Personal Narrative Essay: Do You Know Yourself?

Do you know yourself? If you were to look in the mirror right now could you see the image of you staring back? If you were standing in front of God right now could you explain to Him who you are? If you were to write a paper right and answer the prompt: “Who are you” could you do it?

If you answered no to one of these questions then you 're in good shape. If you answered no to two of these questions then you 're in even better shape and if you answered no to all of these then you 're in great shape. This may seem strange right now, but let me explain. Not knowing yourself is totally acceptable. The way I look at it is that the less you know yourself, the more you lean on God to help solve your confusion. If someone were to ask me these

When I went to bed around 11 o’clock, I was crying, like I usually did, but this time was different. I couldn’t fall asleep and my cries got heavier. I began hyperventilating, which soon woke my little sister, who was sleeping in the bed above mine. She called out to see if I was ok, but I was unable to respond. She ran down the hall to my parents room and told them that something was wrong with me. My parents ran to my bedroom, which awakened my whole family. My mom was yelling at me to respond, but I couldn’t. I was paralyzed. There I was sitting in a ball on my bed, hyperventilating uncontrollably, with my family standing in a circle around me. They had no idea what was going on, and there was no way for me to tell them. My mom crawled into bed with me and the two of us just laid there. She was silent, just listening to my deep, powerful sobs. It took a long time for me to calm down. It had been 5 hours since I first went to bed. Around 4 o’clock was the time I was able to sit up and answer my mom’s questions with one word answers. we talked the rest of the morning, and I told her all about what had been happening for the past 7 months, except I left out the part about being suicidal. I couldn’t bear to tell my mom how bad I was, and that I never told her before.
From that night on, my mom and I became so close. I knew that I was able to talk to her about anything, and every once in awhile she would check up

I started to cry all the time, even during school. I just couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. I was not the same person anymore. I felt hopeless. I didn’t think that anything would work and no one could do anything about it. I felt so alone and powerless. I kept thinking, "how could God be doing this to me. I 've been in so much pain for so long, when was it going to stop?" I was so frustrated with God that he wasn’t answering my prayers, he wasn 't helping me get through my problems, and I couldn’t help but feeling abandoned by him. This led me to start thinking that he wasn’t there listening to me. I started to question if there really was a God or if this whole Catholic faith was just a joke. I stopped believing in God, because if He was really there, then how could he let his child suffer like this? I would go to church still, but only because my parents made me, but I didn 't sing or say any if the prayers because I didn 't believe in anything they