Wait a second!
More handpicked essays just for you.
More handpicked essays just for you.
overcoming trauma essay
essay on trauma recovery
essay on trauma recovery
Don’t take our word for it - see why 10 million students trust us with their essay needs.
Recommended: overcoming trauma essay
I remember an old saying my mother used to tell me, “Never say never”. Is this true? I would have never expected this to be true till something happened to me that changed my life till this very day. Growing up I was oddly very cold hearted. I guess I was never the gurly girl always crying after a finger nail broke or the kind of person that wore her heart on her sleeve. I would always keep things to myself and let it be the day someone saw me cry. Most people just thought I wasn’t human. Crying wasn’t something I was used to but I didn’t know one instance would make me shed oceans.
I guess I was the only dry eyes at every funeral I ever attended. My uncle’s funeral, my grandfather’s funeral, pretty much everyone’s funeral, I would just sit in the back and pray for it to be over. Everyone had so much grief that to a certain point I felt jealous I couldn’t feel such raw emotion. I think I should be put in Ripley’s World Record for attending the most funerals in a lifetime yet not shedding a single tear. It was like I was a regular customer at funerals. Everyone around me was dying and crying and it didn’t phase me one bit. I remember attending every single funeral with my best friend. We were so close she was peanut and I was jelly. She would always cry and sympathize for everyone. If I ever told her about a death she would always cry in my arms didn’t matter if she knew them or not. I was always there for her and she was always there for me. At the funerals we attended she would joke after sobbing for hours that maybe I should go to the bathroom and pour water going down my eyes. She used to always make me laugh. I remember specifically in my grandfathers funeral she told me, “Johanna would you cry if I died?” I said “Hell no u...
... middle of paper ...
...lieve she would wake up and still be with us. I’ve never cried for anyone or ever in my life and it was a shock to me. She meant the world to me and I guess you never know what you have till it’s gone. I still shed tears for her and I don’t think I’ll ever stop doing so.
I never knew id cry so much for someone else or feel like my world was ending. I never expected that would happen to me, my best friend committing suicide without any notice. I never expected to react the way I did on that day. I used to be so cold hearted and emotionless and not a care in the world. After my best friend passed away, it opened a door of emotion I never thought I had. Now it’s so easy for me to sympathize with people who have lost loved ones and to console them through their grief. Katherine Peralta is the reason why I shed tears every night when I fall asleep.
After she passed away in 2006 I visited her grave one more time and that was the last time I went. It took me nine years to be able to go back, because I just didn’t want to remember the last days I spend with her. The last time I was at her
I hid my face as I sat desperately alone in the back of the crowded church and stared through blurry eyes at the stained glass windows. Tears of fear and anguish soaked my red cheeks. Attempting to listen to the hollow words spoken with heartfelt emotion, I glanced at his picture, and my eyes became fixed on his beloved dog. Sudden flashes of sacred memories overcame me. Memories of soccer, his unforgettable smile, and our frequent exchange of playful insults, set my mind spinning. I longed only to hear his delighted voice once more. I sat for what seemed like hours in that lonely yet overcrowded church; my tears still flowed, and I still remembered.
When I was twelve years old, a close friend of mine passed away. At first, I didn’t know how to process what was happening. How can someone I’ve known for the majority of my life be gone? But then it finally hit me. My friend was really gone. There would be no more days challenging
A moment in time that I hold close to myself is the funeral of my grandmother. It occurred a couple of weeks ago on the Friday of the blood drive. The funeral itself was well done and the homily offered by the priest enlightened us with hope and truth. But when the anti-climatic end of the funeral came my family members and relatives were somberly shedding tears. A sense of disapproval began creeping into my mind. I was completely shocked that I did not feel any sense of sadness or remorse. I wanted to feel the pain. I wanted to mourn, but there was no source of grief for me to mourn. My grandma had lived a great life and left her imprint on the world. After further contemplation, I realized why I felt the way I felt. My grandmother still
Have you ever heard of Tupac, the 1990 hip-hop sensation. Have you heard how he died, or even who killed him? Well, this is what this essay is about, the murder of Tupac Shakur, also known as Makaveli. The murder of Tupac Shakur is a conspiracy topic. A conspiracy is a secret plan by a group to do something unlawful or harmful. Many humans believe that Tupac is still alive and in hiding, while the other percentage think he is dead.
“Bereavement is not a one-dimensional experience. It’s not the same for everyone and there do not appear to be...
I, of course, knew my mother as a mother. As I have reached adulthood and become a mother myself, I have also known her as a friend. My mom shared much of herself with me, and I saw sides of my mother as she struggled with her cancer that I had never seen before, especially her strong belief in positive thinking and the importance of quality of life. I was privileged to know so many facets of my mother, but certainly I did not know all. There were parts of her life that I didn’t see, relationships that I didn’t know about. Last night, at the wake, so many stories were told to me about my mom’s strength, courage, humor, kindness, her quietness, her loyalty as a friend. It was so special to hear of these things that my mom said and did, to know some of these other parts of her life. I hope that her friends and family will continue to share these stories with me and with each other so we can continue to know and remember my mom.
When I look over my “ The Loss Of My Sister’ essay I wrote it makes me proud of myself to know I was that strong to write about such a close topic to me and my family. I always wanted to write the story of my sister but I never had an opportunity to. I always kept quite about the situation I went through because I did not want the sorrow and pity from others. When ever I did tell someone that I have a dead sister, they would respond “ I don’t know what to say other than I'm sorry” it makes me feel awkward because I don’t know if I say thank you or it’s okay? Since I wrote about what happened I decided I’d write about how it is now without her.
I miss her and I’ll miss her always. My aunt, Catherine passed away on Christmas 1997, and it was the biggest chock for my whole family and me. I was living in Syria at that time and my parents flew to Switzerland for the funeral.
Two years and four months ago I died. A terrible condition struck me, and I was unable to do anything about it. In a matter of less than a year, it crushed down all of my hopes and dreams. This condition was the death of my mother. Even today, when I talk about it, I burst into tears because I feel as though it was yesterday. I desperately tried to forget, and that meant living in denial about what had happened. I never wanted to speak about it whenever anyone would ask me how I felt. To lose my Mom meant losing my life. I felt I died with her. Many times I wished I had given up, but I knew it would break the promise we made years before she passed away. Therefore, I came back from the dead determined and more spirited than before.
Dr. Munter's comments: The purpose of this assignment was to relate an event that changed the direction of your life. Not only does this student successfully accomplish this task, he does it with a certain amount of understatement. The instruction “to show, not tell” is beautifully and subtly completed. There is also a nice balance of long and short sentences, unusual similes, and the sense that the author allows the reader to view this event through the eyes of an eight-year-old. Overall, the writing is clean, simple in technique, yet powerful in its message.
In my life time, I have experienced many deaths. I have never had anyone that was very close to me die, but I have shed tears over many deaths that I knew traumatically impacted the people that I love. The first death that influenced me was the death of my grandfather. My grandfather passed away when I was very young, so I never really got the chance to know him. My papaw Tom was my mothers dad, and she was very upset after his passing. Seeing my mom get upset caused me to be sad. The second death that influenced my life was the death of my great grandmother. My great grandmother was a very healthy women her whole life. When she was ninety three she had
Everyone has milestone days in his/her life that change the direction of his/her life for better or worse. Let me tell you one of my experiences that I will never forget from when I was 12 years old.
The funeral and wake were especially difficult because of having to stand in the greeting line. Having to greet everyone is truly annoying. This is especially true when you don’t know who most of the people are, and when you yourself are under emotional duress. That point aside, it was very interesting to see the reactions of the different people. One thing I noticed was the conversations between my father’s cousins. They were depressed, but not because of the death. The overall tone was “who’s going to be next”; they were all in their fifties and sixties. At this time I was 25 years
My eyes were deteriorating fast since I started using Tumblr. Driving to school past the park I came to terms it was autumn my favourite season: Trees almost naked with every branch bare, hearing the sound of rustling when people stomping through a crowd of crunchy leaves, though when the wind breathes it accelerates a leafy tornado swirling in a circular motion, smelling a fresh batch of rain from minutes ago and seeing the glistening as the biggest star made I admired. I use to walk to school every morning before my mum left us. Dropping Kaylee off at school I took a right turn where Jessica insisted to meet by the cascade fountain. I parked and by squinting my eyes I could already see she was dressed impressively kooky today. A jacket duplicating the print of a burgundy floral couch, vintage purple satin blouse with J’s scattered all over in different colours, an eagle bolo tie, the stripy snazzy saffron skirt, suede slip on shoes and to compliment her rouge knitting glasses someone had gifted. She ran to me.