Category: Memories

My wife just asked me to put up a ceiling fan. I didn’t know that was part of marriage! This was my first thought on Sunday, August 8, 2010, as I stood in my bedroom with a bunch of screws, nuts, bolts, and fan blades.

My head swirled with thoughts of how to get out of this. Certain beliefs emerged from the core of my mind. I am a white-collar worker. I don’t know how to do mechanical stuff. Being a handy type guy isn’t my forte. I have more patience with people and my clients than I do with things like ceiling fans. However, these beliefs were contradicted by thoughts such as I want to please my wife. I did spend the afternoon on the beach, so maybe now I should earn my keep. I do like a challenge. Along with these thoughts came memories of the few other times in my life when I attempted to assemble things.

There was that cold night in a coworker’s apartment, Monday, January 13, 2003. My friend and I were struggling to carry a large box containing a new treadmill into another friend’s apartment. We clumsily carried the heavy box up the narrow apartment stairway with repeated pleas between the two of us to slow down, speed up, “Clockwise is that way!” Any spectators might have guessed that we were staging a comedy show or shooting a video for the television series, Funniest Home Videos. As we approached the first landing, my friend asked while panting, “Do you want to take a break?” Wanting to appear strong and as if I had some amount of stamina, I said, “No, let’s keep going.” My friend, still panting, replied, “Well, I need a break.” I panted, sighed, and agreed. Finally, we got the treadmill up the stairs and into the apartment door. We still had all ten fingers and toes and had not dropped the box.

As we finally got the box into the apartment, I smelled spaghetti and meatballs. Our friend had made us a nice dinner as a reward for helping her with the treadmill. She asked if we would like to eat the spaghetti first or assemble the treadmill first. Wisely, I voted for assembly first as we would probably not be very good at assembling after consuming pounds of spaghetti, tons of meatballs, and red wine to boot. She brought us her tools and we proceeded to put the two sides together with ease. To my chagrin, my friend could not wait any longer to eat so we took a break. Much as I feared, he had three servings of spaghetti and drank three glasses of wine. I had half a glass and one serving. When we returned to work, he groaned and fell asleep. Consequently, I finished the assembly. We turned on the machine and she tried it out. Mission accomplished!

As I returned to the present moment in my bedroom with a bunch of tools and fan parts, I sighed with the realization that that particular memory was not helping me to prove my case but rather showed that I was indeed capable of putting together the ceiling fan. My creative and determined mind fetched another memory. Sunday, March 5, 2006, a friend called and said she just got a new swing set and she was hoping that I could come over and help her put it together. It was one of those adult models. If Nat King Cole were still alive, he might do a song called “Swing Set Built for Two” as an addendum to “Bicycle Built for Two.” When we emptied the contents of the swing set box, I was overwhelmed by the plethora of nuts, bolts, and screws of all shapes and sizes. However, we then did what few people dare to do. We read the directions. With the assistance of the directions and a power drill, the work became routine. Two hours later, her backyard shone with a beautiful swing set.

So now I had no choice but to assemble and install the ceiling fan. My memories had proven that I can assemble things. My mouth said, “No problem, just leave me alone in here and I will have it fastened to the ceiling and working in no time.” My brain, however, was thinking that I needed my wife out of the room, so she wouldn’t learn how many four-letter words are in my vocabulary if I screwed this up. At first, I dropped a couple of bolts and it was a pain getting down from the stepladder, crawling under the bed to retrieve them, and climbing back up the ladder. After that, it was all uphill and an hour later the room was decorated with a beautiful ceiling fan that provided a cool gentle wind deceptively similar to a tropical breeze.

Some people reading this book might remember a routine skit from Saturday Night Live in which the late Gilda Radnor would tell a bizarre story and conclude with the phrase, “Well it just goes to show,” after which she would state some silly and off the wall conclusion. I will say that my ceiling fan experience was accidental proof that it just goes to show that you can accomplish new things if you believe you can. Sometimes you just need to search your memories, examine the beliefs that you have developed from those memories, and perhaps revise those beliefs if necessary. This chapter will teach you how to do just that!

Which comes first, the memory or the belief? The answer is both. Your brain will form and adopt beliefs based on your past memories. However, your beliefs will affect which memories you recall and which fade. What exactly is a belief? First, let’s explore what a belief is not. A belief is not a fact. We often treat beliefs as if they were facts.

For example, suppose you believe that all people who ride motorcycles are uneducated and unemployed street gang members. You meet someone at a party who has arrived on their motorcycle and they tell you about the doctoral program they are in and how they teach at a local college. Furthermore, they and their fellow weekend warriors raised more than ten thousand dollars to fund their church’s mission program to Haiti. Suddenly, you need to change your belief about bikers.

No, beliefs are not facts. They are conclusions you have made about yourself, people, society, religion, and all other aspects of life. As seen from the previous example, when you get new information, you are forced to change your beliefs. How do we make conclusions and form beliefs? Even from infancy, we are all detectives trying to make sense of life from what we experience. If we were fed when we were hungry, if our diapers were changed when the pipes leaked, and if we were held and played with while growing up, we adopt the belief that the world is a safe place and people are good to us. However, if we do not get an immediate response when we cry to be fed, held, or changed, we adopt the belief that the world is scary and apathetic.

In grade school, we formed beliefs about ourselves. If we are good in school, we form a belief that we are smart. If we are good at sports, we form a belief that we are athletic. An athletic boy or a pretty girl will form the beliefs that they are popular and people like them. Unfortunately, there are many kids who do not fall into any of these categories and therefore form the belief that they are just average kids and will be average ordinary adults.

Other beliefs are formed by the way adults treat us. If adults make false promises, we form a belief that we can’t trust people. If we were physically abused, we may form a belief that aggression is an effective way to get what we want. Someone in this situation will also more than likely form a belief that they are bad and vulnerable. When a child is physically or emotionally abused, their impulse can be to want to hurt and even physically destroy the abuser depending on how badly the abuser has hurt them. However, they know that they can’t do that, or they will not survive, particularly if the abuser is a parent. If they were to follow through with these impulses, the child would no longer have anyone to feed

them or to provide them with a roof over their head. Their alternative course of action then is to turn their anger in on themselves and form the belief that they are just no good. They may also believe that they deserved the abuse in some way, although they can’t identify what they did.

If you have memories of not finishing things that you have started, you might have a history of self-sabotaging. It may be that you formed negative beliefs about yourself through your earliest memories. Conversely, if you have achieved your goals, have a life that you are satisfied with, and are happy most of the time, then you have formed positive beliefs about yourself and your world. You may recall from the last chapter that everyone has memories that elicit a feeling of joy when recalled. Everyone also has other memories that cause them to feel angry, sad, or anxious. It might seem logical to say that because we all have memories that carry the same emotional strings, we should all be the same in our emotional outlook on life. If logic prevailed, however, then why is it that some people are happy, successful, and confident, others are satisfied with some aspects of their lives, and still others are unhappy, miserable, sick, and fail at everything they undertake?

The answer is that while memories might trigger the same emotions from person to person, the beliefs formed from those memories and emotions will be different from person to person. Furthermore, beliefs formed years prior will determine which memories a person recalls now. For example, if you believe that you are smart, you could easily recall making the Dean’s List in college and going on to finish doctoral work. You might even remember the details of the classes you took. However, there was also the day that you were sick in a junior year and failed the final. It was one of your worst collegiate performances. You will probably not easily recall that memory because it is contradictory to your belief that you are smart.

Similarly, suppose you believe that you are athletic but not smart. Although you don’t believe that you are smart, there was one time that you earned an A on a midterm and you were relieved because now your overall grade was high enough to allow you to keep playing football. Years later, you may remember that you played ball but forget that you ever got an “A” on a midterm.

What about the personal example I provided at the beginning of this chapter? I believed that I could not put together a ceiling fan, but then I recalled memories of successfully assembling a treadmill and a swing set. In that situation, I started with beliefs that I was not a handy However, there were other beliefs that made me determined to assemble that fan. These beliefs included:

• I am a good husband, and putting this fan together is part of being a good husband.
• I always find a way to accomplish what I need to do. I like being successful.
• My wife will be happy when I am finished with this task.
• I will be doing more things around the house, so I might as well get used to handyman type work.
• With these beliefs pervading my brain, I was able to recall memories of similar situations, and then use those beliefs to successfully assemble the fan.

Changing your beliefs is not as hard as it may seem. In the following exercises, you will learn how to change your beliefs, and how to doctor your painful memories.

In the book The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien, the author discusses the stories of soldiers who participated in the Vietnam War and experienced a great amount of trauma and guilt brought by their experiences. Tim O’Brien uses imagery to help the reader put themselves in the perspectives of the soldiers through demonstrating how the deaths of so many people have a huge impact on those affected and make the men start to lose their sense of humanity.

In the chapter Spin, Tim looks back on the various encounters that he experienced during the war. O’Brien uses this chapter to communicate what appears to be a never ending series of traumatic events and the emotional toll that these have on the soldiers. This shows when he says “the bad stuff never stops, it lives in its own dimension replaying itself over and over” (32). In this moment, the story puts into perspective the emotional consequences of being involved in the war. The memories of the war cannot stop “replaying” for O’Brien, as he feels trapped in a loop, forcing him to constantly think about death and loss he has experienced. This makes it nearly impossible for him to gain a peace of mind that is untouched by the trauma of war. By describing how the bad aspects of war “live” in their own “dimension,” O’Brien is personifying the soldiers’ memories and giving them a life of their own in order to show how powerful they really are. Their existence in another dimension expresses the idea that they are out of the control of the soldiers, so they cannot be done away with or forgotten, they overpower the minds of the soldiers and overwhelm them with negativity as they replay in their minds over and over. O’Brien also mentions his fears brought by the war and explains the pain that the emotional toll brings upon the soldiers. Tim continues his use of imagery in “The Ghost Soldiers,” as he describes, “Together we understood what terror was: you’re not human anymore…You slip out of your own skin, like molting, shedding your own history and your own future.” (200). Tim begins by explaining how “together” him and the soldiers “understood” the horrible aspects of war, which helps establish a bond between the soldiers since they have a mutual understanding of emotions and fears that many others do not. However, this connection between Tim and the other men does not appear as enough to help him overcome the terrors of war because he does not see himself as “human anymore,” let alone part of the man he once was. By using hyperbole within his imagery and describing that he feels like the future is “molting” away, this connotes with the effects of a molten lava destroying everything that comes accross it during an eruption, with the war acting as a natural disaster and his emotions that provide him with a sense of humanity being destroyed. This is further seen when the author describes himself as slipping out of his skin, because the effects of such a disastrous war are ruining him from the inside out through the psychological happening in his brain as a result of being involved in the front line of the war. Through using such vivid imagery, O’Brien makes it clear how the terror of war overpowers those involved and prevents them from feeling a sense of normalcy as humans.

Tim O’Brien continues to use imagery to show how the emotions and the feelings they bring out never fade. Tim O’Brien uses imagery in chapter Night Life when Rat Kiley hits an emotional breaking point in front of Mitchell Sanders and explains, “These pictures in my head they won’t quit. I’ll see a guy’s liver. The actual liver” (211). By first describing how the mental images in Rat Kiley’s mind “won’t quit,” O’Brien is trying to tell the reader that traumatic experiences like seeing a body part that belonged to a once living person do not disappear even after many of the violent situations that the soldiers are forced to experience. Because it was a body part separated from a soldier, it becomes clear that the individual “liver” that Rat Kiley is talking about represents the idea of death because he becomes once agained stunned at the constant images of things or people that are not alive and functioning. Rat Kiley’s fixation on this image of death, even if it seems less signifigant than other violent experiences that he has witnessed, demonstrates how powerful traumatic memories are because they are essentially ingrained in the brain. As a result, Rat Kiley’s feelings of trauma show how the physical experiences that one has in war are far less powerful than the emotions and memories that follow them. Tim O’Brien also uses imagery in Notes when Norman Bowker is talking about reaching an emotional downfall years after the war and how he continued to lose himself. He says, “There’s no place to go. Not just in this lousy little town. In general my life, I mean it’s almost like I got killed over in Nam[…]Hard to describe..feels like i’m in deep shit,” (150). Describing how he almost got killed although he is physically alive shows how and his sense of being a functional human is lost because of how traumatized he is and how much loss he has experienced. By also explaining that he has no place to go and feels as though he is in “deep shit,” Bowker seems to be accepting his defeat to no longer being able to handle his emotions or putting the past behind him. As a result, his emotions are so distorted by the war that he no longer has a new way of expressing them in a way that helps him cope or finding a purpose that allows him to feel a peace of mind and sense of humanity. O’Brien demonstrates how individuals whose minds are torn apart by war cannot simply forget the traumatic experiences they were forced to endure, as these experiences create everlasting emotions that often affect them negatively.

After analyzing The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien, the imagery used by the author demonstrates how not only does war rob those who participate in it of a feeling of peace and normalcy, but these emotions that are brought by traumatic physical events are much more powerful. By spreading this message, the author is speaking for the many soldiers who are still affected and face emotional turmoil as a result of witnessing or taking part in action on the front line of war.

It was a warm summer night, filled with the promise of adventure and excitement. I remember the way the stars twinkled in the sky, mirroring the flutter of nervous excitement in my heart. That night marked a significant moment in my life, a milestone that would forever change my perception of myself and the world around me.

The Setting

I was 18, on the brink of adulthood, and eager to experience the world beyond the confines of my teenage years. The setting was a friend’s house party, a gathering that felt like the epitome of freedom. The music was lively, laughter filled the air, and the scent of anticipation mingled with the aroma of barbecue on the grill. It was the kind of evening that could easily become a cherished memory.

Unexpected Connections

As the night progressed, I found myself engaged in conversations with various people, each interaction adding to the excitement of the atmosphere. Amidst the crowd, I noticed someone I hadn’t met before—a stranger who seemed to exude confidence and charisma. Our eyes met across the room, and in that moment, an unspoken connection was established.

An Unplanned Journey

As the night wore on, conversations flowed seamlessly, and the connection with the stranger deepened. We shared stories, laughter, and the kind of easy camaraderie that can only emerge in the late hours of the night. I was surprised by how comfortable I felt in this person’s presence, as if we had known each other for much longer than a few hours.

The Transition

As the night grew darker, the party began to wind down. The music softened, and conversations became more intimate. It was during this transition that the stranger and I found ourselves alone in a quieter corner of the backyard. The energy between us was palpable, a mixture of curiosity, attraction, and the thrill of the unknown.

The Moment

In that moment, as our eyes locked, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us. It was as if time had slowed down, allowing us to savor the tension that hung in the air. And then, with a mixture of excitement and trepidation, our lips met in a passionate kiss—a gesture that held the promise of uncharted territory.

The Journey Unfolds

From that kiss, the night took on a life of its own. Our connection deepened, and conversations shifted to more personal topics. We shared our dreams, fears, and the vulnerabilities that we had kept hidden from the world. It was a level of intimacy that I had never experienced before, and it was both exhilarating and terrifying.

A Moment of Choice

As the night drew to a close, a decision lay before me—a choice that held the potential to change the course of my life. In the quiet darkness, with the weight of anticipation hanging in the air, I made the choice to let go of my inhibitions and embrace the unknown. It was a decision fueled by curiosity, desire, and the understanding that this was a moment I would remember forever.

Embracing Change

As the dawn broke and the stars faded into the morning light, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. In the aftermath of that night, I realized that I had crossed a threshold into adulthood. It wasn’t just about the physical act; it was about the emotional journey, the vulnerability, and the realization that life is full of moments that shape our identity.

Reflection

Looking back, that night stands as a vivid memory—a testament to the power of human connection and the choices that define our path. It was a night of exploration, of discovering new dimensions of myself, and of embracing the uncertainty that accompanies growth. It was a night that taught me that sometimes, the most profound experiences are the ones that are unplanned, unexpected, and brimming with the potential for transformation.

Conclusion

Losing my virginity was not just a physical act; it was an emotional journey that marked my transition into adulthood. That warm summer night, filled with stars and the promise of adventure, will forever be etched in my memory. It was a night of discovery, connection, and the beginning of a new chapter in my life. As I continue to navigate the complexities of adulthood, I carry the lessons learned from that night—a reminder that life is a series of moments that define who we are and who we are becoming.

Memoirs are the tapestries of our lives, interwoven with threads of experience, emotion, and reflection. As a literary genre, memoirs have the power to transcend time and space, inviting readers into the intimate corners of a writer’s existence. The Paris Review, a revered literary magazine, has been a vital platform for these personal narratives, showcasing the artistry of memoirists who craft their stories with a blend of vulnerability and craftsmanship. This essay delves into the world of memoir writing through the lens of The Paris Review, exploring how the magazine has enriched the genre while championing diverse voices and narratives.

The Intimacy of Personal Stories

Memoirs are more than mere autobiographical accounts; they are profound reflections on the human experience. The Paris Review recognizes the value of personal stories as a means of fostering connection and empathy among readers. The magazine’s commitment to publishing memoirs underscores the belief that sharing the intimate details of one’s life can bridge the gap between writer and reader, allowing individuals to find solace, inspiration, and understanding in the narratives of others.

Narrative Craftsmanship

In the world of memoir writing, storytelling is an art form, and The Paris Review serves as a canvas for skilled writers to paint their experiences with eloquence and precision. The magazine’s discerning editorial process ensures that memoirs are not merely accounts of events but finely crafted narratives that engage readers from the first sentence to the last. Through vivid descriptions, evocative metaphors, and insightful reflections, memoirists capture the essence of their lives, immersing readers in their worlds.

Exploring the Complexity of Identity

Memoirs showcased in The Paris Review often delve into the complexities of identity, encompassing themes of culture, heritage, and personal transformation. By sharing their journeys of self-discovery and self-definition, writers contribute to the ongoing dialogue about identity in a globalized world. The magazine’s commitment to diversity ensures that a multitude of voices are heard, enriching the literary landscape with stories that challenge conventional norms and amplify marginalized perspectives.

The Intersection of Memory and Truth

Memoirs straddle the fine line between memory and truth, presenting the past through the lens of personal recollections. The Paris Review recognizes the inherent subjectivity of memory and embraces the gray areas where recollections may blur or evolve over time. This willingness to explore the complex interplay between memory and truth gives memoirists the freedom to share their stories authentically, without the pressure of adhering to rigid factual constraints.

An Invitation to Reflect

Memoirs published in The Paris Review serve as mirrors that allow readers to reflect on their own lives and experiences. As readers engage with the personal narratives of others, they may find themselves reevaluating their own memories, beliefs, and emotions. The magazine’s curated selection of memoirs encourages readers to engage in self-reflection and introspection, fostering a deeper understanding of themselves and the world around them.

Conclusion

The Paris Review’s dedication to showcasing memoirs underscores the magazine’s commitment to the art of storytelling and the celebration of diverse human experiences. Memoirs featured in its pages offer readers a glimpse into the intricate mosaic of life, encouraging empathy, introspection, and connection. By elevating the voices of memoirists, The Paris Review provides a space for personal stories to flourish, reminding us that the power of storytelling lies in its ability to illuminate the shared threads of our humanity.

People around me. Reading social and community context.

I was born in Newcastle, in the small town of North Shields. Both of my parents are white British, they were both quite well-off regarding income as they had high-paying careers and we lived in a bought house with my two brothers Ross now 27, and Jordan, 21. We lived in an estate when I was young just off the area of Meadowell, this area was a well-known place for crime and local authority housing. Although our street was tranquil, we still had ‘troublemakers’ around us, like all areas. I would describe my upbringing as the best I feel I could have had, because of the area I grew up in a lot of my friends had very different lifestyles than myself, but this never phased me, at the end of the day they were still my friends. In Rick Bowler’s chapter from my reading resources, I related to when he discussed that unequal social conditions bread fear, distrust, anger, and poverty (Bowler, 2013).

As I said, my friends that I grew up with had a totally different upbringing from mine, they were treated differently, and their families never had the same treatment as my family did. A couple of my friends grew to be troublemakers and angry, I suppose this was them crying for attention and to be noticed by not only their parents but everybody else around them. If they did bad things, they would look brave. I believe this relates to what Bowler said about unequal social conditions breading aspects of a person because if they got the attention, they craved they would not need to act out of character.

Bowler states that youth work has shifted from a universal approach to more targeted to those who need it most, I think there are pros and cons to this (Bowler, 2013). I understand the importance of helping those in need, but this could cause issues for those who do not get attention just because they had a good life. When I was in my adolescent stages of life, I went to a youth club around my area and I always noticed that other children would get more ‘attention’ than I would receive and if there were any trips they would always be considered first, this sometimes upset me but now when I look back on it, I know the reasons why and know that there is always a reason behind why people do things.

Different does not mean different. Socialisation and Radicalisation.

I do not remember enormous amounts from primary school, I know I fitted in quite well, I was never really bullied or in trouble. I had a lot of friends and a good experience in my years. Starting high school, this was slightly trickier as I did not know anybody because I went to a catholic school and most of my friend’s families did not investigate the same school choices as my mother. I quickly adapted to high school life and became very good friends with two girls, one called Ami lived very close to my house so we would go to each other’s after school and sometimes would visit our other friend Katrina.

In Gundara’s chapter ‘An Intercultural Apprenticeship’, he talks about how education is seen as the only avenue that would lead out of the trap of the complex middle position of the Asian minority, my friend Katrina was from the Philippines and I understood what Gundara was saying in regards to this as Katrina’s parents where very pushy towards focusing on school and becoming a nurse, I never understood why they were so pushy but over time this became apparent that they needed the education to feel accepted (Gundara, 2000). I had never really had a friend from a different cultural background, this did not faze me at all. I would enjoy having tea at Katrina’s, they ate quite a lot of rice so I decided I would have rice and tomato sauce one day, and this quickly became my favorite meal! It interested me a lot to know the different languages they spoke and, in some ways, a different outlook on life.

One night I will never forget. Critical Moments.

When I was around 5 years old my parents split up, I know this affected me and my older brother a considerable amount, my brother went off the rails at school and started to misbehave. My little brother was only 6 months old, so he never really understood. After the separation, my father neglected us for a few years and acted up a bit. A few years on me and my brothers started to have more contact with our father and by this point, both parents had met somebody new, we accepted this and accepted that we had an extended family structure. This shows I had to adapt to my surroundings, but my mother helped me with this. The significance of the social in all forms of interaction, producing active and generative forms of character work, something as simple as speaking to others around you becomes the justification that you will be okay (Wood, Westwood, and Thompson, 2015).

In 2010, the one night I will never forget as it changed my life completely, but not for the right reasons. I remember like It was yesterday, I was at Wallsend Mero station on my own on my way home after having a night with a couple of friends. A drunk man approached me and asked me for money, I politely told him I did not have any as I had spent up on a pizza that night! The man quickly became aggressive and at this point, I found myself cornered with nowhere to run with a knife pointed at me. I cried my eyes out absolutely petrified, nobody was around to help me. I do not know how I did it, but I managed to literally crawl past the man’s legs, get on my feet and run as fast as could away from him. I cannot help but think somebody else may not have been as lucky as me that night and that petrifies me. Ever since that night, I would not leave the house, I did not want to see my friends or go anywhere public. This caused me a huge amount of anxiety, I was treated for anxiety and PTSD from the age of 15 and remain on my anxiety medication now, this incident is something that has had a profound impact on my life and unfortunately has restricted me from doing a lot of things in my youth. I have never been on any sort of public transport since that day without somebody else with me. While reading the chapter Locating the Self by Jason Wood, I came across a quote that I found quite relevant to this instance, it reads “the significance of our life experiences and how they help shape who we are” (Wood, Westwood, and Thompson, 2015).

This ordeal has changed my life enormously, unfortunately in bad ways more than good but one thing I learned was that people can use their powers to undermine yours and that is the way they choose to live their lives and there is absolutely nothing you can do about that other than be yourself. Wood talks about stereotyping in which women face being the lesser human to a man, he states the main issue as a practitioner is that our expectations of another person’s personality can affect the way we treat somebody, and I can relate to this statement as I feel this man felt he was superior to myself and that he could overpower and intimidate me. It is so important that as a youth worker, you do not have this way of thinking, because everybody is equal and should be treated that way (Wood, Westwood, and Thompson, 2015).

I rebelled against my mother. Adolescence, identity, and change.

Growing up I rebelled against my mother quite a bit and blamed her for everything that had gone wrong in my life, I know now that is far from the truth. My mother is my absolute rock, she is my best friend, I could not think of anybody better to raise me and I do not know where I would be without her. Due to my rebellion against my mother, I had a strong relationship with my nana, she was like my mother growing up. Sadly, she died in 2012, this really broke me, and I felt like everything I had felt before this was nothing. I went downhill after my nana’s passing; I was diagnosed with depression not long after this and was referred to a counselor at my GP to help me come to terms with her death and accept it as a blessing she was ever my rock and I now cherish that. I started to misbehave at college and could not finish my studies to become a Teacher.

In the chapter Who Am I Going to Be? By Chris Beckett, he talks about how crime and self-destruction happen within adolescence and this is exactly where I was in my life, although he also talks about parenting styles being an impact on the adolescent transition I always had an amazing upbringing but looking back on my situation now I believe my parents splitting and having a broken home could have been an impact on my life but because I was so little when it happened, It slowly crept up on me as well as the trauma I endured at such a young age as previously spoken about (Beckett and Taylor, 2010). Beckett also talks about self-doubt during my transition to adulthood (Beckett and Taylor, 2010), I had an incredible amount of self-doubt and lack of confidence growing up and still do now but if I could speak to my younger self now as a youth worker helping people in the same situation, I would tell her to never give up, nobody is perfect because in the end it is you that controls how you see yourself and how your life is being lived, and the only person that can change that is you.

No Fear

“Fear is only temporary. Regret lasts forever.”

Acrophobia is an extreme or irrational fear of heights. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always had this fear of heights. From riding in an elevator to ascending a ladder, if I could feel myself several feet from the ground I’d start to panic. My hands would begin to tremble uncontrollably, my heart would begin to race, and I’d get this overwhelming feeling of anxiety. At the time my parents would try comforting me by telling me it was just a stage; that I’d grow out of it, but as the years progressed I discovered the complete opposite.

At the age of 7, I took my first trip to Galveston, Texas to experience the Amusement Park. After a painful 2 hours of sitting in the car listening to “90s Hits.” we finally arrived and headed to our destination, Pleasure Pier. If you know anything about the Pleasure Pier you know that it is an elevated platform leading out from the shore into a body of water. Imagine being a 7-year-old child who already has a fear of heights and being surrounded by a huge body of water, that was terrifying. As soon as I stepped foot on the pier I felt nauseous. All I remembered from that trip was my hands trembling and my eyes filled with tears while the rest of my family were laughing and enjoying their time together.

As a child, I would always visit my grandparents. One day my granddad came to the conclusion that I always wanted a treehouse. So for the past couple of months, my grandfather showed his determination to build me one. After months of hard work and dedication, my grandfather completed the task and invited me over to admire his work. As soon as I arrived I immediately saw the treehouse. It looked as if it was as high as the sky. Because my grandfather spent so much time building this for me, there was no other option but to go inside. My grandfather, my sister, and I all began to climb up the ladder leading into the treehouse with my grandfather climbing up first, followed by my sister, with me following after them. As soon as my foot touched the first few steps of the ladder, I got this huge burst of anxiety. I immediately ran down into the house with tears filling my eyes. Nothing compared to the shame and humiliation I felt that day. Since that day I started to believe that this fear would always define me.

At the age of 12, my family and I decided to take a trip to California. When I first got news of the trip anxiety began to take over, my hands began to tremble from the thought of this trip being the worst experience I’d ever have to go through. Instead of being a couple of feet from the ground, we’d be at an altitude of about 30,000 feet! The day of the flight, walking into the airplane, finding my seat, and waiting to take off I became anxious. As soon as I felt the airplane take off, fear filled my body. When I looked out the window to see how high up we were, I was in awe. Watching the clouds as they whiz through the window. Catching a glimpse of the different buildings and skyscrapers in my beautiful city made me forget where I actually was, that I was several feet from the ground that I had a fear of heights. Throughout this flight, I realized that my anxiety was replaced with overwhelming joy and excitement because I was experiencing something new. Ever since that flight whenever I’d feel anxious or fearful I’d think of my time on the airplane to remind me that fear is only temporary.

Months later I revisited the treehouse that my grandfather built for me years ago, for the first time. Climbing up the ladder, no longer did fear and anxiety cross my mind but instead joy filled my body. When I finally reached the top tears of joy made my vision slightly blurred. As a child, even though I never actually wanted a treehouse I always wanted the experience. With my fear I never could have this experience or any other experiences, so when I actually climbed up the ladder several emotions filled my body at once. Looking at the treehouse I saw many things that I loved as a child. My grandfather included all my favorite toys and books, painted the inside pink, and engraved my name onto the roof. There were no dust bunnies of any kind on any of the books and toys which made me come to the conclusion that my grandfather knew that one day or in this case several years I’d build up the courage to climb up the tree.

At 13, my family and I revisited The Galveston Pleasure Pier. To my surprise, the entry into the Amusement park was completely different from the first time I visited. The first thing I did when I walked into the pier was look down and admire the beauty of the beach nearby. I closed my eyes and listened to the distinctive sound of the ocean hitting the sand. I listened to the waves crashing perfectly against one another, this sound was as peaceful as the wind whispering through the trees. I followed my family to the first ride and in that moment, there was no fear.

How could a person ever uncover a revitalizing hidden pocket of the universe on this mundane earth? I have always sensed that life strikes people in distinct approaches as at any time, the balance of our lives, the conventional image of ourselves and the world around us, could be disrupted suddenly by something revived, forcing us into a fascinating reevaluation, but I always contemplated: when will my time come? Well, eventually my moment of intense realization did hit me; however, it came in a way that my brain would have never comprehended. During a genuinely draining situation related to household dilemmas, throughout a sorrowful long, and dull duration of my life, at one of the most crippling instants, an epiphany came upon me, coursing through my blood as it lit a bolt in my mind that shifted my life forever that resulted in the creation of The Self Empowerment Event.

The creation, process, and implementation of the stirring Self Empowerment Event led me to be the person that I am today, the ardent dreamer. It astonishes my human brain to ponder that a rough patch in my life has had a definitive effect not only on me but also on the people around me. However, I never took it for granted; the fact that I could affect people’s feelings or that I had this much authority. Indeed, countless sleepless nights of my Junior year were spent being fully engrossed in making sure that every aspect of the event from sponsors to the actual empowerment effectiveness was perfect.

One of the truly unforgettable instances that I shall never forget is when it was moments before the doors were about to open for the attendees to start entering, and my two co-leaders and I were telling everyone that we were living and that everyone should be in place, at that specific moment my heart was about to stop as the feelings of excitement and nervousness where going to cut my heart in half. But then, I remembered, this is what I have been working on for the past ten months and that it is my time to show my true self to all of the school and prove my worthiness. In this event, I acquired the opportunity of being a leader on a scale like no other extent for a 16-year-old; therefore, I was terrified of what the outcome would be; nevertheless, in the end, fortunately, all that was witnessed in the event was smiling faces and happy individuals, which was enough for me to feel like I’ve done not that bad of a job after 10 months of extremely hard work.

Whilst maintaining an upper hand on making sure that the event ran smoothly with its million aspects and elements that had to be taken care of, I found myself regularly falling into the deep observation of the whole scene; I even felt like an investigative psychologist for a second there. I felt like I was floating over my body watching every interaction and inspecting it and getting lost in thought of the bigger picture as I subconsciously tried to connect all the points together. It was impossible for me to take my eyes off the approaches that each girl exhibited as she was responding to the booth games, which were enterprises that derived a girl’s feelings in regard to a specific topic. I was exceptionally astounded by each girl‘s reaction as one was shy and finding it arduous to describe her feelings, and another one was gushing out her feelings like it was what she did every day.

As I started apprehending values like transparency, management, and communication on a different level, I longed for inspiring and influencing individuals into establishing a sense of solidarity with themselves as I came to understand that with this, a person can reach a perception of satisfaction in the world. I finally acquired a solid view of what fundamentally is having an authentic character in this universe; it is not a mere person who goes through life passing out on opportunities, but an individual who is a pure fervent visionary fighting for creating and executing their own opportunities. Fundamentally, that is the “simple” course that I endured to reverse the most toxic situation in my life to the most positivity generator case ever.

When I look back on special moments in my life, chief among them going on holiday, having a birthday party, and starting school, these all fade compared to the day I saw my team triumph over their greatest rivals. The reason why I have chosen this is that it is a very special moment for me as it was the first time I went to an old firm game at Ibrox and it was the first time Celtic had won by 4 goals and it was the highest that Celtic had won at Ibrox in our club’s history.

It was the morning of the old firm and I had been buzzing for this match since the day I got the tickets. I was so excited that the game was only hours away. I got ready to go to the place where I get picked up for away matches. The bus arrived around 11 o’clock and what an atmosphere there was. The whole bus was bouncing, everyone was so excited for the match. Yet my emotions were highly mixed, while I was full of excitement, at the same time I was very nervous as it was our rivals, known as the old firm clash, it was the biggest rivalry in the world. We were fast approaching the stadium and I actually started to feel sick. Getting off the bus and I just see a flood of blue all Rangers fans, it felt like I was in a different country, I wanted to show the pride I had for my own people, the atmosphere was so good, each set of fans belting their own songs, it was time to go into the stadium. The queues for the turnstiles were huge, I was just dying to get in and the hair on my arms lifted, I had goosebumps before I knew it was time for kick-off.

The game had started and it had been a flying start for Celtic, we had taken the lead in the 9th minute, it was the best feeling ever that I have probably ever felt so far as a Celtic fan. The whole Celtic end was shaking, something I have never experienced. I have been to a lot of big Celtic games but nothing beats this, everyone jumping up and down including me, it was just the best atmosphere I have heard so far in my lifetime, it was a very special moment for me.

At halftime, Celtic was 2-0 up. I guess that was £50 well spent I was thinking and then as if that wasn’t pleasant enough Celtic had gone 3-0 up. We were in dreamland, I turned to my little brother and my mum and I grabbed them as tightly as I could. Now at this point, I knew Celtic weren’t going to lose and the game was won by this point, so it was just about partying and enjoying the rest of the match, all the worry and sickness were replaced with supreme confidence. This was the happiest moment of my life indeed by the time the final whistle blew; Celtic had won 5-1 and made history and I was able to experience it with the people that I always go to the matches with and love.

As I was heading home none of my feelings had changed, I was still as excited and happy the way I was when Celtic took the lead. The whole bus was bouncing, everyone singing and dancing all the way home. It is one game that I will never forget in my whole life, no matter what happens. Considering how much it means to me, as I was returning home I remembered suddenly we had another old firm coming up in a few weeks. It was a few weeks away, and I couldn’t have been any happier. My mum calls on me to come to see her and she tells me that we have another ticket sorted for the next match. The next match was at Hampden, a place where Celtic hadn’t been beaten in a while, and I was full of confidence that we would win. And I was correct, Celtic won the match. I was over the moon, it was 11 p.m. and it just sunk into me that we had won 5-1 over our greatest rivals at their own stadium and that I have witnessed Celtic make history with my own eyes that nobody will see for a good few years, even more, and even better, it was also part of the season where Celtic when the whole domestic season unbeaten and had a clean sweep of all three trophies available.

The best thing about being a football is the passion and excitement that come with it. I just love following Celtic home and away with my mum and my little brother. The reason me loving is that it has been a tradition running through the family for many years and it has carried on during my lifetime.

Over the sky of Munnar sun appears to add an extra last minute of daylight. The hues of the sky are changing from orangish-red to tangerine. The cotton candy clouds look blushing with the warm touch of the setting sun. Flocks of birds flew over the small hillock nearby chirping merrily homewards. Pleasant breeze rolling through the valley, bringing with it the chills from the mountains.

In addition to the picturesque setting, the melodious song of the Jacobin cuckoo swept through the valley. A slithering dark concrete road makes its way through the pine wood trees dotting the landscape. The lush green tea plantations resemble the hanging gardens of ancient Babylon. The layers of green foliage of tea plants lay on the ridges of the valley, challenging gravity as they grow horizontally on a vertical drop of the mountains. The small villages gleamed with lights as the streets were illuminated with lamps.

Overlooking the forest stands a check post about five meters high built to keep a lookout for invading elephants trying to destroy the crops. The headlights of the distant running automobiles on the faraway road look like red fireflies flying in the void. The smoke from the several chimneys looks like many serpents climbing up the sky.

Star-punching mountains soar up like an eagle high in the sky. A mighty river flowing through the valley looks for instance like still moving color; resembling a living expanse of a gargantuan mirror reflecting the valleys and mountains. Meandering streams meet up in the mouth of the river and near the still shore flocking birds like geese and ducks are slowly filling up. Overlooking the face of the valley was a glistering waterfall marking its presence count by the soothing burble across the whole valley, making the surroundings more captivating.

A heard of Nilgiri Thar (local mountain goat) were settling down near a steep ended cliff and the goats were seen calmly sitting and watching the sunset as of they were enjoying the beauty of it. Large flocks of birds too were returning to their nests after a long and tedious day of flying; as they flew past the setting sun, it appears as if they were minute black specks of sand in an ocean of magenta, with their wings flapping in synchrony with each other, they appeared to have been migrating.

The weariness of the day was to get over with the dry tinder in the campsite. The flames rise boldly against the magenta sky, before the tinder everything glowed, orange and gold. Every eye reflects the flickering fire. The woody aroma rose from the bottom to fill up the surrounding air. It was a large campfire with sparks flying everywhere. From miles downwind villagers could smell this brewing bonfire. Flames are like a television on a hill station as they move talk and entertain the campers. Campers were roasting treats like local freshwater fish and poultry, which were covered in local flavors of aromatic spices like cardamom and black pepper, as they roasted on the fire. The campers were enjoying the tender and succulent meats as they glanced at the last rays of the dying sun. The scent of the roasted chicken filled the entire space with its aroma reaching far and wide. The slightly charred meat also had an orangish tinge, like the sky it was being cooked under. The smoldering fire licked the bottom of the campfire entirely; as new firewood was placed. The ash was floating through the air. The air was full of new scents like the roasting meat and the ash from the burnt wood. The smell of the burning fire it is was pure, relaxing, and joyous. Additionally, the strumming of the guitar and the humming of the campers made the evening even more special. The music was completely entrancing as the sweet melody went perfectly with the occasion, the melody was sweet like tender fish from the lake.

A warm radiance touched me gently like a lover’s hand, the radiance of the setting sun was warm and powerful, the mauve of the dusky sky intensified as the flames of the sun were completely submerged in the horizon, and threads of light lingered in the sky mingling with the translucent clouds as the cuckoo made its way home so did the sun. Later, the bonfire I indulged in the enjoyable is a recollection of the past events of gazing at the marvels of this hill station during my trip.

It used to be about the event of my brother’s marriage when I accompanied by my cousins and family contributors stepped into a fantastic buying mall in Islamabad, the Centaro us. I got goosebumps when I saw the large building and the crowd of people. there had been a massive mass of humans acquired there from extraordinary regions of Pakistan. I saw there the busy shopkeepers who were dealing with more than three clients at a time. when I went into a fabric shop, I was once taken aback by the adroitness of the shopkeeper that he was dealing with three greater customers along with me.  Furthermore, there were 4 more personnel who were dealing with many different customers. There used to be such a massive crowd of people that when I stepped out of the store I came upon many people. even at one time, there was once a wave of people and in that wave, I lost my wallet.  It was my fortune that I had not kept any of my archives and savings cards in the wallet. when we headed towards the meal corner, there was once also a big mass of people, I wasn’t aware of from where all these human beings came. whenever I go in any nook of the store I determine the equal large mass of humans there. The material corner, the food corner, the toy nook, and the baggage nook all are crammed with human beings. I used to be wondering in my thoughts how could it be feasible that in this large and deadly pandemic, people are no longer conscious about their health.

I referred to that people are greater conscious about what they seem to be rather than their health. I noticed many corporations of boys wandering there for no reason, growing the public load there and increasing the contamination fee more and more. Also in that busy shopping mall, I noticed that many people are violating the SOPS given with the aid of the government.  They are solely a problem with their buying no more subjects about their health. even though it used to be the most unusual tournament manifest with me there, from this event you can imagine how busy was once the shopping mall. when we stepped towards the lift, we located two humans there as there was space allowed for six human beings I with my three could enter the lift. but I was once sufficient to get me started up that another household came there having four members. I instructed them there is no more up space and more than six p people are now not allowed however there is no impact on it. also, I realize that there are additional compel to do so as there are many humans at the back of them waiting for the lift. It used to be simply a busy day in a busy shopping mall. I was intensely tired. I was once wondering about the aspect that how a whole lot of income would our government collect from these busy purchasing malls. I assume that if the government puts its efforts into boosting and advancing these shopping malls then we should acquire greater and more revenue.

In a nutshell, it was once a suitable ride in the busy shopping mall. though it was difficult to compete for things In such a busy shopping mall I was once an exact and happy day.