"If you wish, you may use this space to tell us anything else you want us to know about you that you have not had the opportunity to describe elsewhere in the application."
I have not yet had the opportunity in my application to discuss a very important thing in my life that has actually had a great impact on who I am today, and I will take that chance here. By the time I was I was six years old I had become well acquainted with shootouts in movies. I always saw the hero go down with a bullet to the chest, yet I always knew he would will himself up to the final challenge despite his fatal wound. I held the belief that if I was ever to face the bad guys in my own future shootout, I too would hold death at bay by willpower alone. Well, my shootout did come. The following year I was diagnosed with Tourette's syndrome. It started when I began to repeat simple phrases, and displayed small motor tics like eye blinking. While Tourette's varies in severity between sufferers, I had it bad. I would screech, twist and hop my way around my home and my school. My friends didn't seem to mind, and at the time neither did I, I was just another happy kid. However, as the years progressed my parents had a hard time; both being doctors they felt helpless not being able to help their own son. The tics interfered with my homework and at times made writing and even speaking impossible. Drawn to the edge, my parents tried medication, a central nervous system depressant to control the tics. While it seemed to help, my teachers begged my parents for the old Marley back, they liked the quick-witted little boy (albeit disruptive) much better than the somber and quiet one.
I began to see the pain that this disease caused, and it began to pain me. I grew angry and my tics grew worse, it hurt me not only mentally but physically, sore from all the twisting and hoarse from all the yelling. I became resolute, I would fight my demon, I would not submit anymore. I would start to control the tics, to control myself. This battle turned out to be harder even than those hero's that raise themselves from death. The tic is a terrible thing, it is voluntary, yet voluntary in the way marching with a gun at your back is voluntary. The more you fight it, the stronger the urge is, and the greater the release must be in the end. I began to fight the tics every day, every minute. I would usually lose, but at times I would succeed and suppress the urges that racked my body. Over the next few years, into high school, I gained more and more control through determined action and willpower.
I have tics today, but they no longer interfere with my life, I can control them when I need to, and let them out when I can. While this disease has been difficult, it has taught me much. It has changed me for the better; I have gained perspective and understanding of the base humanity that we all possess. I have been guided to learn the structures of the brain and the pathways of the mind. At age six I learned that while the hardest battle I would fight is the battle I fight alone, I would never surrender.
You guys detect any errors? I would love some criticism (I actually don't but give it to me anyways) :)
Also there is a 550 word limit, and this is 550 words.
I have not yet had the opportunity in my application to discuss a very important thing in my life that has actually had a great impact on who I am today, and I will take that chance here. By the time I was I was six years old I had become well acquainted with shootouts in movies. I always saw the hero go down with a bullet to the chest, yet I always knew he would will himself up to the final challenge despite his fatal wound. I held the belief that if I was ever to face the bad guys in my own future shootout, I too would hold death at bay by willpower alone. Well, my shootout did come. The following year I was diagnosed with Tourette's syndrome. It started when I began to repeat simple phrases, and displayed small motor tics like eye blinking. While Tourette's varies in severity between sufferers, I had it bad. I would screech, twist and hop my way around my home and my school. My friends didn't seem to mind, and at the time neither did I, I was just another happy kid. However, as the years progressed my parents had a hard time; both being doctors they felt helpless not being able to help their own son. The tics interfered with my homework and at times made writing and even speaking impossible. Drawn to the edge, my parents tried medication, a central nervous system depressant to control the tics. While it seemed to help, my teachers begged my parents for the old Marley back, they liked the quick-witted little boy (albeit disruptive) much better than the somber and quiet one.
I began to see the pain that this disease caused, and it began to pain me. I grew angry and my tics grew worse, it hurt me not only mentally but physically, sore from all the twisting and hoarse from all the yelling. I became resolute, I would fight my demon, I would not submit anymore. I would start to control the tics, to control myself. This battle turned out to be harder even than those hero's that raise themselves from death. The tic is a terrible thing, it is voluntary, yet voluntary in the way marching with a gun at your back is voluntary. The more you fight it, the stronger the urge is, and the greater the release must be in the end. I began to fight the tics every day, every minute. I would usually lose, but at times I would succeed and suppress the urges that racked my body. Over the next few years, into high school, I gained more and more control through determined action and willpower.
I have tics today, but they no longer interfere with my life, I can control them when I need to, and let them out when I can. While this disease has been difficult, it has taught me much. It has changed me for the better; I have gained perspective and understanding of the base humanity that we all possess. I have been guided to learn the structures of the brain and the pathways of the mind. At age six I learned that while the hardest battle I would fight is the battle I fight alone, I would never surrender.
You guys detect any errors? I would love some criticism (I actually don't but give it to me anyways) :)
Also there is a 550 word limit, and this is 550 words.
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