have helped me be who I am today. However, one of my biggest choices was made in the beginning of this past summer. I realized that this choice would either make or break my swimming career. It was so stressful to me that I almost wanted to quit swimming forever and never look back.
ReplyDeleteI started swimming when I was three years old and haven’t stopped since then. I would always hide underneath a little wooden bench that sat on the deep end of the pool so I could watch my brother do flip turns, streamlines, and dolphin kicks off the walls as he swam back and forth… and back and forth some more until eventually, the practice was over. I finally got enough courage one night and went up to the coach and said “watch this”. I got in and swam to the other end of the pool, did a flip turn, and streamlined with dolphin kicks to follow. The very next night, he put me on the team. I would practice a couple days a week for about an hour, then a couple days of the week for an hour and a half, then eventually five days a week. I realized that this team wasn’t what I needed, it helped me create a platform for swimming but it didn’t help me assure the chances of getting any better.
When I turned 11 I moved to another team in Shelbyville. My family had heard that the coach went to the Olympic Trials and was making his present swimmers drop time in everything they were swimming. So, my parents moved my brother first, and then me just to see if this “new guy” could really help me make it to the next level. After a couple of months to a year, I made my first sectional cut as a 12 year old. It was almost like a dream come true for me because at that time, I was the youngest swimmer at sectionals. It helped me realize that I loved the sport of swimming when I knew I could keep getting better and better and maybe actually have a successful future in my sport after all. As time flew by I noticed I had nine more sectional cuts and I began winning sectionals in my events in long course and short course. I didn’t think life could get any better honestly; I never thought of going to nationals, Worlds, the Olympic Trials, or even the Olympics until my coach told me that I could anything I set my mind to with my talent of swimming and perseverance of getting nothing but better, which was simply the only option for me.
The beginning of this summer I had to make the choice of wanting to get better; go further in swimming, or, stay the same and maybe drop a couple seconds in something here and there. I knew that if I said yes, then my life would consist of nothing but swimming, swimming, swimming, and more swimming… oh and yes, school falls between one of those somewhere. I knew that if I said yes, then it would be a lot of money and a lot of time that I would have to sacrifice to help me get one step closer to getting what I want out of this sport. Things have definitely changed for me that’s for sure. Instead of the everyday practices for just an hour and a half, I now swim 21 hours in a week. In the mornings before school and after school three days a week and after school every day of the week. I wake up at 4:25 a.m. to make my practices on time in Louisville and I have to leave school early to make the afternoons on time also. It has forced me to stay on top of school, keep my grades good, value my time wisely, take swimming more seriously, and become a stronger human being. I never would have imagined my life this way, or even being on the team that I’m on right now—but making this choice has taught me that success doesn’t come easy, it is not handed to you. "When you want to succeed as bad as you want to breathe, then you'll be successful". Hard work always pays off in the end. -Sydney Sell
Once upon a time, there was a little innocent girl, probably in the second grade, around 7 or 8 years old. She was a sweet, obedient, pleasant little child. In these ealy moments in her life, her and her sisters were staying with her dad and celebrating Christmas with him. Now, she absolutely loved Christmas. She loved the ideas of presents and families and sweets and snow. She still believed in Santa Claus, still adored Rudolph the Red nosed Reindeer and Frosty the Snowman.
ReplyDeleteOn this happy and celebratory day, while her sisters were off playing or doing whatever little sisters do, she was left alone with her dad. Her dad just kind of flat out asked her “You know Santa Claus isn’t real, right?” She had heard the rumors about this tragic misunderstanding, but she never even considered believing in them. I mean, you have to believe in Santa in order for him to be real, right? But why would your dad tell you this, I mean if he does buy the presents and put them under the tree then wouldn’t he definitely know if this ‘Santa’ thing is real or not? She was shocked at the outrageousness of this question and, honestly, I don’t remember what my reply was. My dad continued to explain Santa’s lack of existence; and I will never really understand what brought him to tell me this, I mean I was a child. Still young, naïve, pure, there was no reason for such an early disappointment.
Later on, I thought about telling my mom about what my dad had told me, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. She thought that I still believed, and I really did want to believe, but I had too many doubts. I think that my mom, just this past year or two, finally realized that I knew Santa wasn’t real. Even now, I would still love for Santa Claus to be a real thing. He brings so much happiness, hope, and faith to everyone; I don’t even understand why someone would start this tradition just to get everyone’s hopes up.
To most high schoolers now, Santa Claus is nothing but a far off childhood story, stored and packaged away in the back of our brains. To me, the realization of Santa Claus’s non-existence was kind of my first reality check. I mean it is an overextended lie, but the concept has good intentions. I guess what I’m trying to say is that although this experience was unavoidable, I kind of wish that it had never happened. It’d be nice to still have those childish beliefs and that trouble-free lifestyle.
Anyways, Merry Christmas!
Darby Taylor
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
ReplyDeleteA change, challenge, and choice in my life that all came together was when I started playing piano 2 years ago. It started with just a simple melody (How to Save a Life by The Fray) that I wanted to learn to play and continued until I can't see myself without 81 keys at my fingers.
ReplyDeleteI feel it was a change because as I said I can't put it down. Even over the summer when I took a break for 2 months the fire came back stronger than before to relearn and improve.
It was a challenge because simply put, instruments aren't easy to learn. Having no musical background except chorus it was just self teaching until I showed that I actually cared enough to get help from others.
With the challenge came smaller challenges as well. In our schools piano class we had several different people that had musical background some ranging from band instruments that they had played since middle school, others having taken piano lessons for 5 plus years. Honestly I had played for a few months prior and thought I was going to walk in and be the best in the class. Seeing the varying skill levels though caused a drive to appear and I worked harder than any others learning the most challenging pieces I could find just to show I was capable.
Finally, I had made the choice to play piano. But now it isn't a choice but a lifestyle. The challenge is what drives the change and hopefully more choices that end this way. So I urge that if anyone loses interest in music to go back and look at what caused you to pick your instrument up in the first place.
Dillon Smith
The hardest thing I think anyone could have to face is having to watch someone they love, get hurt. I'm pretty strong, I don't really get upset about much, and generally I'm able to hind my feelings and paint a smile on my face. But my challenge isn't even my challenge, my challenge is that I have to watch as my dad is separated from his family and as he misses out on his children growing up. My dad is currently stationed in Texas as a lieutenant colonial battalion commander for the Paducah military unit. He was sent there 2 months after being deployed to Afghanistan. Him not being home, I can only imagine how hard that must be for him. And being someone who loves him to the moon and back, that hurts. Emily Evans
ReplyDeleteJust hearing the tone in his voice when he calls reveals how sad he is and how badly he misses everyone, and I can do nothing to change that. The worst part of all is that the pain that I feel for him, probably doesn't even equal up to what he feels. He says that everything is okay and that he is kinda used to it by now, but could you honestly ever get used to not seeing your family? I know he just says that so that we won't worry about him. I just get to sit back day in and day out and watch him be sad.
I have a little brother named Mason and he will turn 3 in January. During these 3 years my dad has been sent to Afghanistan for a year and 2 months and to Texas for a year and 1 month. He has missed most of my little brothers life so far and it tears my dad up, which in return tears me up. It's not only my dad either, when my 2 year old brother wakes up and says "where's daddy?" I can't help but feel terrible. Or when he cries for dad and all there is to do is put him to sleep so that he hopefully will forget who he was crying for, isn't as easy as it sounds.
And how do you explain to a 2 year old that his daddy who supposedly loves him more than anything in the world didn't just leave him? You can't. All there is to do is hope for the best and pray that it doesn't effect Mason and my dad's relationship in the future.
I face a lot of other issues but this is definitely was hurts me the most. Because even though my dad may come home in May, the time he spent away is gone and he will never be able to get it back.
This is Emily Evans
DeleteBeing compared to your older siblings is a challenge for most of us, I'm sure. I'm the same way, except that it's the opposite of what people normally think when I say that "I don't want to be compared to my older brother."
ReplyDeleteMy older brother barely graduated high school, passing in many classes with a D. He's smart, but due to multiple family issues that were happening a couple years ago, when he was in high school, he ended up not caring about his future. He even had a child, although he won't say that it's his because he's in denial. I'm not proud of that, but I do love my niece and am glad that he made those mistakes happen that got her here when he was younger. He then began living with my father, who stays at home to work and never had any reason to go outside unless it was to take the animals outside or buy food, and did nothing but sleep and play video games. He was slowly throwing his life away until recently, when he moved out and got his own apartment to live in.
Obviously I'm not proud of my male family members - I've probably been outside more this week than my father has, if you don't consider the animals in this equation, and most likely even my brother. My mother still favours him over me in all aspects, besides the fact that I am better to shop for, and barely has a moment where she's not talking about him. However, she does know when she's going too far, and chides on me to do something with my life. That's gotten me stressed out with all of the homework I have to do everyday because of it, but I'm good with handling stress - pushing it down and pretending it's not there is very helpful and definitely works.
She wants me to consider going to colleges around where she lives, not even considering the fact that she moves around so often. She wants me to do "what I want", as long as it pays well and secures my future. She wants me to have children that I accept, when I know that it will complicate with my dream job. She wants me to do so many things that I don't want to do, but I'm afraid of saying no and making her give me "that look" and making me feel guilty about doing something that she doesn't approve of.
As I finish writing this, I can now see I added two challenges that I face - being compared to my older brother, and facing my mother. I'm probably never going to tell my mother the truth of exactly what I want to do, and many little things about myself, but the problem will go away with time. Or at least until I graduate high school and start heading off to college. It would be too late to change my mind about a career path by then.
Aurora Strider
As high school began, so did the ridiculous amount of questions. We were asked questions about history and math and science and health and English and French and every other subject I failed to mention. Yet we could study for these, we could cram in the last bit of information, at 2:30 at night, to feel prepared for the questions we faced the next day. But there is always one question I am never prepared for. One of the hardest questions to answer.
ReplyDeleteYeah, I know the answer. It’s a simple yes or no. But how do I explain it? How do I say it without looking silly? How can I answer it, the way I want, without being judged? To me it’s one of the world’s toughest questions.
“Wanna come drink at my house tonight?” They would say. “Come on Keenan, let’s go get wasted.” Person after person, “You going to that party tonight?” High school was an infantry of soldiers, all fighting for the wrong goal, and I felt like the target. Every question was a shot trying to get me to succumb. But I have to be relentless in my effort, I have to say no.
It’s not a parental choice, even though they hounded me about it. It’s not a choice that my teachers or some of my peers urge me to do. It’s not even a choice that can easily change. I choose to not drink alcohol, because it’s the choice I want to make. No matter how many of my friends are doing it, I stay unyielding in my decision.
It’s not worth the risk, time after time we hear of teens that have lost their lives in horrible ways under the influence of alcohol. We see athletes who lose the ability to play the game they love, due to accidents under the influence. We see super students who lose their scholarships to the best schools in the nations, due to incidences with alcohol. It’s not worth risking everything I have studied for, trained for, and aspired for my whole life just to have a “great” night with friends. It’s not worth the risk, especially at this age. So I choose to say no.
This simple, yet toilsome to answer question, frightens me to this day. I never know when it will be asked, who will ask it, how they will ask it. A copious amount of x-factors, but only one answer for me. Some people may judge me for it, some may shame for it, some may even vote me off the island, but it won’t change my views; it hasn’t changed my views. I aim to stay strong, no matter how many bullets are being fired, because I know the dangers of it. I know what could happen in a brief moment, a single bad decision. The battle will never be over. The battle will never change. But neither will my answer. I can wait. I choose to wait.
-Keenan Jones-
I believe challenges are what make us, us. The challenges I have faced in my life are what have made me who I am today. A strong, independant, outgoing teenage girl. With common sense of course. If we don't face challenges as people we will never know our strengths or weaknesses. We all need to know what we're good at and what we need improvements on. The most challenging choice/ challenge I ever had to face was taking care of my Papaw on his death bed. At first I wasn't sure if it was a good idea because me and my Papaw were never really close, but I thought through it and decided I would. Now I spent countless hours with this man, day and night. I missed school to be there with him when no body else was. My grades dropped horrifically and I to this day am struggling to get them back up. But you know what? I would go back and do it all over again. Because not only did my Papaw and I start a bond between us, but I have some of the best memories with him and that's irreplaceable to me. I was with him when he took his last breath and that right there was the biggest challenge of all. I have never lost anyone before him really. But watching someome take their last breath is something you'll never forget. That whole experience has made me the stronger, more independant woman I am today.
ReplyDelete- Lyndsey Weisman
Lyndsey I have known you for about 6 years now, we aren't as close as we used to be but i know you pretty darn well. So when I correct you its out of love. :)
DeleteFirst off I would like to say im proud you were able to do something as wonderful as taking care of your papaw, and im sorry you had to go through this. Losing someone can really hurt, and if you ever need to talk you know im always here for you...
Now for the secound half... girl add some detail!!! You can write some pretty amazing things, and something as close to your heart as this is, I know you can do better. Give us a memory, or a moment you remember the most. Also transition. You go from talking about how we all face challenges, to your papaw... make that two diffrent paragraphs.(but be sure to add more!) something about the way you said "The most challenging choice/ challenge" sounds strange to me. Other than that I loved it, I liked the fact that you stepped out of your comfort zone and sharred this! Again i only corrected you out of love, not hate.
-JENNY White
Have you ever wished you were out of your parents' house? That they would just leave you be sometimes? Yeah, me too until I realize i really don't have both of my parents. My mom works 10 hours a day then comes home and slaves over the stove for hours to make us happy, while my dad is living with his mother, acting as if he is a sponge sucking all her money from her, selling all of her antiques and all of his kids stuff so he can make a quick buck.
ReplyDeleteMy dad is a chronic crack-cocain and heroin user, and he never wants anything to do with me. I see my father maybe once a week, even when I'm at his house all weekend. He never calls me to tell me he loves me, ask how I'm doing, or even come to a single one of my tennis matches. The only interaction I have with my father is when he's asking me for something or barking orders, and when he doesn't get what he wants, he goes off and saparates himself from everyone, making it hard to get through to him. Whenever he gets off of his high, he always takes it out on others, usually me, to take their stuff away, probably to sell it for drug money, or to kick them out of the house he doesn't own no have any jurisdiction over. He always claims he "never feels good" when I ask him to do stuff with me, not realizing that I know the real truth to why he won't. From the time I walk in the doors over there at 4:15 pm on friday after school to when I have to leave Sunday night at 7, I probably have spoken to him once.
So here is my challenge: to help my father better himself so that we don't have to worry about his future. My older sister and two of my aunts have been discussing it lately and we feel that an intervention is what's going to have to happen. In my opinion, though, it's much deeper than what we think. I know my father and I know he won't like being confronted by a big group of people, especially when he's getting called out. He'll say that there's "nothing wrong" with him, that he's "clean".
Honestly, I'm just scared for his future. If he continues on the road he's traveling now, I'm worried he'll end up in a halfway house, over dosing on pills and even worse.
Evan Montgomery
Part 1
ReplyDeleteI’m sure almost everyone can say that they’ve been through a challenge of some sort, had a type of change in their life, or had to sit down and take the time to make a choice. These three things are constantly happening within our lives. I would like to share a something personal that has happened in my life where all three of the “C’s” came into play. Not a lot of people know what I am about to write and I’m sure of you all will be shocked by it too. Here it goes…
First, let me explain how people see me. The girl who is very talkative. The girl who doesn’t have any problems. The girl who has it pretty good. The girl who can take people’s jokes but it really does hurt her deep down. The girl who will straight up how it is regardless. Some of those assumptions are right and some are mistaken by many. There has been one constant struggle that I’ve hidden pretty much my entire life.
My dad and I haven’t had much of a relationship pretty much my entire life. Yes, my parents are still married and we all live together, but my dad and I never really talk. As a child, all of my good and fun memories are with my mom. As I began to grow up I finally started to understand why my dad and I didn’t have a good relationship, why he was hardly ever there for me. My dad is an alcoholic. He is not physically abusive but more emotionally. Just imagine, someone who is supposed to love you and protect you and raise you into the adult you will be one day calling you worthless, saying they wished they never had you as a daughter. Telling you that you were a mistake. Yes, it hurts more than anyone can ever imagine. That little saying, “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me” is total bullshit. Words hurt. I’m pretty sure everyone can agree to that. There have been countless of times where I would believe the things that he has said. I would question things like “Why am I here if he hates me so much? How could my mom let him do this to me? If I am so worthless why am I even alive?” Needless to say I have overcome the struggle of asking myself those questions. Yes, it has affected who I am as a person but it does not define me. It is the reason why I usually keep things all bottled up inside. The reason why it’s hard for me to trust people. The reason I am so hesitant to let people into my life because I’m scared they’re going to just walk out on me whenever it is convenient for them. Most people couldn’t even imagine that this would be going on in my life. I try to be a happy, positive person who always has a smile upon her face. I tend to not share personal things with people because I feel as though I will look weak or be judged. This would be considered the challenge/change I have faced my entire life and I am still facing it to this day.
My dad’s problem has obviously made me make various choices. As a teenager I have learned that I cannot let my dad’s problem stop me from being Hannah. I can’t let it stop me from achieving my future goals in my life. I can’t let it determine my future and my life. Statistics do show that alcoholism does indeed run in families. I am not going to let some silly statistic tell me that I am going to one day end up like my father. The biggest and most important choice I have made with this situation is coming to terms with my dad’s problem and accepting it. Very few people know this but I have actually been attending therapy to just have someone different to talk to. No, just because I go and see a therapist doesn’t mean I’m psychotic or anything like that. I just simply have someone else to talk to about my situation other than my mom and various friends who I chose to share with. Learning to accept my dad’s problem and knowing that I can’t stop it no matter how hard I try.
-Hannah Tice
Part 2
ReplyDeleteBasically to sum it all up, I have been through hell and back in my sixteen years of living. Not going to lie about that. I have finally accepted the fact that you cannot help someone who wants to be helped or change someone who doesn’t want to change. I have realized that his problem is not because of me. Many of times I have questioned if it was. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love my dad more than anything. I have begged him countless of times to stop or to try and get help. He says he will but let me tell you, actions DO speak louder than words. He will always be my dad and I cannot change that. Now that I have accepted my dad’s problem, it has lifted a million pound weight off my shoulders. Now I worry about Hannah and Hannah only. I am now focused on only my problems and only my future.
-Hannah Tice
I've been thinking about this and whenever I think of a problem or challenge I think of trust. When I was little I had no problem with it but that opened me up to so May issues with the world that I shouldn't know at such a young age. So since I was 9 I haven't trusted many people. I've never wanted to get hurt so I would build what seemed like a 10 inch thick wall of ice that's a million feet tall and wrapped all around me. This was some what ironic when my best friend started calling me ice pack because I was cold at a football game. The point is I have always protected myself from the world that I never really saw it.
ReplyDeleteWhen I was 6 years old my mom married a guy she loved and knew for a long time and we all liked him. I can't remember what he did but when I was 8 he was arrested and his case found that he would spend 18 years in prison so his daughter that had just been born could grow up. After this my little sister would always say she hated me and that him bring arrested was my fault. I remember crying and telling my mom and she would say it was just a faze and she would hold and rock me until I cried myself to sleep. After this I could trust anybody accept my mom and my aunt Pam for a very long time.
Then the beginning of junior year I decided to start trusting. We had the philosophy unit in English and with the help of a friend I learned how to get past this wall and to let myself be free to trust others. I have had so much help getting to this point that while I'm typing I've realized that I have created a new foundation of people I trust. You can get past anything if you really want to. Even an impossible wall of ice.
-Madison-ice pack-Whitman-
Good post ice pack
DeleteThe only suggestion I can make is elaborate more about how it affected you and how you have grown away and possibly things you have been able to accomplish because you got over the hump.
thanks for posting and you might want to sharpen the ice pick after you got through the ice never know when you might need it
Robbie "peg leg " Olson
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThe first day of school is always the best when you're in elementary school. You've just spent two full months away from your best friends. You can't wait to hear all about their summers and tell all about yours. To put the icing on the cake, it was fifth grade year. THIS is the year you are on top of the school, nothing could hold you back. Okay, maybe one thing. Frankfort is a small town. It seems like everybody knows everybody. When your new, you tend to stick out like a sore thumb.
ReplyDeleteI am shy and don't tend to make friends easily. I will talk to anyone who is willing to talk to me first. I will never forget running in Mr. Blevins gym class alone on that first day and getting my first "hi" or the famous words of Mr. Lovell when we were doing ice breakers "pick someone you don't know very well" and of course every rushed over to me. Don't get me wrong, nevertheless, I made some of my best friends from that day on.
Despite making new friends, I still felt lost and unconnected to my friends that I left in Florida. The last day of fourth grade I made sure to have everyone sign my yearbook and give me numbers and addresses, you know, because writing to your friend via snail mail was cool in 2006/2007. Anyway there were very few instances where, still to this day, that I have communicated with anyone that I went to elementary school with. When we walk across that stage next year to graduate, many of you have spent all grades of school together. Sometimes I struggle with the idea that I on the other hand, will never get to walk across the stage with anyone I started school with.
Moving wasn't all bad. With social media nowadays, I am able to see what my old "friends" are up to. Often I remind myself that I am much better here. The "good" children I hung out with, grew up. I have no idea who those people are. I'm not calling them sluts but their clothes sure don't cover a whole lot. I could never see myself where they are now. Lifestyle and values are higher in Kentucky too. Education wise, I'd say Western Hills is about 1/5 the size of a normal or typical high school, no exaggeration. That means much smaller classes and a better learning base. I'm not dissing Florida's education system, I just think there is better life opportunity in Kentucky.
Overall, I realized that although change is hard in the beginning, it's generally for the better in the long run. I held a lot of anger, for lack of a better word, inside because I didn't know anything other than Florida. As I've grown, I've become grateful for the opportunities and the changes that have occurred around me and for me.
Shannon McCutcheon
"Florida"
"New chick in the red sweater"
"Jackie"
Shannon
Shannon,
DeleteI personally love your post because it’s something I can relate to in a way because I can remember sitting by you in Mr. Lovells class on your first day at Westridge. I really love how you described your first day at a new school and what it felt like. I can’t image moving at that age and having to adjust to all the things. One suggestion about your post is maybe use some metaphors or similes to compare how your first day and move here was. I really like your topic choice, it gives us all a sense of what it would be like to move to an unknown place and have to adjust pretty much your whole life.
Lexie Richardson
We didn’t know it until It was about midnight on a weekend night and my grandmother and I were watching a movie and the house phone rings and I answer it, it was my dad and he said "Is nana around" he was crying and breathing really heavily, I simply said "yes but what’s wrong and he said "I’m about to shoot myself" so I give the phone to my grandmother and he tells her he needs her to stop him and tells her where he was. Well, she wouldn’t leave me alone so we get in the car immediately and we go to 127, and there he is standing on the side of the road with a gun to his head. This is when I realized that my father was going crazy. My grandmother jumped out and attacked him and said "You're oldest daughter is watching you, and you’re going crazy. Don’t do this" This is when everything changed. My life changed, I knew I didn’t need my dad in my life until he got his act together. I was terrified, in shock and I remained that way until I started going crazy that I had to go to counseling. This has changed me to who I am today. I see the pain that teens go through without a father, or having a drug addict as a biological parent. It's hard, but it’s made me to stay strong through the smallest obstacles of life. Life throws me curve balls but then I look at myself and say "No, I am strong. I can do this". My father is now 47,000 $ behind on child support, he has never been to a ball game that I’ve cheered at in my life, he rarely calls me to ask if im’ okay, or how school is going. But when he does I simply tell him that I am succeeding and that you don’t need anyone who doesn’t need you.
ReplyDelete-Sierra Smith Part 2
Sitting here thinking about if I should post on this on here or not because in middle school two girls parents told them about my obstacle and they texted me and made fun of me, but who cares it has really made me realize my change in my life has made me to who I am today. My life was changed drastically when I was 6 years old, and the problem, I have been facing it since then. My biological father left my mom, my sister and I in 2003 and there was no reason for it at all, we had no clue what was going on or why he just left our lives. Then, when I turned 10 my mother sat down with me and had a talk, which my sister was 7 so she really didn’t understand what was going on at all. We sit down and I had no clue what was happening, she was balling and my father had been out of my life for a good 4 years. I remember her saying “Your father will not be a part of your life anymore" I was confused beyond words, but I didn’t let it show I simply said okay, I’ve done it for 4 years now, what’s the difference? I then for a couple of days started to get curious, so I had my mom tell me why he was gone for so long, and why I couldn’t see him anymore. Then she came out and told me, and she said he has been addicted to drugs, now. At that time, I didn’t really know what they could do to you, I know that the school talked to my class about it and what not but I didn’t know how much of a change it can do with someone.
ReplyDeleteA year later, or maybe longer, he came to my school and decided to have lunch with me, he had known my mom told me about his addiction and he explained it to me well. He said that he didn’t know what he was doing, and then he agreed to not do them when I was around. The court agreed and decided to let my sister, Emily and I see him every Tuesday and Thursday. I was young and so was my sister, so we didn’t know what he was doing. We would stay with him and he would take us places that I knew that we weren’t supposed to be at. He would fall asleep driving, he would scream at my sister and I for no reason, I would watch him steal from my grandparents. And I never said anything to my mom or my step dad about it, because I wanted to be in my father’s life. Eventually, I told my mom because he got really aggressive; to the point where I was in danger, and I wasn’t only scared for myself but I was scared for my sister, as well. My father had unconditional love for us but never showed it. My mom, then, got full custody of my sister and I. And I lived with my mom and my step dad for several years. My grandparents put my dad in rehab and he got out and was clean. He was clean for about 2 months, we got to see him again and let me tell you all, he was a completely different person but then he got with the wrong people again and got hooked... again...
-Sierra Smith Part 1
Self-Doubt, what is it? It is a deceptively simple term. Its meaning may change from person to person and its significance just the same. When I chose to write my essay about self-doubt a couple months ago, its significance changed for me.
ReplyDeleteI have taken up the daunting task of determining its importance in society today. What it does to people, how people think about it? I have settled upon the belief that it is an important thing all humans to have, yet not in the form we are born with. One thing that is evident throughout history is that humans are manipulable, from criticism, persuasion, and self-doubt
Up until freshman year, I didn’t have a care in the world for my grades, It was easy to get by with all A’s and B’s in middle school and goof off with your friends all day. Was I going to actually work in high school? Yes. At the time it didn’t seem like much to me, but now I realize and thank myself for making this decision more and more everyday.
I’m not writing this essay to explain to you all how I have turned my life around and become successful in school, but to show how my decision then and there, changed how I would make all of the decisions in my future. That decision meant giving up “friends” that wouldn’t hang out with someone that got all A’s, and having to work for a good GPA. But that work ethic, the confidence and self reliance that one decision gave me was phenomenal. It stands out to me.
I guess you could say I am sharing my personal advice, wanting you all to take some decisions heavily, and to make the right choice for yourself. To not be manipulated by others beliefs and to do whatever is good for you and your goals. Do not be swayed by the negative criticism that comes your way, for it is only temporary. The decisions that you make, big and small, will change your life no matter what.
Parker Buckley
As I'm beginning to write this, I keep thinking to myself "oh my goodness, am I really about to open up to a bunch of acquaintances, my English teacher, and whoever has the time on their hands to check out Mrs. Hill's class blog...?" Here goes nothing.
ReplyDeleteBefore I'm about to perform, I look at the crowd in front of me. I see the parents that come out for the night to watch their child play, dance or cheer. I notice the parents come to every single little game, it seems like they have their own seat that is reserved for them. Guys— I envy you all.
In my six years of dancing, my parents have never seen me dance before— not at the 50+ basketball games and football games, not at the competitions. My parents own their own nail salon, they work 10 hours on the weekdays and 9 hours on the weekends. Those family days most of you all have with your family— if it was planning a weekend to go out of town, going to pick out a Christmas tree to cut down and put up to decorate that night, I've never had. If my mom goes with me somewhere, my dad has to stay back and manage the salon, vice versa. Yeah, they provide me money but most things I do for my benefit, I have do myself. I scheduled my ACT test dates, my own college visits, I check up on my own grades to keep myself on track, and I find my own rides to games, community service for dance, etc. because if it's busy at work, my parents can't leave and take me.
I never let it affect my dancing and my smile while I'm in front of the crowd but it hurts. It hurts looking out seeing the other dancers have parents that are willing to travel to competitions with us knowing they'll be sitting on the bleachers the whole day.
They're not bad parents by many means, I'm more than blessed. I guess a lot of things comes from where we're from, Cambodia. After the Khmer Rouge, my parents were raised to work hard and make sure me and my brothers work have a better life than they had. Sometimes I don't realize how lucky I am and don't look at the bigger picture. They came to America with nothing and worked for everything we have now— a beautiful home, cars to drive in, and being able to provide my two brothers an education at the University of Kentucky. They didn't understand one word in English opening up their own business. It's been about four years that my dad found an amazing costumer who comes in every Wednesday and Thursday before work hours to teach him now to write and read in English.
The past two months, my mom has been in Cambodia building a house so after work, my dad has made the effort to come watch me dance at basketball games. It's made me dance harder and smile bigger. Better late than never, right?
- Ling Lo
As I'm beginning to write this, I keep thinking to myself "oh my goodness, am I really about to open up to a bunch of acquaintances, my English teacher, and whoever has the time on their hands to check out Mrs. Hill's class blog...?" Here goes nothing.
ReplyDeleteAttachment: being attached to another individual: I believe at some point in a person's life time, they meet someone who turns their world upside down. Someone who makes you cry a little less, laugh a little harder and smile just a wee bit bigger. Someone who knows you on the back on their hand— ha, probably better than you know yourself. Regardless if your life would continue with or without them, how many more people you meet as you're growing up, you'll always remember them and the memories that you all had. Whether when it was in your teenage years or you'll have one when you hit your fifties.
It was a choice to get involved. In eighth grade, I can stumbled across a fella that had this affect on me— (I know you're probably like oh my god, you were a eighth grader. Don't tell me some sappy love story you went through because you were naive) I never thought at such a young age I could meet someone that had much a big impact on my life. I mean at least not while I was in eighth grade— hell I was only, what, 14? I didn't know what I was getting myself into. Summing things up— I was the happiest girl in the world.
After a long, four years later, this relationship came to an end. I'm sure all my close friends could tell you (god this is so embarrassing to talk about and look back at it now) that I lost myself for the longest time, coming to school every morning with baggy eyes from the night before with sweatpants, sweatshirt, hair up. Last thing I was worried about was trying to impress anyone else. School work was the last thing I was worried about, instead I was thinking about all the things I could do to fix the broken. (my freshman GPA still haunts me to this day, it sucks) I lost my best friend who listened to nothing but me cry until 4 AM on school nights for months. I lost her because I didn't want to believe she was right, that I've changed completely. I blocked my family out, staying in my room refusing to even come down for dinner. Western Hills Dance is my life— those girls are my sisters and I dreaded dancing at games; all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball in my bed and bawl. I loved the person who hurt me, and ended up hurting the people who loved me.
It was a challenge to for me to convince myself to let go and move on. It was a challenge to rebuild my friendships and relationships I let fall apart, make up for loss time and convince my best friend I'm getting back to the old Ling. It was a challenge to pick myself back up, and get my happiness back. To come to a realization that this wasn't how I wanted to look back at my teenage years.
As much as I want to hate him, I can't. Two years later, my feelings haven't gone away completely. I question myself all the time— to this day, if I could take back those four years, would I? Truth be told, I wouldn't trade it for the world. I'm the kind person who lives with no regrets and believes that everything happens for a reason. This relationship developed me into the young lady I am today, if anything, I've learned so much about myself. The way I look at certain things now; without it I don't think I'd be as wise and as caution to never lose myself and to make the mistake to depend my happiness on someone else again. I want to thank him for making me twenty times stronger than I was before all this, being able to stand back up on my own, and helping me find my independence.
- Ling Lo
Attachment: being attached to another individual: I believe at some point in a person's life time, they meet someone who turns their world upside down. Someone who makes you cry a little less, laugh a little harder and smile just a wee bit bigger. Someone who knows you on the back on their hand— ha, probably better than you know yourself. Regardless if your life would continue with or without them, how many more people you meet as you're growing up, you'll always remember them and the memories that you all had. Whether when it was in your teenage years or you'll have one when you hit your fifties.
ReplyDeleteIt was a choice to get involved. In eighth grade, I can stumbled across a fella that had this affect on me— (I know you're probably like oh my god, you were a eighth grader. Don't tell me some sappy love story you went through because you were naive) I never thought at such a young age I could meet someone that had much a big impact on my life. I mean at least not while I was in eighth grade— hell I was only, what, 14? I didn't know what I was getting myself into. Summing things up— I was the happiest girl in the world.
After a long, four years later, this relationship came to an end. I'm sure all my close friends could tell you (god this is so embarrassing to talk about and look back at it now) that I lost myself for the longest time, coming to school every morning with baggy eyes from the night before with sweatpants, sweatshirt, hair up. Last thing I was worried about was trying to impress anyone else. School work was the last thing I was worried about, instead I was thinking about all the things I could do to fix the broken. (my freshman GPA still haunts me to this day, it sucks) I lost my best friend who listened to nothing but me cry until 4 AM on school nights for months. I lost her because I didn't want to believe she was right, that I've changed completely. I blocked my family out, staying in my room refusing to even come down for dinner. Western Hills Dance is my life— those girls are my sisters and I dreaded dancing at games; all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball in my bed and bawl. I loved the person who hurt me, and ended up hurting the people who loved me.
It was a challenge to for me to convince myself to let go and move on. It was a challenge to rebuild my friendships and relationships I let fall apart, make up for loss time and convince my best friend I'm getting back to the old Ling. It was a challenge to pick myself back up, and get my happiness back. To come to a realization that this wasn't how I wanted to look back at my teenage years.
As much as I want to hate him, I can't. Two years later, my feelings haven't gone away completely. I question myself all the time— to this day, if I could take back those four years, would I? Truth be told, I wouldn't trade it for the world. I'm the kind person who lives with no regrets and believes that everything happens for a reason. This relationship developed me into the young lady I am today, if anything, I've learned so much about myself. The way I look at certain things now; without it I don't think I'd be as wise and as caution to never lose myself and to make the mistake to depend my happiness on someone else again. I want to thank him for making me twenty times stronger than I was before all this, being able to stand back up on my own, and helping me find my independence.
- Ling Lo
As I’m reading through these blog posts, yours really stands out to me. I think you honestly had the best topic because loosing someone you care about, whether it’s a family member, best friend or boyfriend/girlfriend, I guarantee, is something that everyone can relate to and make a connection with. I know I most certainly can. I find it extremely brave of you to post something so honest, personal and you said it yourself, embarrassing, I don’t think I could ever do that. Great job, I really loved reading your story. Also, something my mom always tells me is that friends and boyfriends come and go but your family members are the ones that truly love you, care about you and are going to be there for you through every obstacle you go through in life, no matter how much you want to, don’t shut them out. (:
DeleteHannah Smith
While reading through countless blog posts both of yours are two of my favorites. For one, I love how personal they are. I know it must not of been easy to really open up to so many people but the best posts are the ones that people gave it their all.
DeleteLoosing a boyfriend/girlfriend is something that practically every high school student can relate to and reading someone else's experiences on the subject can make it easier to cope. Something I would like to know more about is how you could prevent going through that difficult situation again if and when you do fall head over heels a boy again.
Once again, thanks for opening up to everyone and having the courage to put your story out there! Good job Chloe. :)
Abigale Wilson
“If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever.” –Winnie the Pooh
ReplyDeleteI tend to think of myself as a person who always wants a routine, but on the night of March 9, 2013, that idea came to a tragic stop. March 9th started as any other day it was a Friday and I went to school, after school my mom picked me up to go to her work as usual, but when I arrived my Aunt Chrystal who worked with my mom was gone. I asked my mom where she was because my usual routine was to come in and go talk to her. My mom told me she wasn’t feeling well and had stayed home to rest. My “talks” with Aunt Chrystal everyday were a highlight of my day she helped me with anything I needed and was a strong Christian woman I knew I could get good, meaningful advice from, she wasn’t only my Aunt she was a best friend and it had always been that way. I grew up with Aunt Chrystal being my favorite aunt on my dad’s side she was the one who cared most about me and I cared most about. She was a funny, easy going an all-around a wonderful women.
My most favorite memories of Aunt Chrystal were the years she worked at my grandparents flower shop, she taught me how to design flowers and how to make my first arrangement, she became a role model to me and I always looked forward to seeing her. My favorite of all was Valentine’s Day, which is the busiest holiday at the flower shop we would stay so late preparing, most the time it was midnight before we all would leave, everyone would always crack jokes to lighten the stress, but Aunt Chrystal and Uncle Ronnie’s bickering jokes were the best, she could really get a crowd laughing. She could change everyone’s life by just being around to brighten there day.
The memories and talks I shared with Aunt Chrystal were a life changing event she helped me become a better person. What I wish I would have known was on March 8th 2013 that would be the last talk I ever had with Aunt Chrystal. At 8:00 o’clock at night on Friday, March 9th 2013, my mom got a call as we were walking out of a restaurant it was my cousin Megan, Aunt Chrystal’s daughter. As my mom stood pale and motionless her eyes started to water I had no idea what was going on and it was rare to ever she my mom cry. As I stood there next to her she screamed “Megan, Megan! What’s going on?!” I stood in terror I knew it was Aunt Chrystal something had happened. What I didn’t know was at that moment she had stopped breathing and her organs were shutting down. At that moment in the parking I wanted to fall to my knees in tears as my mom told me. At that moment time stood still and nothing seemed real.
Ashton Chaney
Part 1
After March 9th 2013, my life changed, for the next week I cried for hours straight I even broke down at school I couldn’t handle the idea of her being gone but the worst of all was we didn’t know why she had stopped breathing or why her organs had failed. Because of that I felt as if I could get no closure at all. After the doctors had examined her and studied to figure out what had happened, we had her funeral. Never in my life did I think that I would lose something this close to me and so suddenly, Aunt Chrystal was the first person I had ever lost that was this close to me. Finally after a couple of days we learned what had happened to her, her pancreas had failed, the pancreas the only organ that cannot be replace and the organ that supported the insulin in your blood stream and keeps you alive. After finding out why it just made me more and more angry I couldn’t understand why such as good women like her could die of something like that, she was healthy why her why so suddenly. Those questions were never answered. All I know is that God must have really needed another angel.
ReplyDeleteAunt Chrystal created memories that I will never forget and that have changed my life in the best possible way. Not only did her memories change my life so did her passing, it was the most tragic thing that has happened, suddenly in my life. She was their one day and gone the next. It felt unreal because I had just been with her the Wednesday before she passed away, we had a snow day so I went and hung out with my mom and her at their work, me and Aunt Chrystal ran errands for the office and she took me to get something to eat, that was a memory that I will never forget with her. That is the last memory and the last time I ever talked to my Aunt, she was my role model and a woman that changed my life I will forever miss her until we meet again.
“ Yeah, when I get where I’m going, There’ll be only happy tears , I’ll shed the sins and struggles , I have carried all these years, And I’ll leave my heart wide open , I will love and have no fear, Yeah when I get where I’m going , Don’t cry for me down here.” (Brad Paisley & Dolly Parton)
Ashton Chaney
Part 2
: So one of the biggest challenges of my life was not necessarily an event, or a particular... thing. It was more so a period of time in my life where everything seemed like one big challenge. This period of time started around the beginning of summer break, preceding my freshman year of high school, all the way to the end of Christmas break that same year. If the assignment were to describe one of the most awful times of our lives, this post would be exactly the same.
ReplyDeleteTo start off with the least of my problems, it was summer. I know summer is typically viewed as the one time of year in a students life where we get off school for an extended time period, time to lounge and relax, but I can't stand it. It's too long, it's too humid, and I tend to run out of things to do way too fast for my taste. So you can see why this doesn't make the most fitting scenery to have to deal with the loads of.... discarded protein...that I had to deal with. This just so happened to be the summer that I was practically forced by situation to tell my parents that I was, in fact, a homosexual. Almost no one who hasn't been through this can understand the soul crushing look that your parents give you when you dump such news on them. The horrible anxiety and paranoia that you go through just contemplating this act. In fact, telling my parents I was gay was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. Of course it was really hard on me as well as them. My dad freaked out terribly, smacking lamps off tables, he even hit me a couple of times :o(.
Living in a house with parents who are now both prejudice of you, as well as heartbroken, is not an easy thing to do. The tension within my household was so thick you could cut it with a spoon, it was almost maddening. I started smoking cigarettes by the pack in my own weak attempts to ease my stress, which helped, if not for frequently making myself sick from chain smoking. I couldn't sleep, eating was tough, and I stopped talking to almost everyone. I'd stay up late into the night and clutch on to remnants of my grandfather. drowning out my sorrows in loud music and cigarette smoke.
After many episodes of emotional distress, and family tension, school started. As if it could have come at any better time. Ha Ha. Though when push comes to shove, it wasn't as bad as I thought. All my school work gave me something more to focus on, and the school hours prevented me from spending all my time walking to god knows where with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. And it definitely got better when I met a guy that I liked. We started dating not too long after, and things looked as if they were finally starting to lighten up. His moms cooking was lovely, which made it easier to eat. My parents lightened up on me a little after they'd let it sink in, and when i was really stressed I could just go to my boyfriends house to escape for a while. But my episodes didn't stop, tension was still resent, and my pain still raw. The veil of excitement that came from just entering high school faded....quickly. I would sneak out of my house late in the night and just run, and run, and run. I'd find a lace to sit, and smoke for a while, before going back home at a much slower pace than I'd left from.
ReplyDeleteAs school sauntered on, I met some new friends both in school and out. I pretty much hung out with all new friends, some not the best influence on me, and others not even at my school. One in articular happened to be a homophobic, sociopathic dick. He became my best friend. I hung out with bad people, did some bad things, and practically fell apart. I was a broken person, in a broken world. I eventually broke with my boyfriend, really just unable to carry on a relationship.
Eventually it was as if everything had just kind of died out. I still have some episodes every once in a while, I don't talk to that ex anymore, that one friend moved away, and that whole period seems like one painful blur. I guess I should say how I overcame all of these challenges, but I didn't really. I wasn't strong enough to stop any of it, so I just waited, and waited. Hoping my problems would just go away. Now a days I wish I had stopped it all when it happened, maybe I wouldn't still suffer from it every now and then. Maybe I wouldn't have those awful memories lingering in the shadows of my mind. Maybe I wouldn't still take long, lonely walks in the winter. However, maybe I wouldn't be the person I am today.
GabRIEL Warren-Stark
This post hit me really hard. I can't imagine how my parents would react if I told them I was pansexual. Probably the same way yours did. Maybe not quite as bad; I don't think either of them would get physically violent. But a lot of words would be said. My dad disowned an uncle for being gay, so I have a feeling he would do the same to me.
DeleteI was in class when I read this, and I have to say, it was very hard for me to keep from reacting in a way that would attract attention. I actually got a little breathless at one point. Even teared up a little.
I'm sorry that it was such a bad experience for you. I wish we could all come out to our parents, knowing that they wouldn't think differently of us for it. Unfortunately, society isn't quite there yet.
Y'know I'm here for you, and you've got Jenny as well!
~Shelby (Or as you call me, Smellby) McKinney
Dear me,
ReplyDeleteIf you’re reading this, it means that somehow you survived eighth grade year despite the bombshell that was dropped on you. Despite how hellish this year has been, never try to forget it. If you do you’ll lose the part of you that pushed through the hardest challenge of your life. Realizing who you are.
You started out this year being a good, homophobic, Christian girl. You tried to wear the “right” clothes and be friends with the “right” people, and you weren’t happy. You denied who you really were and that took a toll on you. You became depressed, cutting yourself, contemplating suicide, getting high. You were afraid of yourself.
You thought yourself in love with a guy. You flirted with him every day. He introduced you to Wicca and you realized that you had been fooling yourself pretending to be Christian. He was the only part of your life that you liked.
Then one day, you found out that he was gay. You were heartbroken. How could you even be around someone that was… that way? You attempted what you’d only thought about and failed; pushing back the memories that were threatening to surface. They finally broke through.
Don’t forget the day that you remembered being a first grader and having a crush on your best friend at the time, a girl. Don’t forget how you couldn’t understand how you could be something you hated. Don’t forget how you finally realized that you were bisexual, trying to resist but finally accepting. Don’t forget that you realized it wasn’t a choice, it was who you were. Don’t forget.
Congratulations, you survived this year. Just don’t forget it. Don’t forget who you are.
Hannah F. Metzger
Over the years, I have been challenged by many things, but this year, I have been faced with a challenge I had never seen coming. I am challenged by my own attitude of not wanting to do anything with school anymore. Due to this, I have started to give up on my grades and how I do on my tests. This sounds completely irrational, I know, but you have to see things from my eyes. To do this, you have to hear me tell my story of a typical day, which surprisingly might sound like some of your days you have at school.
ReplyDeleteWhen I wake up in the mornings, I can’t stand the fact knowing I have to go to school. It feels like clockwork that I cannot get away from. When I finally get to school, I stand by myself and think of the things I have to do that day, and I usually come up with the same answer: I have to rewrite a textbook for someone to grade. I feel like I am getting sucked into a trance of scripted, poorly coded, tasks that I have to do every day, and for what, a simple grade on a paper that won’t amount to anything in the future? What I want to have in school is originality, and sadly that hasn’t come. I needed a place I could come spread my ideas and inspire people. I can’t have that at home because no one likes or appreciates my ideas, and I have come to find out no one at school does either. I began trying to blend in and not stand out; I turned to music by putting on headphones and tuning the world out. No ideas in. No ideas out. My originality has been destroyed and I am not trying to get it back.
After a while, I started questioning why I do things like rewriting a book or torturing myself over some test I am going to be taking. My answer was to give up on school and think about my future. After trying so hard to come up with a way to enjoy school, I have come to the conclusion that there isn’t a way that I could possibly do that. The way I see it, all I have is my future, and it feels like school is just holding me back from the things I want to do. I feel like writing a meaningless essay is killing my ability to learn about the things I want to pursue in. Now that I feel that way, I have put myself into this situation where I am stuck at school in this clockwork until I get home and actually focus on the things I want to do. I go home and I read about things I enjoy. I study the things I want to do. It’s like I have created my own version of school that I actually enjoy.
In closing, I will say this. At some point, we all will feel the way I do about school. I’m not saying give up like I am doing; I am saying do something that makes you happy. I chose to be stress free at school so I can pursue what I want to do in the future. Before you think I am depressed, I’m not. I am very happy at home where I can be to myself, but when I’m at school I feel like the day will never end.
-Dylan Ruble
Change Essay:
ReplyDeleteIm sure that at least once in your life you have been forced to do something that you had no say in. Something that would effect the way you do things for the rest of your life. I know I have and it has affected me both positively and negatively. Moving to the public school system after spending your whole childhood in private schooling is a dramatic change and full of new experiences.
Any kind of change can be hard on a kid, but placing them in a completely new environment that they are forced to get used to is aways hard. I never realized how different it could be. I never knew that my definition of school could be so different from others. Being a shy person, public schooling really helped me to come out of my comfort zone. While knowing every single person in my private school, on a friendly level because there was so few of us. Meeting many new people, and getting involved in activities with people you had never seen before was very different for me but I grew to love it and thats what made the experience that much better. Not even having the option before to join various clubs and sports, public schooling really open new doors for me.
While always having those little regrets after making a big decision, I find myself occasionally looking back to think what would have been different now if my parents made the decision to keep me in private schooling? I definitely would not have been exposed to the real world in the same way I have since the move. Private schooling is very strict and controlling, you have to be well behaved or there were very strict consequences. I didn't have a since of independence, because there weren't many decisions to make on your own. It was all pretty much laid out for you. In a private school I feel there was no individuality, everyone wares the same uniform everyday, only interacting with a total of 20 students everyday, having very few sports to get involved in. How would you ever know what you like and don't like?
This change has effected my life in many ways when it came to getting to know myself. I never was involved in any activities to take my mind off school. It was always just the focus of God and school. I had a very limited amount of friends, being only 12 in my class. I had a very simple view on things, only knowing the up scale, clean, healthy, focused, structured environment I was raised in.
Bottom line is if I had the chance to go back and could change my parents decision of moving me to public schooling I wouldn't change it for anything. I have in the end turned out fine. I have had the experience of both environments and had the chance to compare them unlike a lot of others.
-Brooke N. Spaulding
PART I
ReplyDeleteI can say with conviction that I absolutely love tennis. It's taken over a large part of my life, what with the school season, summer leagues, weekly lessons, and now, even teaching tennis. It's a game that has not only pushed me physically, but tested my mentality. I've made some of my best friends through tennis. All in all, it seems that tennis has been nothing but good to me.
Except.
I remember the moment itself so clearly; I was in the middle of a heated match in the fall, and I was winning. I felt good, confident. I went for one awkward shot that had an unfortunate ending. My follow through felt very odd; as my arm twisted and raised itself too high, I felt a sickening pop, and suddenly, my arm felt completely immobilized. It was stuck. I didn't know what I did wrong. I didn't know what to do next. I panicked. Instinctively, I simply reached my other hand up and literally pushed my shoulder back down into its socket. I felt a searing pain as I did that and my entire arm felt limp. What had I done?
I was in absolute agony after that incident. I could hardly move my shoulder for the next several days and I spent most of my free time lying down with an ice pack over my shoulder. Eventually, though, the pain subsided. I was relieved- it seemed like it was nothing, after all. I tried to push the unpleasant memory out of my mind. However, not surprisingly, the same thing happened again, and then again. Three times total so far, I've partially dislocated my shoulder while playing tennis.
My mother and I had a chat with my doctor about it when I had my next physical. She examined me, and then she shared with me the conclusion she had come to: I am a weirdly "double jointed" person, meaning I have lots of hyper-mobile joints throughout my body. Basically, this causes my joints to be much looser than normal, typically resulting in increased flexibility. However, because I work my right shoulder a lot due to playing tennis, I've loosened that joint even further, to the point where my shoulder no longer stays in its socket- a subluxation.
Diana Rudic
PART II
ReplyDeleteI was referred to physical therapy, where for 2-3 days a week for about 3 months, I had half hour sessions dedicated to strengthening the muscles in my shoulder to help battle my loose joints and hold my shoulder in place. In addition to that, I also had chiropractic appointments on days I didn't have physical therapy, where my chiropractor worked to push my shoulder back in place. X rays revealed just how bad it really was. With all of this going on, I was suddenly faced with a choice: do I continue playing tennis and risk harming myself further, or do I take the safer, easier way out and quit altogether?
I don't regret my choice. I continue to play tennis to this day. Many of you reading this may disagree with my choice, and I can understand that. However, to me, the pros of playing tennis far outweigh the cons. To be honest, it hasn't been easy- even after all this time, I still have to get my shoulder regularly adjusted, I'm physically incapable of moving my arm certain ways, and I have to be careful to not push myself too hard, not reach too far, and not lift things that are too heavy for me. These boundaries go beyond tennis and into daily activities. Also, I have the added frustration of dealing with people who simply don't understand my physical limitations. Despite all of this, I cannot imagine giving up tennis.
I stand by my choice to face the challenge that changed my life. I haven't done it alone, though. I'm lucky to have had the support of my parents throughout this whole ordeal, and I'm glad they've stood by my decision to keep playing. My friends & teammates help encourage me when I get particularly frustrated with myself for things out of my control. My coach has worked with me and taught me alternate shots in place of those I can't do. I've accepted that this a problem that'll never be completely fixed and I'll have to deal with it for the rest of my life, so I might as well make the most of it, right? I know my limits and my weaknesses, but I'm learning to be careful and work around them. If anything, this experience has made me stronger rather than weakened me.
Diana Rudic
ReplyDeleteAs a child I had often imagined the excitement of being able to drive, legally that is. Growing up on a farm leaves nothing to the imagination. Learning to drive standard and automatic since before I was riding a bike is like dancing before walking . Sitting in my dad's lap stirring the wheel, thinking that I was on top of the world, was the high point of my life. Being the oldest, the jobs fell on my shoulders, and still do. To get as much done as possible in one day it's most definitely a three person job, a person to drive, a person to stack, and a person to hand-off, being to small to do the other jobs, the task of driving came to me. Every chance I got I would beg my parent's to pull over and let me sit on their lap and drive.
We have two main highways and a one lane country road before I reach my house. Quite a distance to do much of anything. One trip to town takes about thirty minutes. A round trip is one hour. I couldn't wait to have my Sweet Sixteen, the year of all years. The year that would give freedom to all the rest of my years. No more riding the School Bus for an hour, no more having to go with the entire family to an event, and no more relying on my parents to get me somewhere. Driving seemed the perfect out. Independence.
Sixteen. The pre-adult year, right? Maybe, but not the way I wanted. When reality hit me, it hit me harder than I deserved. No cake, no presents, no party, Nothing. Worst day of my life. All my life i had dreamed of my Sweet Sixteen, the day of awaking, The event that would top all events in my life, (so far). The day that I would look back and remember as one of my favorites. The twenty-four hours that I had hoped would lead to taking the one test i didn't mind wasting my time on.
The day, January 21st, 2013, is a black hole in my memories. If ever there was a day that everything had to happen, it was this day. I won't go into detail about the tragic day, but it was and still will be the most humorous story of my great imaginings going down in flame until the close of the day.
I look back now, with almost the entire year of age sixteen under my belt, and feel gratitude, crazy right? The day that everything fell apart, the day that reality slapped me in the face. You would think gratitude would be the last thing i would feel. The enormous blow to my happy imaginings opened my eyes to the truth. I have never thought of myself as the teenager that knew more than someone else. I have always known the hard truth of the "working world", and that if you want something you have to work and earn it.
Long story short, I have wanted to drive, it seems like since forever. I have a car sitting in my driveway waiting. Payments done and pink slip in my hand. All this and the one thing i need is 4x2 piece of plastic.
By now majority of my friends have gotten their intermediate and full license. Whereas I haven't even got my permit. I have never felt that I had to hop on the bandwagon. Why follow and do things just because it's accepted? With little more than a month away from my seventeenth birthday I have come to realize that with driving it comes with just too much time and energy than i feel like giving out. I have a free ride to school everyday, I get to participate with my brother and sister and get to enjoy watching what they do. With my friends now driving, I don't have to ask my parents to drive me to meet them. It feels like it was a just a huge dream. A dream that I knew would change with time. I know I'll get my licenses eventually, but now I have more important things to worry about, and spend my energy on.
My post is going to be rather odd. I’m going to tell you all about a choice or challenge or change I am making as I am writing this. I will save it until the end to see who can figure out what the choice is, turning this assignment into a game.
ReplyDeleteI found it rather difficult to think of a choice or challenge or change that was worth writing about. And yes while Hill told us it would be fine to write about something simple, I just couldn’t bring myself to write about what I had eaten for breakfast this morning. I have come to the realization that our choices, challenges, and changes, while they may seem important at the time, may not be such important moments in our lives. While I am in no way saying that some of the posts here aren’t important, but in the long run they may not be defining moments in our lives. Especially with the fact that we have most of our lives left.
As I sit here on my bed, looking at the computer screen breathing and wondering if this will be long enough waiting to get done so I can eat and play xbox and thinking about how much time I wasted today just relaxing when I should have been writing this and just thinking about what I’m writing, I realized that thinking about all the things you’re doing at one time is astronomical. But you’ll be doing it all for the rest of your life.
So you may not think this had been a “story” about a time I made a choice or dealt with a change or took on a challenge. But it is. In the 30 seconds of my life that I have described I have done all three. I made a choice to write this about a simple moment in my life, I have described my change in perception on how much we really do in a single moment, and I took the challenge to do this a few hours before it was due like I’m sure many of my classmates have done. So how many of you guessed it right?
-Yours Truly Master Doctor Shawnathon Thomas Pope
After realizing my first post didnt have enough for me to expand on i have created another one with a new topic. this one is a bit more sad than my first one; the change/ challenge i have faced was the daetrh of my first dog. She was a shih-tzu and her name was Lulu. I love animals and would play with her often. We grew up together, I got her when I was four and we grew closed over the years. When I had moved back to Frankfort I initially didn't have any friends because I was new and didn't know anybody. My dog was there with me though, to be at my side, to keep me company.
ReplyDeleteA couple of years ago during winter break my freshman year she passed away, dieing of natural causes at the age of 11. Looking back I'm lucky it happened during some sort of break away from school because I was severely depressed for the next week or so. I hardly ate anything, all I would do all day is sit in my room and listen to The Beatles. I was distraught I guess you could say, I had lost of of my best and oldest friends. After winter break I had managed to shrug off the worst of it but I was still upset, you couldn't tell by looking at me but I was. It was hard to change at home because I continued doing things like fixing up dog food and setting bowls of water in the floor. It would upset me when I realized what I was doing without any thought no longer mattered.
My mom was also upset over all this and decided we should get another dog. I was p***ed when she proposed the idea because it felt like we would be replacing our old dog. She said " Okay we won't." But she ended up getting two shih-tzu puppies anyway. I'm glad she did, over the last two years I have grown closer to them as well. Even though they will never replace my first dog they have helped to heal the emotional wound.
P.S. I thought two dogs were enough and you know what happens? One of the dogs ended up having a litter of seven puppies in August. We kept two of them and I thought it was a bad idea to keep any, well I was wrong. There is one I have become pretty attached to because he just follows me everywhere.
- Cameron Bunyea, head of the PPNTOO, Preservation of the Pacific Northwestern Tree Octopus Organization
The natural enemy of the tree octopi are Sasquatch so please help to reduce the Sasquatch population.
To learn more please visit the website below:
http://zapatopi.net/treeoctopus/
Before this past summer, I would be perfectly confident in telling anyone that I’m an introvert, because I didn’t see anything wrong with it. I could, hypothetically, drive myself out to a deserted field in Utah (because nothing happens in Utah), and live all by myself in a trailer for like, six months with no problem. I know the Social Butterflies are cringing at the thought but I always figured that if I was content, what does it matter?
ReplyDeleteExcept, this summer, I learned that it does matter, when I stepped out of my comfort zone and traveled to Brazil to teach students English. I wasn’t very content in how being an introvert left me. It’s not that I’m of afraid of human interaction… I just don’t practice it as much as I should. Because of this, I wasn’t very skilled in essentially the most important aspect of the trip. I ended up learning so much about people I had never met before, and myself. For me, I’m constantly challenged not to just sink back into what’s comfortable because I now realize that people are created to interact and how important it is to make connections in life.
-Emilee Agee
Not too long ago I made a choice, a choice that resulted in a few challenges that both my friends and I had to face.
ReplyDeleteJuly 5th, 2013. It was me, Heather, Samantha, Mackenzee and Sierra- all just hanging out, bored. When boredom struck we decided to just drive around- being that Mackenzee and myself were fairly new drivers, it sounded fun. We took 2 different cars just to be safe because of the intermediate rules. Little did we know we were headed for what turned out to be one of the scariest things I think we've all experienced. It started to rain- bad. It was around 10:30PM. I was driving Heather, Samantha and myself. Mackenzee and Sierra followed. Going around what I had no idea what such a sharp turn, boom. A wrecked car and three very scared teenage girls. Being that I wasn't even driving my car, I was driving Heathers was even scarier. Smoke was everywhere, a stone wall was knocked completely down and I was the only one who reacted immediately. I got out, looked in the car and saw my two best friends sitting there helplessly. I yelled "Hesther, Samantha! Please! Get out!" I had no idea if anyone was okay. Thankful they both reacted and with just a little trouble we all got out okay.
Long story shorter- with only a few minor injuries and the help of some awesome paramedics we all came out alive. What a scary challenge we faced that night. One I hope no one has to face. It really opened my eyes how quickly things can happen, and the worst part was facing out parents- almost an even BIGGER challenge. And after all, it turned out to be a great lesson learned.
-Lauren Knarr.
One challenge I’ve faced my whole life it pushing people away. I don’t know why, but it’s been a habit of mine for as long as I can remember. And the thing is, the people who I push away tend to be the ones I care about most. Usually, I’ll allow myself to get close to a person. But, after a while, I’ll start to get scared that I’m being too clingy. Every time I talk to the person I’ll have a voice in the back of my mind saying “shut up. Shut up. They’re getting annoyed of you.” It’s that fear of being secretly hated and unwanted that drives me to distancing myself from people whose relationships meant a lot to me.
ReplyDeleteI’ve pushed away countless friends and boyfriends, but the most prominent relationship that I’ve ruined would probably be the one with my dad. After my parents got divorced, my two sisters wanted to spend more time with my mom, so I decided to spend more time with my dad to keep him from feeling left out. My dad and I had always been close and I just felt like he was my best friend. I could tell him anything. When I was about 10 years old, my dad and his girlfriend started getting pretty serious. Although it was completely untrue, I thought he would want to spend more time with her instead of me. I began to shut him out. I remember trying to only talk to him when I needed something, and even then I tried to make the conversation as quick as possible. Looking back on it, I was actually hurting my dad’s feelings. But, at the time, I felt like I was just doing him a favor.
Since then, my dad and I have never been the same. I’d distanced myself from him for almost two years, and in those two years we’d both changed quite a bit. I tried and tried to make things the way they were before, but we’re practically strangers. We still get along, but very rarely can I feel completely comfortable around him. It’s been almost six years since then, so I’ve pretty much accepted the fact that I’m never going to have a close relationship with him. I know compared to a lot of your guys’ stories mine doesn’t seem like a big deal, but it really makes me sad thinking about it.
As I said before, I do this all the time. It’s something that I don’t even realize I’m doing until after it’s done. It’s affected the way I interact with people and kept me from being able to keep people around for extended periods of time. I hope I’ll be able to deal with my, we’ll call them fears, more efficiently one day. But, as of right now, it’s still a challenge that I face regularly.
Caroline Coles
Caroline,
DeleteWell even though I hardly know who are (not at all) I can honestly say that your story and your feelings ARE a big deal. They're your feelings, and it's your story to tell. It's your own life adventure, unique to you.
And on the note of your fear-challenge, pushing away people for fear of making them leave you right? I've deal with that as well recently, but end up blabbing nonstop to them about how afraid I am of them leaving, which in turn annoys them. I would say all you need to do, is remind yourself that they love you for who you are and ain't going nowhere if they're your real friends, and will shove back if you push them away.
Keep strong.
Tyler Chapman
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
ReplyDeleteHonestly, the biggest challenge I've had in my life is the balancing act called my life. With so many things going on in my life, it's just as calm as Ms Hill's desk is organized. While every individual part of my life is a challenge, when you put them all together my life is like a never ending wind up toy.
ReplyDeleteThe first aspect of my life the is difficult to juggle would be my extra-curricular activities. The three main activities that take up m time are archery, academic team and band. Truthfully, archery is something that calms me down and takes me away from the stress of the aspects of my life. However, academic team and band are completely different stories. Both of these activities require so much preparation that I hardly have time for, but it also seems like all of their events conflict with each other. This forces me to constantly choose: band or academic team.
The other main component of my challenging schedule is my course load. With four extremely difficult AP classes (as well as band... more preparation). It wouldn't be very difficult if it was just the classes, but the true killer is the homework. With an average of two hours of homework a day, as well as instrumental practice and voice practice, my average sleep time is about five to six hours a night.
If that's not challenging then I don't know what is. My life is like a speeding train that goes nonstop. Even if I derail, I have to find a way to get going again because I know that every inch that I go will help later on down the tracks.
Todd Stetler
My first day of middle school was probably the second scariest day of my life. Imagine, you have spent your whole life, with two other people, your family, every class, every lunch, every after school activity. The whole 9 yards. On my first day of middle school I was without my lifeline, my support. When I got my schedule I remember thinking this isn't that bad, and then, I compared it to theirs, my siblings. At first I thought yay this will be fun, I’ll make my own friends, have my own classes and my own homework. That “yay” was not the case. I walked into the theater on that fateful day and realized that I was scared to death. I sat down in Mrs. Stewart’s row dreading the day ahead. We walked to our first class, quiet and shy. I remember this teacher, at the back to school bash, she and another teacher (Mrs. Fryman) argued who had the best triplet, Keenan or MacKenzie? Did it even really matter? Neither of the teachers had talked to us for more than five minutes, but was determined that one was ultimately better than the other.
ReplyDeleteHaving recalled that memory, I felt a little more comfortable, maybe I was the best, a least in her eyes I was. When the first bell rang, walking into the hallway I’ll admit to scanning for their faces, and hoping that somehow they would get changed into my next class. Mrs. Crask, Mr. Shepard, Mrs. Fryman. Zip. Zilch. Nada. No siblings in there. When lunch approached I was sure to see them. They weren't at my lunch table, or any one close to it, Harper absorbed talking to her new and old friends at the third table, and Keenan surrounded by the guys at the 8th table. I had a seemingly perfect view of each of them, near the middle of the room, on the aisle. I watched them attentively hoping to catch their eyes, a sense of recognition, a sense of desperation and confusion. Anything. But alas nothing, nothing but smiling faces and ignorance of their forgotten sister, the one they had no clue who needed them. I moped my way through the rest of lunch, and walked grudgingly back to class. After the 4th bell, we were free to go to enrichment. I rushed out of my classroom, standing in the middle of the hallway like a kid lost in the store. Looking for a familiar face, I looked up the hall, and Harper was escaping with Keenan up the ramp and away from me. I frantically tried to catch up, but they were gone. I had lost my chance to talk to them, to see how they were coping. I finished off my day in silence. Contemplating the horribly tragedy middle school seemed to be, and how could the others before me gotten it so wrong.
I was utterly alone; how they could have left me behind, not telling me they were moving on. Words cannot describe how abandoned I felt, how helpless that first day was for me. I had them with me every step of the way and all the sudden they were gone. I came to realize that you never really realize the good things you have until they are gone. Those are exactly what they were and still are good things. That first day of middle school was a big change for me as well as a challenge. I've grown as a person because of that first day, which subsequently was a first of a lot of firsts. I became involved in agriculture, I ran all alone on the cross country team, I joined the basketball team and started to become the person I am today. I've come to realize that I made myself so different from them, willingly distancing myself from them as well as their activities and came to realize who I was as a person. I became my OWN individual. I became MacKenzie Jones. A triplet; but not one of the triplets.
One of the big challenges in my life is my introverted personality. For those of you who know me, if you were asked to describe me, one word would probably come to your mind: quiet. It may sound like it wouldn't be a challenge or that it would be easy to “get over”, but it is very difficult. I've been asked many times “Why don’t you ever talk?” or some variation of that. I wish I had an answer for that, because honestly, I don’t know. Nothing traumatic has ever happened to me, I had a normal upbringing, but I’m still quiet.
ReplyDeleteI can trace being quiet all the way back to elementary school. However, I can still never trace a reason. Well, maybe being in speech classes in elementary school caused me in part to be shy, but I do not remember what was going through my head when I was in Kindergarten. Not that the reason matters much anymore, as me being quiet has just become what I’ve accepted. It’s strange to actually consider the reasons why you act the way you do. There is nothing physical holding me back from being more outgoing, but everything mentally is.
I’d consider myself an anxious person in general. I tend to worry about everything and a lot of things can make feel uneasy. I am scared that I’ll say something stupid or that someone won’t like me. I’m afraid of being viewed as someone who is awful to be around.
Despite all of this, I actually enjoy other people. If I’m comfortable in a social situation, I really enjoy it. Even if I’m not comfortable, it is nerve-wracking but at the same time exciting. A lot of the time my mind goes blank and I can’t think of anything to say, which I hate, but usually I am still enjoying the interaction with others, even if it doesn't look like it.
Though I’m still a pretty quiet person, I have made some strides since, say, middle school. I try to just relax and not take anything to heart. This has helped a lot as I’m not stressed out about inconsequential things as much. I am definitely more comfortable in social situations, though I’m far from feeling perfect about them. I still have a long way to go. This is part of the reason why I’m applying to GSP. I don’t know what my chances are to get in, but I think that just throwing me into a new environment will force me to get better at this. Hopefully in the future, I will continue to become more comfortable socially.
-Ethan Aldridge
It was a sunny day close to the start of my freshman year in high school. I had high hopes of joining the freshman powder puff football team, from what my friend Elizabeth told me it sounded like a lot of fun. She was at my house with me that day and she was going to help me learn how to catch the ball without flinching. We were having a ton of fun running around in the field trying to catch the ball when a Volkswagen Bug happened to pass by. We were very big into the slug-bug game at the time (the game were you punch someone when you see the particular car and call out the color of the vehicle), so naturally, when she called “Blue one!” I started to run from her.
ReplyDeleteAs I ran and began to make a turn, a sudden wave of terrifying shock rippled through my body. It was like expecting to take a step but your foot only hitting empty space, your brain could not process anything, but could only scream “Panic! Danger! What’s happening?” It was a split second but felt like years of confusion as I ended up on the ground, my body shaking with the shock and the adrenalin that was pumping through my veins, and my right knee in sharp pain. Elizabeth helped me hobble back to the house and I spent the next week on crutches.
I’ve grown quite used to the feeling of shock and panic of having my knee cap popping out of place. Actually, I haven’t. The sudden rush of adrenalin and the feeling like you’ve just been shot is not something you get used to as much as familiar with. As you can imagine, having this happen to yourself numerous times creates some paranoia. Paranoia is a seed in the back of your brain they you may not be thinking about but you are constantly aware of.
This past summer I went three months without an incident and thought I was stronger. I believed that I had outgrown the incidents but they came back with no mercy. The day of homecoming I was WALKING across the living room in the house when my knee made a jerk that felt like it was locking up but collapsing at the same time. At this point my thought of panic is no longer “What is happening?” but instead it is “God, no, please not again!” After that fall I was fed up. A few days later I went to see my doctor and he sent me to a sports knee specialist in Lexington. They x-rayed my knee and did some tests to determine that the right knee cap was too loose and it was caused by the fact that the muscles above my knee that were supposed to keep my knee cap on track were weak because I had been subconsciously protecting that knee since I first injured it. The seed had not only taken over part of my thoughts, but my body too. The doctor told me what I had to do to strengthen my leg and gave me a brace to keep my knee cap in place whenever I did rigorous activity. I also found out that a little chip of my kneecap broke off in the original incident (or it might have happened when I hit my knee on a tree while horseback riding but I forgot to mention that), but the doctor told me that it should be okay if they just left it.
I am now on the road to recovery, but will always remember what I learned from this struggle. I have learned that if I have a problem, to never put it off or pretend like it’s going to fix itself because that’s not how life works. If there is something wrong you fix it or it will only get worse.
~Katie Moore~
I love how you ended the blog post with the moral of the story and your use of side notes throughout the post. Overall, it was well written and easy to follow. I noticed one mistake, in the last sentence of the third paragraph. I believe that you intended to type “that” instead of the current “they”. I hope your knee heals soon.
Delete~Madison Wallace
I will repeatedly want to care for others, mostly friends or peers, just so that they know that I respect or trust them. Other times it’s just so that they can like me just the tiniest bit. I almost have goals that I will have people respect and like me as much as I do for them.
ReplyDeleteI always want to have people around me that I can entertain with my personality or that they can make me smile. I hate when I don’t do something right for someone and I will just apologize repeatedly, even if it’s a tiny mistake. I will put others before myself like giving a snack I was going to eat for a small supper because I leave straight from school to swim team and after that I will go straight to my dance class smelling like chlorine and with wet hair. Just writing this shows I also want to always stay busy. This is when I come to putting myself first. I will want to be active but I barely can tell when I have had enough. If my friends around me are still going when I feel like dying, I will still try to stay the same pace as them.
I just know that I wish to be around people that I know they will trust me and respect me. So far I have only found a handful of those people. And out of that handful I have one person I can really tell everything that I am feeling at anytime, and I have only known him since middle school. The respect has not come from a lot of people. I get called a wimp because I will flinch at somebody just tapping my shoulder; those people don’t see the times I fall in dance class and get right back up to continue the dance. I ignore the people that show no respect in class at school, swim practice, and dance class when I need to learn something. If they aren’t respecting the teacher and rest of the class, they don’t respect me.
Realizing now I have almost ranted just in the last paragraph and that people will not agree with what I have said. But I won’t change it because it is the truth and people that read it may or may not see that they are involved in it. I still face the same challenge of wanting to love and to be loved by my peers. I just hope that people can understand me someday and still accept me in their lives with what I feel.
Victoria C. Word
Go to sleep Tori. I tell you every day to pace yourself. Go YOUR pace not theirs. Haha I guess you can't slow down though. Just don't forget which friends are a phone call away. and actually eat food for crying out loud! I feel like your father sometimes having to remind you.
DeleteAnd in terms of the essay, write it when you're not half asleep and it'll be better.
Tyler Chapman
C. Joybell C. said “There is no such thing as a "broken family." Family is family, and is not determined by marriage certificates, divorce papers, and adoption documents. Families are made in the heart.” Divorce is a very common thing in the United States today. Some children grow up without a mom or dad, and sometimes a child’s parents get a divorce at some point while the child is still at home. For me, it was the second option. In the beginning, I was very upset and did not understand why, but I have grown to understand these things better. In my family and lifeskills classes, I was taught that divorce creates “broken families”, but from my personal experience, it can bring a family closer.
ReplyDeleteI was ten years old when my parents got divorced. I had just come back from 4-H camp a few days before they told me and my sister. We were called into their room and they news was broken to us. Naturally, I started bawling and was completely inconsolable. I did not understand why my parents had made this decision; all I knew was that “they did not love each other anymore and it was not my fault.” After a few weeks, I had to divorce care class and be with all of the little kids because I was not old enough to be in the big kids’ class. For a week, I had to go to this class and listen to the constant “It is not your fault. Your parents still love you.” It was not fun at all. As my ten year old self, I learned that divorce is not always a bad thing, but it changes life dramatically.
Now, six years post-divorce, I have gained a lot of new insights. The divorce was honestly for the better. My parents are much happier, I have met many new people and am happy to call them family, and I feel like my life has changed for the good. When I was ten, I thought my life was ruined and I would end up without one of my parents, but I have gotten much closer to both of them. The main thing I have learned is that even when your strongest support system is broken apart, it can always be rebuilt into something even better than it was before. My parents have learned that even though they are not a couple anymore, they can still get along and be friendly, especially when it involves their children. My sister has gained the insight that your life may seem like it is falling apart, but in the end, it turns out great, with many new people and experiences.
Divorce causes a lot of people’s worlds to turn upside down. At first I felt like that is what happened to me, but I now realize that was not the case. My parents did not have the typical nasty divorce, and are still friends. My life is better than it would have been, and I have learned so many new things from the divorce. I grew as an individual, and my family grew closer in some ways as well. There is no such thing as a “broken” family because everyone has a different life. Just because someone has a different way of going about their family does not mean that it is broken.
-Hannah Webber
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ReplyDeletePart I
ReplyDeleteAs a child I was told " I was the lucky one," "I was lucky 'she' walked out when 'she' did," "I was lucky I never had time to bond with my mother." I was told "Austin had time to bond,you never did." That was all a lie. I bonded to a point. No I didn't remember her. I couldn't tell you her hair color, her height, or tell you about her smile. I never was shown a photo of her. But on the inside I had bonded because when she left I lost part of my heart I can never get back...
As a child I never felt lucky. I always felt like I was the reason 'she' left. I remember asking questions about the subject, only to be told to run along and play, to be told I wasn't old enough to understand. The worst thing I think they ever told us was that when she left she took me. She told my brother and father she wanted nothing to do with austin. Yeah she kept me for a couple of months longer than she did him. But she finally just chose to abandon both of us. Austin and I always blamed our selves; but when they finally told us that she wanted one of us over the other, that only made us blame ourselves even more. he blamed himself because he thought I lost my chance at a to grow up with our 'mother;' i blamed myself for not holding on, not fighting to stay, for being to weak to have her keep us both.(No Austin and I never hated each other over this subject. We never said that it was one or the others fault. We blamed ourselves. We never once each other)
I grew up with pain. I grew up knowing betrayal. I grew up knowing exactly how it felt to have you life crumble. To have no one to lean on. No answers to why your life has to hurt so much. No answers to why you. I never once got a single answer. This wasn't the worst I had in store. No it was the very beginning... I was about to lose everything. I was about to change in a way that I could never be 'normal' again. Better yet I was about to become someone totally different, and there
was no turning back. This was a change i had no control over.
-Jennifer Lynn White
Part II
DeleteMy dad married again when I was 3ish.. this time marring the devil herself. She put us through hell. We were not aloud to speak of our mom or sisters. This was a rule we learned not to break very early on, because if we did break this rule, if we merely mentioned 'her' name we would be locked in our rooms for the rest of the day. Austin is the one who challenged her. He was the strong one...but as soon as he challenged that devil he meet a great deal of pain. He was grounded, he had to sit in a chair facing the wall for two weeks..doing nothing.(besides eating, school, and going to the bathroom) After years of her abuse to us, cheating on our father and her drug abuse my father left her. I was in 4th grade at the time. This was the same year my life took its fatal fall. This is when i really lost everything. This is when my pap-paw died. My pap-paw was everything to me. I talked for hours to that man. He was my best friend, and when he died i lost everything. I had no one to talk to. No one to go to. I had nothing. This was the same year, and around the same time my mother chose to be a mother.
She stayed around for about a year. She let us meet our two older sisters, I found out I had a younger brother.. (this was the only child she ever choose to raise.. this only made me wonder more...why i wasn't good enough to be raised by my mother. What had i done so wrong for her to hate me so much..why was she the only person i never could please..) I also found out i even had a niece...and a nephew on the way.. (my niece is probably in middle school and my nephew should be either in first grade.)
In the beginning she would come every Saturday and every Sunday for hours. she would hang out with her for hours, finally being able to have a 'normal life.' this continued for a while. One day we asked her why she left, she didn't answer us but i remember what she told our granny when she thought we couldn't hear. "I don't know why they blame me, they need to get over that. It was the past, I forgave them. They should be able to forgive me." This added to the pain I felt, it made me blame myself even more. It made me crave forgiveness. I wanted to forgive her, but there was a part of me that couldn't a part of me that knew the truth. a part of me that knew it wasn't my fault, that part wouldn't let me forgive her. after a while, she started to only come on sunday, and soon later she quit coming all together.
She basically stayed long enough for us to re bond, then she left without saying goodbye. She left, leaving us with the loss again. Leaving us craving her attention all over again. This time the betrayal was to much. This time it hurt bad enough that it took all of my power to just get up and go though a 'normal' routine day. I walked through life like a zombie. ignoring the people around me, blocking out any type relationships, terrified to be close to anyone. Terrified that everyone was going to betray me the way she did. the pain was consuming me, more each day.
JW
Part III
DeleteIt keep building up and building up. Finally I Broke my freshman year. I turned to drugs and alcohol to get away from the pain. IT numbed the pain i felt, it aloud me to be able to be around other people. It didn't take away the pain, it only made it livable. It allowed me to be able to do the things i enjoyed, and once the alcohol wasn't enough i turned to drugs. By the time sophomore year's winter break came around my pain turned to hatred. I'm not sure why my pain ever turned into hatred but im glad it did. When it turned into hatred it was as if i had found a ladder in the darkest, deepest whole ever. it helped me, it made it to wear i could go days with out drinking. Days soon turned to weeks. Weeks to months.
I face this hatred daily. I get up and sometimes I face pain instead. On those days its a challenge to just get dressed. its a challenge to put a smile on my face. on those days, I feel weak. I feel as if its my fault, I blame my self on those days, I blame myself that I don't reach out to her, I tell myself that if i would just act like a 'normal daughter she would come back. Then i wake up and realize it never was my fault, i fight down the pain so that I can live. I don't fake who I am. I prefer to hide my true feelings. I prefer to build up walls and not let people in. i do this because of pain. Pain can either consume you or shape you. I chose to accept the pain in ways others wouldn't. I chose to make it hatred. I chose to keep it, since after all I couldn't really leave it behind. No I don't let it define me but I also won't tell you it isn't apart of me.
Yes i see her everywhere, we don't acknowledge each other, Austin tries to but he wastes his time. Because she could care less, and she never did care. I tried to tell him this, just like he tried to tell me she did. Finally we settled on just leaving the other alone. This has been my biggest challenge ever. I over came a pain, that has shaped my life, a pain that has made me not want to keep on going. It turned into something that would give me a reason to keep on going. I wont forgive her, and but I wont blame myself ever again either. She walked out, I didn't.
Jennie White
You got heart Jenny. Don't lie to yourself and say you don't. Cuz it gives you the courage to be a friend and a good one at that. So don't if up or all of us, your friends, are gonna have to MAKE you see how good of a person you are.
DeleteJust saying
Tyler Chapman
On the day that we moved my mom went to check me out of school. Then later that night we went to go say our goodbyes too everyone it really didnt hit me until everyone one started to cry that we wont be seeing them for a long while and that things wont be the be same. we're moving almost to the other side of country . but on our way here it started to snow and i got excited because iv never seen snow before and i was also excited because i have never been to kentucky before . so when we got here i was surpised because louisville was a nice little city and i pictured it different in my head. everyone was so different they talked different, dressed different and westren hills is so small compared to the school i went, but at first i liked then after a while i started to get home sick and miss my famliy . i went from seeing them everyday too seeing every summer. i really regert moving here because i never get to see my family and friends and its boring dont get me wrong kentucky would be a nice place to visit but i would move back in a heart beat . for the most part though iv gotten used to it and i kind of feel like if i did move back it would be sooo different .
ReplyDeletequanesha
I was always a child who dwelt within myself. Having no siblings I learned to keep myself entertained in quiet ways. Drawing and reading and acting out scenes with figurines. That never left me. And in that way, my father and I were kindred spirits. He was a solitary, quiet man who would rather stay home and read a book than anything. I think that's why it took him a while to warm up to me; a baby was the opposite of his cup of tea, a whining, confused toddler the same.
ReplyDeleteIt wasn't that he didn't like me. I was just so foreign to him. A small, breakable package that required complete attention and made noises.
He didn't realize that I was a chip off the old block until after he and my mother divorced and I was three; I stayed at his apartment after school while my mom was at work. I wanted to watch T.V. Having nothing else, I suppose, he popped a documentary into the VCR. I was enchanted with it, and he with my curiosity.
Hearing the sweeping opening chords of “Walking With Dinosaurs” still pulls me to emotional shreds.
Not long after that, He began to take advantage of his bi-weekly weekend custody of me. He got a new house and I had my own room there and it was good.
He started reading Harry Potter to me, and Lord of the Rings. I reminded him how much he loved cartoons and we watched them all together every other Saturday. He introduced me to computers, another section of his personal paradise, and they quickly became part of my own. He'd play music from his youth,the 60's, and sing along with a soft voice in the car. “Lemon tree, very pretty, and the lemon flower is sweet, but the fruit of the poor lemon, is impossible to eat.”
Every day that he knew I'd be there, he'd get me a little present; a tube of bubbles or a new pony or a story book. He'd put it in my closet. And so every other Friday when I came in the front door I'd ask “Is there a surprise for me?”
He's always say “Maybe.” And he would always mean yes.
I think all the gifts he gave me were, at least somewhat, to make up for the lack of time he gave me. He could have gotten 50/50 custody, but he didn't. He chose solitude, and that's alright; he gave more of himself to me than he did to anyone else. I forgive him.
In second grade, when I got my first pair of glasses, I was upset. I thought I looked silly. I came in and sat on his couch and asked him if he thought so too. He gave me a pensive, concentrated look.
“You look studious.” He said with a smile.
I never worried about my glasses again.
We read all of the Lord of the Rings books, Hobbit included. We watched many a movie together. We got all the way to the sixth Harry Potter.
Then my mom got off the phone one day and told me he had gone to the doctor.
I was in fifth grade.
“Will he be alright, though? He'll get better.”
“We don't know.” She was caringly honest as she always is. I am thankful for that. “He has cancer, and that's very bad.”
His disease progressed slowly after that, but it seemed so fast. Soon he couldn't read to me anymore, not feeling well enough. Soon he would get up to go to the bathroom and be gone for two hours. I would sit on the couch and keep watching Angry Beavers like the naïve, innocent idiot I was. Soon he went to the hospital and stayed. Soon he couldn't talk anymore. I wish to God I could remember the last thing he said to me, but when you refuse to believe any words are the final ones you don't pay them as much mind.
He liked cats. I'd get books about cats and leave them at his bedside like he could read them. I'd draw cats in the back of them, as a surprise for when he finished. He never saw the drawings, of course. He couldn't lift a pencil anymore. He'd smile, croak a “Thank you” when he still could.
Samantha Hensley
Soon he came back home. A hospital bed looks so out of place in a living room. So does an unresponsive parent. I was still too stupid to think he would die.
ReplyDeleteI saw him die.
That sounds jarring but it wasn't so much, just the idea of it. All I saw was a comatose, frail and sunken silhouette that could have been my dad, I guess, in a crueler world. A heart monitor that gave a steady beep instead of the pulsing rhythm that had been there before. After that I don't remember much. I don't remember the next few weeks, except the funeral. It wasn't that bad. I cried some, not much. My great aunt or something gave me a hideous angel doll and I never saw her, or most of the people there, again. It hadn't set in yet.
So there is the change and challenge; the choice was how to deal with it. It took a while to set in.
I had just finished reading 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea. I realized that the number in the title was not the depth, but the distance the characters had traveled. I'll have to tell Daddy that, I thought to myself. Then it set in. I was in hysterics that evening.
Eventually I regained my footing and I only cried when things suddenly reminded me of him like tripping and falling face first into a memory.
Plastic dinosaurs, lemons, denim shirts, the smell of old paper backs and the sound of a dated windows pc booting up. Little senseless things.
I chose to get stronger.
No day to day problem compares to facing death. Less phases you when you've been phased to the breaking point. I'm not a goofy kid anymore. I'm goofy kid with a shifted paradigm. I don't complain much anymore. I'm naïve and lighthearted and I laugh and smile most of the time. I'm also tough and cold and real. More than real, Corporeal. People see me as a jester, and it's a guise I'm willing to accept, but I am a knight. My sword is intellect, I sharpen it each day; my armor is keen tenacity and it hardens with every blow.
I tell people my dad is dead when it seems appropriate. When people are sharing parent stories and waiting for my input, or when I use the past tense in reference to him and they ask why. They're usually shocked, then pitying, nursing. That's nice of them but I don't need it.
Not that I'm not sensitive; I want a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to be lent, and I will always, I promise you, do the same. But I want something else too: respect.
I want you to remember that Samantha Hensley is more than meets the eye.
Samantha, your blog post is truly inspirational and I couldn't help but tear up. Even though everyone might not have someone that they are close to pass away, eventually they will go through that experience making this a very relatable topic. I love how you mention how it has changed you but at the same time you don't let it define you. The memories you made with your dad is what intrigued me the most so maybe you could add a few more. Overall amazing post. :)
Deletep.s. you are so much more than what meets the eye!
Abigale Wilson
So we're supposed to write about a challenge we have faced, well if you would have asked me todo this 3 month ago I would have been clueless about what to write about, but my life has changed dramatically since he first day of junior year. After a long and happy 17 years of marriage, my parents have decided to get a divorce. Those of you who's parents have been divorced since you were little are provably thinking "That's not a challenge" Well to you I may but be but for me I think that tho is the biggest challenge I'm ever gonna face in life.
ReplyDeleteFor as long as I can remember my parents have been happy. They've had that type of relationship that everyone dreams about. They never fought in front of people, heck you would think that they didn't even fight at all. Then one day someone stopped trying in there relationship. Someone fell out of love with the other parson.
I can remember the day like it was yesterday, I got home from school and as soon as I walked in I could tell something was wrong. My mom and dad were both sitting on opposite ends of the couch, not even looking at each other, and the tv was off. (The tv is never off in my house). My mom looked at me and said we need to have a talk. I thought maybe they were mad about one of my grades or something. Never in a million years would I have guessed that the next words that would come out of her mouth was going to be "your dad and I have decided to get a divorce." I didn't believer her at first, I just stood there dumbfounded. I didn't know what to say or do. I thought that maybe I was the reason that they were doing this. Maybe it was all my fault. Maybe I had done something that tore there relationship apart. They assured me that was not the reason. The next week or so was the hardest if my life. My dad moving out, my mom always upset and crying. It was really hard on me to just sit back and watch this happen.
The next few weeks took a toll on me as well. I didn't want to talk to anyone, I didn't want to eat, I even had to cry my self to sleep a few times. Knowing that you're parents are never going to be together ever again is hard to swallow. My friends all assured me that they were there for me if I needed to talk, but they all seemed happy and I didn't want to bother them with my problems. So I put on a smile for everyone and acted happy, but inside I was crying. I didn't know what to do with my self. It was hard on me and I felt like no one really cared at all. I felt so alone. I felt like I had no one I could talk to or even trust. I was devastated. But after a few weeks I started to notice a change in my mom. She was happy again. Always smiling and laughing about things, so that gave me hope that I would get happier too. At times I still feel alone and sad, but I know that in the end I'm going to be happy and my parents are going to be happy and that's all that really matters to me.
~Christina Wray