The threshold goblin stood before me, between me and the end of my quest. “You are small, you are weak, you know nothing!” He screeched. My blood started to boil and my anger built. I shouted back, “That’s not true! I’ve learned enough to get this far!” The goblin smirked and said slyly, “Prove it then puny human! If you do, I will let you pass and have the treasure down the path.” I considered this for a moment, realizing that I would most definitely impress him with my development and gain of knowledge so far on my quest. “Fine!” I shot back. “Ask me any questions about my academic progress. And I’m sure by the end of this encounter, I will be on the other side of you claiming my well-earned reward.” I could see the goblin was troubled by
Reflecting on this, an aspect that stands out is the date of 1993. Over twenty-four years ago, a prominent issue regarding rehabilitation for inmates remains the same. Over half of the people incarcerated experience withdrawal from an addiction though prisons turn away when there are clearly people in need. When proper treatment and rehabilitation is denied, inmates with serious addictions or mental disabilities continue to worsen. “About 85 percent [of California prisoners] are substance abusers.
Pt. reported positive activities that he involves himself to stay busy and keep recovery on track are working, remodeling his house, exercising, going to the beach early in the morning and meditating there. Pt. identified his wife and two sons as his main supportive people. Pt. indicated that he loves his wife and trusts her. At the end of the session Counselor explained that no matter how strong someone is, counting on his willpower to remain clean and wanting to be abstinent is not enough by itself. Counselor told him to be open to the idea to come back to the program or to call the program for any help to do
Overcoming “The” Struggle I don’t recall having a hard time learning how to read. It was one of those things that just came easily to me for some reason. For the most part I enjoyed reading as well. The only time I didn’t enjoy reading was when I didn’t understand a certain word or a certain phrase.
Second semester of my sophomore year is when my life got flipped around. It was the middle of the season for basketball when I was struck by a knee on my shoulder at practice. I didn 't think much about it at the time, all I knew was that I was in pain. I was a starting post on JV as well as a full time varsity player. The last thing I needed was to get injured when my basketball career was just getting started.That day started a winding road that has not found an end even to this day. Doctors appointments after doctors appointments, they just couldn 't find what was wrong with my shoulder. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. Injection after injection, just trying to find a cure for my pain, but nothing seemed to be
A Challenging Life Transition No matter how prepared an individual may be or expecting of a death, to lose a family member to death can be a traumatic experience. The grief process is a difficult process. However most understand that death is a natural and expected life event (McBride, and Simms, 2001). With that said it usually does not make the death of family member any easier to absorb emotionally. Although I have familiarly and awareness because of the deaths of my Father and Sister, it does not mean that I am comfortable with death, or have all the right words to say to comfort a person in the grieving process.
When I was eleven years old, I tore my anterior cruciate ligament, more commonly known as the ACL while playing in a football game. Being only eleven years old, this was a pretty unusual injury as most ACL tears do not happen until mid to later teens. Hearing that I tore my ACL was pretty devastating. I did not know much about it, but I knew enough to know I would be out of sports for a long time. The next nine months of my life were spent with one goal in mind: getting back to sports.
In my brief life, I have overcome a lot of adversity. My mom fled Mexico with her three young children to escape domestic violence. When we came to this country we had only a few personal belongings and the promise of a better future. We came to this country and lived in a small trailer with no toilet other than a bucket, and no shower except for the one that was lent to us from the kindness of a stranger, our new neighbor. As a single parent, my mother had to work day and night to support us. While she was working long hours cleaning people’s houses, as the oldest of three children, I had to quickly learn how to cook, how to clean and take care of my siblings. From getting the kids ready for school, helping them with their homework, and
How a person behaves, what they say, what they do, where they go, what they watch, what they listen to all comes down to three things…what they believe, who they believe, and how much they believe it. As followers of Christ, we will act, speak, and respond differently than when we did beforehand all based on believing the Word of God as true. For me, sometimes believing is hard and seems downright impossible because of situations and circumstances that are beyond my personal control. Sometimes I even question God, His ways, and His plans, and then, He reminds me not to lean on my own understanding, but on His. It’s okay to have questions, but it’s not okay to lose faith over them.
I used to be so oblivious. I would attend school every day and criticize my surroundings, little did I know how much I actually had. Come junior year, I observed a flyer for a club called S.A.L.T. (Student-Athlete Leadership Team), it seemed interesting to me so I decided to fill out an application. During our first meeting at 6:45 in the morning, Coach Jones, the head of the club, explained, “I did not cut anyone since you will cut yourself, you will give up and you will not want to put the work in, so you will stop coming. As a result, I will know who our leaders are”. That proclamation was something that genuinely made me think.
Hi, my name’s Donovan. I’m 17 years old and graduated this year with honors. I was raised with Christian values in mind, and attended a Methodist school. I was raised in the Christian faith yet I find myself, as with some of my friends who were raised in the same conditions, we seem to be growing farther away from our upbringing as we age. I find myself simply not understanding as time goes by, a complete polar opposite from the song ‘Farther Along’.
Andrew, my older brother, in middle of the road he was tired to keep ride the ox for 1 month. He asked me to replace him, so he can get some sleep. But then I do not have any experience of riding ox, that cause our wagon go wrong trail. The sky was dark like almost rain, I was panic. Everyone was in poor health because digest least food. It will take the several days to get back the trail, I scare that we can’t get back in time.
It was a taciturn gloomy morning, the year of 1862. The 12th of September. At the end of it, I might be with my family again or buried someplace underground. It was my time to go into battle as soon as I finish saying goodbye to my loved ones. The tears slid down my wife’s face and my daughters lingered into their mother’s arms to cover their dripping faces. I gave everyone one last family hug as my wife said to me “Be careful”.
I constantly stay ‘plugged into’ my recovery community in a variety of different ways. I know that it plays a huge part in my personal recovery in helping me stay clean and sober. A few of the ways I am able to stay connected are through hospitals and institutions, as well as picking up service commitments at my home group. I am a big advocate of H&I’s because they were a key component of my recovery when I was in treatment. I was tremendously inspired when I heard someone who was doing well in the outside world share their experience, strength, and hope. I believe that coming into a treatment center to share the message gives the clients that are in treatment a great amount of hope and shows them that they are very capable of staying clean
It was a cold November morning in the valley of Cowan, when I fired my first shot. It was a smooth and clean feeling after I pulled the trigger. I than saw the deer hunker as the slug hit its side, and it began to run away from us. Dad, knowing I had made a good shot, still decided to jump out of the blind window to end the animals suffering. Unfortunately, when his foot caught, it was all over from then. Once, I was inside the blind and the next I was in the cold crisp air. I then saw Dad on the ground cursing himself for jumping through the window.