The tears hit my face like a midday Georgia thunderstorm–little sprinkles, then, BAM! The floodgates of heaven opened. I’d made up my mind. I was fed up with the bullies, my eating disorder, living, breathing, being. I was going to take my life that night. Just then, a familiar face that hadn’t been an ally before walked up and held a conversation with me that would go on to change the rest of my life. “Hey Jamie, thanks for holding down the alto section today; you guys were great! Your hair is so pretty today! You are such a beautiful girl! Always remember that.” I was stunned. After that short, 20-second conversation, I recalled one of my favorite Bible verses: “I will bless my people and their homes around my holy hill. And in the proper …show more content…
season I will send the showers they need. There will be showers of blessing.” All throughout most of my childhood, I was that girl. The one whose paper you cheat with, the one who gave up just about anything to fit in. I was bullied, pushed around, harassed, and even attacked by the hateful words of the “in-crowd.” Because I was “smart” enough to let bygones be bygones, my anger sat under the surface, festering, boiling. Like a lot of people, I turned to food for help and a balm for my soul. I ate a chip for every mean word, a scoop of ice cream for every hurtful glare. I’d stopped praying. God didn’t seem to be working fast enough for me. The only thing I still cared about was chorus. Singing was my refuge. For that short, 55-minute class, I could be me, the happy me, the me who still cared, the me who always had a song in her heart. Although singing put an awe-inspiring joy inside me, I was unknown, irrelevant, and my teacher and I lacked a connection even cats and dogs shared. There was nothing. No emotion. No connection. And I intended to keep it that way. She pushed and pushed and pushed to try to get to know me, but I pushed harder, and her efforts were useless against the wall I’d built up to protect myself from trusting anyone. This teacher’s name was Miss Phillips. She was young, had great style, and didn’t carry the big, charcoal colored circles under her eyes like a lot of educators I knew. She made chorus enjoyable, and though I tried to stop her, she tried to get to know the real me.
But, as I said, the bullying got worse, and I’d had it. I stopped trying altogether. I was done with it all. That morning, I left a note for each member of my family and went to school. It was a horrible day, per usual. When I got to chorus, however, my whole life changed with a less than 20-second conversation. After her flood of compliments, all I could sputter out was, “Oh thank you, Miss Phillips, see you tomorrow!” And I would. I would see her tomorrow. I would see the world tomorrow. In a short 20 seconds, she turned my whole life around. I gained a whole new sense of self that I still have today. I overcame my bullies and beat my eating disorder. I still have bad days here and there, but for now, I can’t complain. I am so grateful for what Miss Phillips did for me that day and I make sure she knows it. I am forever in debt to her, because truthfully, if it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be here. This is a testament of true love from God. He saw and heard my silent heart weeping and he answered my prayers. He knew in that moment I needed that push, that “right on time” blessing. This goes to show that God hears, sees, and feels the contents of my heart, and in due time, will
always give the right blessing.
Growing up as an only child I made out pretty well. You almost can’t help but be spoiled by your parents in some way. And I must admit that I enjoyed it; my own room, T.V., computer, stereo, all the material possessions that I had. But there was one event in my life that would change the way that I looked at these things and realized that you can’t take these things for granted and that’s not what life is about.
changed and that was her belief in me… because of her unconditional love I am the person that I am today… her reassurance and patience made all the difference.
Personal Narrative There lay her limp body staring up at us. Her cold eyes were no longer
I would shut my eyes because I knew what was coming. And before I shut my eyes, I held my breath, like a swimmer ready to dive into a deep ocean. I could never watch when his hands came toward me; I only patiently waited for the harsh sound of the strike. I would always remember his eyes right before I closed my own: pupils wide with rage, cold, and dark eyebrows clenched with hate. When it finally came, I never knew which fist hit me first, or which blow sent me to my knees because I could not bring myself to open my eyes. They were closed because I didn’t want to see what he had promised he would never do again. In the darkness of my mind, I could escape to a paradise where he would never reach me. I would find again the haven where I kept my hopes, dreams, and childhood memories. His words could not devour me there, and his violence could not poison my soul because I was in my own world, away from this reality. When it was all over, and the only thing left were bruises, tears, and bleeding flesh, I felt a relief run through my body. It was so predictable. For there was no more need to recede, only to recover. There was no more reason to be afraid; it was over. He would feel sorry for me, promise that it would never happen again, hold me, and say how much he loved me. This was the end of the pain, not the beginning, and I believed that everything would be all right.
That day I was hanging out with my friend Nora. Nora helped me go through my lines and my short, short song.
SWISH! I turn my head to the right with a grin and see my mom cheering as I scored my first points of the season. The last game of the season I scored my first points of my middle school basketball “career.” Now sit back and relax as you read the story of how I got my first points in middle school basketball.
As I walk into Hazen and begin my high school journey I think to myself what I want to accomplish when I leave. Hazen is like the older sister I never had, someone who you hate occasionally, but look up to and pushes you to achieve your personal goals. As I walk through those Highlander doors I was immediately surrounded by the brightest minds, talent, and innovative bunch of my generation. Each one unique and each one having something special to offer, and I soon realized that I want to leave high school like I was never leaving. By making the most out of my high school experience I want to gain maturity and the satisfaction of knowing I made a difference in my school and community. By becoming a member of the National
It was all fun and games until we heard the sirens. We went to the cops terrified that we were in so much trouble but we didn't know why, once the police told us we did nothing wrong, we all learned a very important lesson. Ask for permission before you do things. It was a bright sunny summer day in August and my friends and I went down to CMH high school to play football. Me and my friend were captains and we picked out teams. A couple of touchdowns later we heard the sirens “Wee-Woo Wee-Woo”,we were scared out of our minds.
As we all waited in line to go into the concert there was a thrill of excitement in the air. I was standing there with two of my friends. when we saw a few other people we knew. " Hey, come over here!" I bellowed.
Melanie woke up with nothing other than research on her mind. She knew that her last name was Easton and so was her mother's. What she didn't know was if that was her mother’s married name, or for that matter, if her mother had ever been married.
One sunny afternoon my friends and I decided to go on a road trip to a small resort. We packed everything up and decided on the way across the Wisconsin Bridge that we all wanted to go to the Wisconsin Dells. This car ride was about to be long because not everyone in the car gets along.
Here we are, 13 years old me. It was summer, in 2017. My friend Bryan and I were going into eighth grade, and starting to look at relationships more seriously. Bryan wasn’t really into them at this point, so when a girl started to like him, he didn’t care. We met this girl named Krista, from other friends. She was 5’3”, pale, funny, and caring. Krista immediately went after Bryan, doing whatever she could to make him happy. Bryan finally had to tell her how he actually felt. After doing so, she came to me. Looking for comfort, in which I gave her. We both started to catch feelings after talking for a week or so. Then one night, everything changed. She was mine, and I was hers. We had gone to Panera for a “first date” and we had a blast. We sat next to each other, I had my hand around her and her head was on my shoulder. I don’t think I had ever been so happy in my whole life. All I could think was, how did I, pale, short, athletic, and crazy, get a girl like that.
The next year Mrs. Groover appointed me to be stage manager. I was nervous, but she knew that I was ready and she trusted me to get the job done. After that musical, she was impressed by my work ethic and asked me to be the stage manager again for the next show. Of course, I agreed. As the year progressed, she saw me begin to come out of my shell.
Henning had stopped the rehearsal one day, and gathered the choir for an announcement. I didn’t realize it at the time, but Mr. Henning was setting me up for a musical solo for the concert, and little did I know that he was frustrated at the lack of bass support. He had spent countless rehearsals with me trying to get me “concert” ready. I took it as training to help my singing voice, he took it a step further to get me ready for a solo at the concert. Once I realized his announcement in that it was intended for me, I felt as if I was put on the spot.
My alarm clock ringed off at 4am, buzzing underneath my pillow. Immediately, I got up and switched it off hoping no one would awaken. The room was extremely quiet, faintly hear my brother snoring in the room across me. The raindrops on my window were starting to multiply, the sky becoming darker. I was worried. I didn’t know if this was the right thing to do, but I reassured myself that everything would work out. I grabbed my old bag that my mother bought me as a gift for Christmas. It was leather, built with sturdy straps and two slots with zippers that could fit almost everything inside. I grabbed the polished keys from my dresser, opening the window ever so slightly. I quickly hopped out and ran towards the old motorcycle, started the engine,