Personal Narrative Analysis

“There is no need for you to be so stressed, just relax,” my parents told me. I’ve heard those words so many times it has become an echo. Their body language shows indifference in the way they brush it off as no big deal and how their body position stays the same. They don’t lean in attentively or reach their hand out to comfort me. I can’t be stressed, but I’m expected to reach the high standards my parents hold for me. Sometimes it feels like the bar is set so high it’s like reaching for the clouds, trying to get a grasp on any wisp of an achievement I can muster. My parents don’t see it that way though. They can only perceive what it must be like from where they stand but I’m the one experiencing it. To me the situation is overwhelming and

My parents taught me the alphabet, how to do basic math, and how to read before I reached the age of four. I enjoyed being able to do all these things. Every time I gave the right answer or read a sentence with ease, my eyes lit up with happiness and I would bounce up and down with joy. Being able to learn all of that allowed me to skip preschool and start in kindergarten. I remember excelling at everything thrown at me. When I was asked to read, the sentences flowed out of my mouth fluidly; one after the other. I could, arguably, read better than most that actually went through preschool. Math was even more simple for me. I could take one look at the problem and my mind sped into high gear giving me the answer in only seconds. This was only the

I joined the soccer team, Girl Scouts, orchestra, volleyball, choir, show choir, and JOOI club. Even with the added pressures through my school career, I still managed to keep the good grades and be the good kid my parents wanted me to be. It seemed to my parents that the pressure never bothered me, though that was never the case. Pressure makes it easier for me to work. It makes me focus and work harder so that the pressure is relieved and I can relax for a little while. Sometimes it’s too much and I get extremely stressed; which has happened a lot more in recent years. Stress makes me feel like I’m in a box and the walls are closing in on me and I feel claustrophobic. My entire body gets tense and the muscles won’t relax until I rid myself of the problem. It’s like I’m holding my breath the entire time. I remember one time I told my mom about a bad grade I received on a test and I could immediately tell she wasn’t happy about it. She sounded sympathetic when she said, “That’s okay next time you can do better.”, but her face told a different story. It became more stern and she had a little tilt in her head that went along with the authority in her tone; doing better on the next test wasn’t only an encouragement it was more of an