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Through struggle and mental illness, I have fought my way and earned the position I hold now. While situations could be improved for me, I am satisfied with how I turned my life around in and outside of school. From before freshman year, I was told that I am going to private school, as the West Orange High School ruined my sister and the same would happen to me. Being convinced that the high school was for all the regular people, I was made to believe that I was so smart that I obtained the privilege to experience the Roman Catholic Private School, Seton Hall Prep. While not having a choice in the matter, I could not argue as I had no voice of my own to express my views on the situation. Being forced into a foreign school divided by town, class, race, and being forced to abandon my friends, certain thoughts such as. ¨This is for the better¨ and ¨I must do it for the better of my education¨ embedded itself into my mind. I would have continued to believe this, had I not began struggling in school. As grades began to dip down to the lowest I have ever experienced, I could not discover my problem. Am I just not paying much attention? Am …show more content…
I not studying heavily enough? Am I just not getting it? I instinctively pushed the blame onto myself and acted as such I am at fault. I carried the world on my back, but the weight only distracted me from how tired I was. Plagued by emotions throughout the year, I grew to resent the school for what it is doing to me.
Anxiety grew inside me like a parasite, feeding off what little friendships I had, my performance, and my well being. The school was draining me into a husk of my former self and a failure. To understand the social structure of the school, one has to be inside, and while athletes were at the top, those of which did not fit in were stuck in the bottom. This has been my first time being at the bottom. As my anxiety had grown to fill my head with negativity, I was finally given my chance. On the side of the hospital bed in which my mother had laid, my family had given me a choice as I had not had a voice before, the choice of Seton Hall or West Orange. The conflict in my mind over this situation induced stress on whether I will stay or
move. I decided to leave, and to seek therapy, which ended up being the turning point of my life. That summer, I had let my mind heal and rework itself to the point in which I no longer needed therapy. As it shows, Sophomore year was a full upgrade. I finally was able to unleash my full potential and accomplished high grades for all my classes. I finally felt comfortable, and continued to do adequately in school to this present day. While my GPA has been scarred and will never fully live up to what it should be, I am satisfied that I turned an ~2.00 to a 3.328. Not only was the road was long and exhausting, but I still have problems that stem from this, but I deal with them to my best ability straight away. I have grown stronger than I ever believed I am, and I am finally content. I have taken my future and taken complete charge over myself. I have turned into a vigorous worker when inspired which allows me to focus on opportunities. Self-discovery has led me to figure out fluidity of my personality and the limits of what I can handle. In the end, this overall experience changed me into a better person, and I would not have discovered myself without it.
Atlanta, GA, is one of the most exciting cities in the nation. Not only is it one of the most populated cities, but it has one of the largest metropolitan areas as well. This city is a fantastic option for those making the move to Georgia for a number of reasons. If you are considering a move to Atlanta, here are some things you will want to know.
It was the fourth year of my school carrier. In other words, the year of truth if I would make the cut to the higher education track. I was nervous because I knew that I would be capable of going this route, but I the feeling of concern was stronger because I haven’t had performed very well in my fourth year so far. At the end of the school year, I received the shocking news that I didn’t make the cut to go to the school which would have had allowed me to go to University later on in my life. I was sad, disappoint in myself, and lost self-esteem in my educational abilities. At this time, I was more embarrassed then able to realize the real benefit of a system which early on tracks children’s
I felt like my parents thought I was so stupid because i didn’t get in. Day after day, I kept asking myself, “What did i do wrong?”. Everyday i thought, maybe i shouldn't even be in eighth grade because i was supposed to be in seventh grade because i was born in 2002. I felt to stupid and dumb that i just kept thinking that over and over again. When people mentioned SHC at all i would start to tear up. Or when people asked me if i got in or not. I tried all the time to not bawl my eyes out in front of them. I got into Mercy but I didn't really care about that school. I had a friend that is a sophomore now and I think that she told me that she was waitlisted and got in and that gave me a little bit more hope. I was so ready to just go to Wallenburg even though I completely hated that school so much. I just wanted to push on and keep going just Like Odysseus. Even though he had lost everyone and his hope, he still kept pushing on and didn’t give up because he was still determined to reach his goal to get back home to his wife. My goal was to eventually somehow go to SHC.
I soon found myself at the open door of Mrs. Walker’s office. I could hardly contain my excitement as I situated myself in the cushioned black chair in front of her. She said to me delicately with compassionate eyes, “I know how bad you want to go, but only one student from our school was selected to attend. It was not you.” She encouraged me to pursue other opportunities over the summer, but her words went in one ear and out the other. I left her office with a pout on my face, feeling somber and
Anxiety ran throughout my entire body the morning before my first class of college began. Not knowing what to expect of my professors, classmates, and campus scared me to death. I knew the comparison to senior year of high school and freshman year of college would be minute, but never did it occur to me how much more effort was need in college until that morning, of course. Effort wasn’t just needed inside of the classroom with homework and studying but also outside of it where we are encouraged to join clubs, get involved and find a job. Had I known the transformation would be so great, I’d have mentally prepared myself properly. It’s easy playing “grown-up” in high school when one doesn’t have to pay expensive tuitions, workout a
Before you begin reading the main narrative of my essay, I want to let you in on some details about my life and myself. I was born in Manhattan, New York and when I was about twenty two days old, I boarded a plane with my parents on a journey across the United States to the city of San Francisco, then to the town of Grass Valley. This is where my grandmother and grandfather resided. They had been telling my parents that the city of Manhattan was no place to raise a child and that we should move to California and live with them. Before making this life changing decision of leaving most of their friends and loved ones in New York to come to California, my parents sent me off to live in India with my uncle. Keep in mind, I was about the age of two when this all happened. The opportunity of leaving me with my uncle gave my parents about a year to think things over and pull themselves together, in efforts to properly raise a child in a country that was so
In the beginning of September 2005, disappointment and excitement revealed on my face when I boarded the plane to move to the United States of America. The feeling of leaving my families, friends, school, clothes, and culture in Cameroon presented a hardship for me on this journey. Of course, I anticipated this new life because it indicated a fresh start. I envisioned it resembling life in movies, where everything appeared to be simple and life was simply excellent. All things considered, I was heading off to the United States, known for the American dream. To me it meant that everyone is given equal opportunity to prosper, achieve a family, and attain a successful job as long as they are hardworking and determined. I felt exceptionally honored and blessed to have this open door since I realized that it was not provided to everybody. Coming to America denoted my transitioning on the grounds that I deserted my previous lifestyle in Cameroon, began a new chapter in my life once again, and finally became a much grateful individual.
As to be expected, I like anyone else, faced challenges at home that tested my academic abilities. In dealing with the emotional abuse of an alcoholic-bipolar mother, I persevered and did everything I could to prove I was better than the mother who was raising me.
Every new graduated high school student wants to get out of their parents’ house. They want independence, and to feel like they are going somewhere in life. Well, that’s what I thought. Moving out was the hardest thing I had done so far. I had just graduated and was barely making any money but I thought oh well so many people move out this young I’m just going to have to work harder, maybe skip school this semester until I can get on my feet to take classes. I knew all too well that I wouldn’t be able to afford it on my own, so I asked my best friend if she wanted to live with me. Little did we both know that living with another person would be a very different experience then living with our parents. We had plenty of fights over messy rooms, the empty fridge, empty bank accounts, and annoying neighbors.
As a young adult in high school I was given a lot of responsibility along with peer pressure to exceed my family’s principles. The first day of high school as a freshman, was overwhelming, stressful, and full of anxiety. I felt as if I had no one to count on including my family and friends. Felt alone most of the time and didn’t unspoke about problems that began to bother me emotionally, physically, and mentally. My problems arose freshman through sophomore year. I reached a point where I could no longer keep this a secret.
Everything seems like it’s falling out of place, it’s going too fast, and my mind is out of control. I think these thoughts as I lay on my new bed, in my new room, in this new house, in this new city, wondering how I got to this place. “My life was fine,” I say to myself, “I didn’t want to go.” Thinking back I wonder how my father felt as he came home to the house in Stockton, knowing his wife and kids left to San Diego to live a new life. Every time that thought comes to my mind, it feels as if I’m carrying a ten ton boulder around my heart; weighing me down with guilt. The thought is blocked out as I close my eyes, picturing my old room; I see the light brown walls again and the vacation pictures of the Florida and camping trip stapled to them. I can see the photo of me on the ice rink with my friends and the desk that I built with my own hands. I see my bed; it still has my checkered blue and green blanket on it! Across from the room stands my bulky gray television with its back facing the black curtain covered closet. My emotions run deep, sadness rages through my body with a wave of regret. As I open my eyes I see this new place in San Diego, one large black covered bed and a small wooden nightstand that sits next to a similar closet like in my old room. When I was told we would be moving to San Diego, I was silenced from the decision.
My life has been full of so many events. I’ve lived through many hard times combatting my anxiety and depression, while having family problems, and trouble with many other areas in my life. School was a daily problem, and a problem that couldn’t really be avoided or fixed. I really hope that the rest of my life goes in this upward climb pattern that I am in right now, although I expect to have my ups and downs, but now I at least know that I am prepared for them.
When faced with new environmental changes and a lifestyle to adapt to, many college students feel overwhelmed by homesickness. Homesickness is most commonly due to anxiety, depression, and loneliness. A research studied concluded that homesick college students are three times more likely to drop out than non-homesick students. For many first-year college students, being away from home can be like an adventure. It’s exhilarating to be off on your own and completely in charge of your life and social well-being. I know that during my first week in college, I didn’t feel homesick at all because I was so anxious to meet new people, explore campus, and check out my classes. However, as I got more used to
As I entered high school the pressure to succeed and live up to my parent’s expectations increased. I joined clubs that my parents approved of, I took classes that would look good on my transcript, and I studied 24/7 to keep a good GPA. Seeing the people around me happy and proud of me was a good feeling. I stayed up all night just so I could study and get good grades that would make my family and teachers proud. Junior year I never got more than four hours of sleep a night. I was a zombie just going through the motions of life. As I began to look for colleges, the pressure to be #1 grew. My parents took me on countless college tours, thirty seven to be exact, in order to find the “right school for me.” My parents drove me around the country visiting tons of top engineering schools. Occasionally we would visit schools I wanted to visit. But every visit went the same. If my parents chose the school they smiled the whole tour and spent the car ride home talking about how great it was. If it was a school I chose
I made the decision to come to Baylor early in 1999 while my freshman year was still in session. At first, people thought I was joking about leaving, but when I persisted in telling them, they had no choice but to accept my decision. I had spent most of my life with some of these people, while some I had known for less than a year. I didn't think about that in the beginning. At first I was excited to go, but about the time of this party, the anxiety of leaving hit me like a sledgehammer. The party was August 10th. I left for Baylor ten days later on August 20th. Those ten days were some of the most anxious of my entire life. Was I willing to give up my happy existence to step into an unknown world of doubt? Well, as you may have guessed, since I am writing this paper, I was willing to take that chance. The question of whether it was worth it or not has yet to be answered.