Prompt- Some students have a background or story that is so central to their identity that they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share this story.
I am all but thirteen years old, standing timidly in the corner of the class, counting down the minutes to the worst part of the school day. Lunch. Lunch never failed to make my stomach ache with butterflies. "Where was I going to sit today?" I questioned myself, nervously. For most, lunch was a welcomed break from their lessons. A time for others to share the daily gossip, spread rumors and talk endlessly till the bell rang for their next class. I, however, dreaded lunch. Lunch filled my stomach with nerves and besieged my thoughts with anxiety. Who would I sit with? Would anyone talk to me or would they make fun of me for sitting alone? I dragged my feet to the lunch room, walking as slowly I could manage. Eventually, I arrive at the cafeteria and glance around, looking for somewhere safe to spend my lunch period. I was shy, painfully shy. Haunted by the fear of rejection, I isolated myself almost entirely. I spoke only when spoken too. I never raised my hand in class or participated in class debates. I avoided school events all together. "If I didn't put myself out there" I rationalized, "I couldn't get hurt." Hopelessly, I settled on an empty table in the front of the cafeteria, strategically next to a group of teachers to keep me safe from my peer's ruthlessness. Time crawls by until the bell rings. "One more class to survive." I think to myself. When I finally arrive home, my sister greets me with one question that would change everything. "Sarah, how do you feel about gymnastics?"
The problem with shy individuals is that we are entirely too wrapped up in what other people think about us. We fear unsettling opinions, judgement and insults. Most of all, we fear being less than perfect. Less than perfect gave the vultures time to pick away at our insecurities and imperfections. My own anxiety and fear did not leave much room for relationships outside my immediate family. Most of my evenings were spent alone, puzzled and confused. "Why is it so much easier for everyone else not to care?" When my sister suggested gymnastics, It was a welcomed diversion from my everyday life. However, at the ripe age of thirteen, I was considered too old for gymnastics. I had exceeded the "statute of limitations:" in the gymnastics world. How could I ever compare to my stronger, younger and fearless counterparts? I decided to try anyway. It was just another meaningless activity anyway, right? Things didn't exactly go as planned. Time passed. Months flew by and before I knew it, I fell in love with gymnastics. I excelled in the recreational program, surpassed the pre-team program and by years end, was invited to join Tumble Time's competitive team.
Gymnastics swallowed me whole and spit me out as a whole new person. I am no longer the shy and anxious thirteen year old who walked into the gym all those years ago with her hands twitching nervously behind her back, ridden with fear. I no longer panic with anxiety, trying to find the words to speak, when someone asks me a simple question like "What's your name?". My coaches never stood allowed for such nonsense. "Speak up! I don't want a nod. I want an answer. " Gymnastics has allowed me to feel pain and pleasure, face fear and adversity, but most of all gifted me with the courage to accept myself no matter my flaws. As my career as a competitive gymnast comes to a close, as I retire my grips and hang up my leotards, I am walking away with much more than trophies and skills. I am walking away with something no therapist, teacher or parent could ever instill in me: confidence.
I really struggle with writing if It isn't apparent in my essay! I have rewritten this essay literally a million times... I would really appreciate some feedback/corrections. Thank you so much in advance.
I am all but thirteen years old, standing timidly in the corner of the class, counting down the minutes to the worst part of the school day. Lunch. Lunch never failed to make my stomach ache with butterflies. "Where was I going to sit today?" I questioned myself, nervously. For most, lunch was a welcomed break from their lessons. A time for others to share the daily gossip, spread rumors and talk endlessly till the bell rang for their next class. I, however, dreaded lunch. Lunch filled my stomach with nerves and besieged my thoughts with anxiety. Who would I sit with? Would anyone talk to me or would they make fun of me for sitting alone? I dragged my feet to the lunch room, walking as slowly I could manage. Eventually, I arrive at the cafeteria and glance around, looking for somewhere safe to spend my lunch period. I was shy, painfully shy. Haunted by the fear of rejection, I isolated myself almost entirely. I spoke only when spoken too. I never raised my hand in class or participated in class debates. I avoided school events all together. "If I didn't put myself out there" I rationalized, "I couldn't get hurt." Hopelessly, I settled on an empty table in the front of the cafeteria, strategically next to a group of teachers to keep me safe from my peer's ruthlessness. Time crawls by until the bell rings. "One more class to survive." I think to myself. When I finally arrive home, my sister greets me with one question that would change everything. "Sarah, how do you feel about gymnastics?"
The problem with shy individuals is that we are entirely too wrapped up in what other people think about us. We fear unsettling opinions, judgement and insults. Most of all, we fear being less than perfect. Less than perfect gave the vultures time to pick away at our insecurities and imperfections. My own anxiety and fear did not leave much room for relationships outside my immediate family. Most of my evenings were spent alone, puzzled and confused. "Why is it so much easier for everyone else not to care?" When my sister suggested gymnastics, It was a welcomed diversion from my everyday life. However, at the ripe age of thirteen, I was considered too old for gymnastics. I had exceeded the "statute of limitations:" in the gymnastics world. How could I ever compare to my stronger, younger and fearless counterparts? I decided to try anyway. It was just another meaningless activity anyway, right? Things didn't exactly go as planned. Time passed. Months flew by and before I knew it, I fell in love with gymnastics. I excelled in the recreational program, surpassed the pre-team program and by years end, was invited to join Tumble Time's competitive team.
Gymnastics swallowed me whole and spit me out as a whole new person. I am no longer the shy and anxious thirteen year old who walked into the gym all those years ago with her hands twitching nervously behind her back, ridden with fear. I no longer panic with anxiety, trying to find the words to speak, when someone asks me a simple question like "What's your name?". My coaches never stood allowed for such nonsense. "Speak up! I don't want a nod. I want an answer. " Gymnastics has allowed me to feel pain and pleasure, face fear and adversity, but most of all gifted me with the courage to accept myself no matter my flaws. As my career as a competitive gymnast comes to a close, as I retire my grips and hang up my leotards, I am walking away with much more than trophies and skills. I am walking away with something no therapist, teacher or parent could ever instill in me: confidence.
I really struggle with writing if It isn't apparent in my essay! I have rewritten this essay literally a million times... I would really appreciate some feedback/corrections. Thank you so much in advance.
