joshcruz428
Oct 14, 2015
Undergraduate / Sleep Paralysis - Essay on having a meaningful 'thing' which completes you as a person [6]
Prompt: Some students have a background, identity, interest, or talent that is so meaningful they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.
To rid myself of demons, all I have to do is twitch my pinky. Wiggling my fingers enables the rest of my hand to move, allowing me to fixate all my energy into breaking the invisible chains that bind me to my coffin. As I resist the ropes tying me down, I have to ignore the sensation of millions of unseen needles jabbing and numbing my body because revealing any fragment of weakness wrenches me down again, inviting the ghouls to return. Only after straining every muscle, stretching every sinew, and expelling every breath, can I liberate yourself from the imaginary monster's straitjacket. Only then, can I go back to sleep.
When the curse of sleep paralysis creeps into my bedroom almost every night, it brings nothing but a relentless determination to break my spirits with its hallucinatory weapons - the inability to move, the persistent screaming in my ear, the shadowy figure watching from the corner. These stimuli mercilessly bombard my senses, leading to an overwhelming sense of terror. The uphill battle of defeating this psychological enemy night after night quickly becomes exhausting, often causing me to question why I continue to fight. But sleep paralysis thrives off of fear, intensifying the mental anguish every time my courage falters. Though it took a few months to discover, I soon learned that panic, fear, and helplessness crumble when I stand firm.
There's no better word to describe the chronic perfectionist than 'paralyzed.' My life once resembled a series of carefully calculated chess moves, a tedious game with no egg timer. When things got hard, my bishop in danger, my knights cornered, my queen doomed, I always chose to forfeit. I'd abandon my current passion at the slightest hint of failure, all of my pawns intact, because I refused to move any of them. And as I hopped from board to board, chasing down the impossible flawless victory, the demons sat by and laughed.
During one of my more intense episodes of sleep paralysis, I imagined flames engulfing my house. The crackling wood and falling beams failed to drown out my internal screams as I desperately tried to break free of my invisible prison. However, safety concerns didn't induce my panic: the only thought that occupied my mind was the fact that paper was flammable, and the essay sitting on my desk was due tomorrow. When I finally freed myself from my literal paralysis, I realized that I remained mentally paralyzed, trapped by the chains of extreme prudence.
Twitch. I raised my hand to answer a hard question in class. Twitch. I volunteered to captain the precalculus team despite never taking the class before. Twitch. I auditioned for the All-State Orchestra. Twitch. I signed up for HL Math, arguably the hardest class in our IB curriculum. Twitch. I ordered the self-study AP Physics C book. Though seemingly insignificant, each pinky wiggle, each tiny step out of my comfort zone brought me closer to an awakening that was ignited by my failures: I got questions wrong, failed to teach certain concepts, tanked my audition, received a 40% on a test, and I still choke up when asked about Ampere's Law. But the temporary pains of failures, the unseen needles jabbing and numbing my body remain necessary obstacles to growth and awakening. My chronic sleep paralysis shows no signs of abating, but by removing the restrictions of a perfection-driven comfort zone, I can fearlessly explore life's boundaries, in my own flawed and imperfect, but ultimately liberated and self-determined way.
Prompt: Some students have a background, identity, interest, or talent that is so meaningful they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.
To rid myself of demons, all I have to do is twitch my pinky. Wiggling my fingers enables the rest of my hand to move, allowing me to fixate all my energy into breaking the invisible chains that bind me to my coffin. As I resist the ropes tying me down, I have to ignore the sensation of millions of unseen needles jabbing and numbing my body because revealing any fragment of weakness wrenches me down again, inviting the ghouls to return. Only after straining every muscle, stretching every sinew, and expelling every breath, can I liberate yourself from the imaginary monster's straitjacket. Only then, can I go back to sleep.
When the curse of sleep paralysis creeps into my bedroom almost every night, it brings nothing but a relentless determination to break my spirits with its hallucinatory weapons - the inability to move, the persistent screaming in my ear, the shadowy figure watching from the corner. These stimuli mercilessly bombard my senses, leading to an overwhelming sense of terror. The uphill battle of defeating this psychological enemy night after night quickly becomes exhausting, often causing me to question why I continue to fight. But sleep paralysis thrives off of fear, intensifying the mental anguish every time my courage falters. Though it took a few months to discover, I soon learned that panic, fear, and helplessness crumble when I stand firm.
There's no better word to describe the chronic perfectionist than 'paralyzed.' My life once resembled a series of carefully calculated chess moves, a tedious game with no egg timer. When things got hard, my bishop in danger, my knights cornered, my queen doomed, I always chose to forfeit. I'd abandon my current passion at the slightest hint of failure, all of my pawns intact, because I refused to move any of them. And as I hopped from board to board, chasing down the impossible flawless victory, the demons sat by and laughed.
During one of my more intense episodes of sleep paralysis, I imagined flames engulfing my house. The crackling wood and falling beams failed to drown out my internal screams as I desperately tried to break free of my invisible prison. However, safety concerns didn't induce my panic: the only thought that occupied my mind was the fact that paper was flammable, and the essay sitting on my desk was due tomorrow. When I finally freed myself from my literal paralysis, I realized that I remained mentally paralyzed, trapped by the chains of extreme prudence.
Twitch. I raised my hand to answer a hard question in class. Twitch. I volunteered to captain the precalculus team despite never taking the class before. Twitch. I auditioned for the All-State Orchestra. Twitch. I signed up for HL Math, arguably the hardest class in our IB curriculum. Twitch. I ordered the self-study AP Physics C book. Though seemingly insignificant, each pinky wiggle, each tiny step out of my comfort zone brought me closer to an awakening that was ignited by my failures: I got questions wrong, failed to teach certain concepts, tanked my audition, received a 40% on a test, and I still choke up when asked about Ampere's Law. But the temporary pains of failures, the unseen needles jabbing and numbing my body remain necessary obstacles to growth and awakening. My chronic sleep paralysis shows no signs of abating, but by removing the restrictions of a perfection-driven comfort zone, I can fearlessly explore life's boundaries, in my own flawed and imperfect, but ultimately liberated and self-determined way.