JoviS 1 / - Nov 26, 2014 #1The given prompt was: Tell us a story from your life, describing an experience that either demonstrates your character or helped to shape it.Concerns- Can you imagine the experience through my eyes? Grammar issues? Did I do a good job of answering the prompt? Any other advice?I can still hear myself even when the noises in my life overwhelm me. My story starts in second grade. Oh yes, second grade, a time when kids pick up their first copy of Frog and Toad, and use their fingers to count. Sure, I read Frog and Toad but I also had to watch my mom clean up her vomit. My mother was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was eight years old. I felt helpless because the noise that was cancer had disrupted my childhood. Now at eighteen I know that it enabled me flourish into the resilient young woman I am today."Are my eyes puffy?" she would ask. Her voice alone revealed to me the intensity of this question. I could not let her face the stares of unaware spectators. I'd tell her "kind of" and this would result in us eventually not going to the store, the birthday party or the restaurant. For a long time I kept this memory in mind. I did not allow people to see me for who I really was. Like my mother, I hid myself away from others to avoid judgement. Luckily, I was able to eventually allow myself to be vulnerable when I took chemistry sophomore year. My teacher told us on the first day that everyone had to be willing to work together. I immediately knew that I could not be timid. I felt so free in that class and fell in love with the labs, the periodic table and even the mystifying mole. Ever since that class I have become more carefree and aware of my passion. My mother's treatment and my love for chemistry have prompted me to seek a career in the medical field, as a pharmacist.Her illness destroyed what little naiveity I had. I had to be sentient and supportive. Still til this day . I'm a friend who is always willing to listen. Just recently I was a sister who took her brother to almost every red box just to find a copy of Call of Duty: Advance Warfare. I'm the same daughter who had to explain to her mom what a tweet was and remind her that "retweeting is like repeating...no it is not stealing." If anyone is in need of help I am always willing to assist them. I remember when the wig store was a place we frequented quite a bit. My mom would search through the array of wigs just so she could find normalcy. This was a painful truth because I knew that our normalcy no longer obtainable. What I was in control of was the way I lived with it.Today I am still figuring how to tolerate it but the way I see things now makes it easier. I believe that pain can not be felt if it is overly saturated by optimism.Whenever I feel overwhelmed I remember the power of optimism and how that power often eliminates sorrow. As was the case for my mom, faith forces me to survive for my family and myself. I pride myself in being a friend that one can count on, and a daughter who regardless of seeing her mother at her worst is reminded that her mother is the best. Sometimes I wonder...will I be able to hear myself the same when there is no more noise to bother me?