Personal Narrative
Lexi Sherrill
ENC-2135
When I was born, I was pretty much a healthy baby, but less than a year later I was diagnosed with severe asthma. Now if you don’t know already asthma and an infant don’t mix well. By the age of three I had already caught pneumonia twice, and by the age of six I had caught pneumonia several times as well as having three life-threatening asthma attacks. Safe to say my parents were very concerned with my wellbeing at this point. When I was five and fresh out of pre-k and soon beginning my journey in kindergarten, I was told I would need to carry around a breathing machine. To me, a five-year-old, this didn’t seem fun in anyway and I was very embarrassed that I was going to have to start a new school with a huge breathing machine that made me sound like Darth Vader. My parents assured me that nobody would look at me any different, I think they overestimated the capabilities of five-year-olds to conceal their emotions. I had this breathing machine till first grade which is when I was officially told I no longer had asthma. Honestly though, kindergarten was no walk in the park for me. The curiosity these kids had around me made them bombard me with questions. Questions like “what is that machine you have to walk around with?” “why do you have to wear that mask all the time?” and worst of all “why can’t you come play tag with us?” These questions hurt me, even at such a young age I could comprehend enough to know that I was different, and people could see that. Hell, I couldn’t even go out at recess and play with the other kids. Good thing this only lasted a year because I don’t think me, or any other kids could deal with no recess for that long.
Fast forward past the uneventful years of elementary school, all the way to seventh grade. A very similar case of feeling different came back to me. From seventh grade to sophomore year of high school I fell victim to bullying. That sounds so cliché but its true. Middle school me with acne, braces, headgear, overweight, pretty much the whole nine yards. Not to sound like I’m pulling the pity card, but my whole middle school experience was pretty bad. I recall one specific traumatizing event in gym when everyone was changing in the locker rooms a group of three girls approached me and said, “do you mind changing in the bathroom because no one really wants to look at you.” Of course, this crushed me, and I did end up changing in the bathroom, and this was only the beginning of the torment and rumors. I think these experiences I had wrecked my self-esteem and confidence even to this day I struggle to see myself worthy of anything. Some days are better than others. It mostly sucked because even after I had my so called “Glo-up” I still felt somewhat ashamed of myself and felt as if everyone still saw me as the person I once was.
Comments