I think I read somewhere that using depressing experiences like rape or death is discouraged because it makes the reader feel uncomfortable, but there was a section where I needed to explain any gaps in enrollment for high school (I was withdrawn for a year). Any tips or suggestions would be much appreciated! Thank you in advance.
Rape. Such an ugly word. There are safety seminars filled with warnings and gruesome stories in the news, but we never give these things much though until we ourselves are victims. We think we're invincible. It happened to me during my junior year. Junior year, during which I was taking 6 AP/IB courses at once. Junior year, which is notorious at my school - and probably most schools - for being the toughest, gnarliest, most crucial year of our high school career. You either make it or you don't.
Before that fateful night, I was involved, driven, and confident. I sailed through the first quarter with A's, while actively volunteering within my community each week and dedicating nearly 500 hours to marching band practices and performances. I was raring to go; I was excited for my future.
I never would have thought that I would spend the next year struggling to get out of bed each morning. Facing my assailant each day in my Calculus class and in the hallways was an impossible task, and my attempting to hide the incident only contributed to feeling alone and helpless. Absences tallied up. People talked about me. Teachers wondered where I had gone, but were ultimately too caught up with the demands of their other students and deadlines. I stopped playing my beloved violin. Who knew that depression could hurt so much? The constant despair was so debilitating that it sometimes hurt to breathe. I spent every waking moment thinking of suicide. My mother, who referred to it as my "illness" like it was some kind of disease, shuttled me around to psychiatrists, therapists, and all kinds of specialists, trying to figure out what had happened, what had gone wrong.
That boy took more than my innocence that night; he stole two whole years from me. I will not let him sabotage my future. I used to look at these F's on my transcript and resent myself for letting it happen. Now, I look at them sandwiched between my A's and remember not the dark months I spent sobbing quietly into my pillow, but how I mustered the strength to fight back. Despite not having been in class, I still sat my AP tests and earned scores of 4 and 5 for all of them. I sought peace and solace in my volunteer work, and I painted a happy mask for outsiders to see while I healed my insides.
I ended up failing nearly all my classes for one term and was withdrawn passing for another. The letter from the psychiatrist excused my absences for the school year, but the rest of the world doesn't stop for you when you're down. You have to pick yourself back up, patch your wounds the best you can, and keep on fighting. It is okay to seek help from others. Although I had to repeat the same courses while my friends moved on, I find that I am grateful for the experience
Today, I sit here on the same bed I cried myself to sleep in so many months ago and fill out these college applications knowing that I am infinitely stronger than before. I have weathered through the darkest storm. Even after the pelting rain and the brutal winds, I remain standing. I know, deep down to the bottom of my toes, that I am ready for any obstacle, for whatever college may have to throw at me. I am still excited about future and I would very much like to prove myself to you.
Rape. Such an ugly word. There are safety seminars filled with warnings and gruesome stories in the news, but we never give these things much though until we ourselves are victims. We think we're invincible. It happened to me during my junior year. Junior year, during which I was taking 6 AP/IB courses at once. Junior year, which is notorious at my school - and probably most schools - for being the toughest, gnarliest, most crucial year of our high school career. You either make it or you don't.
Before that fateful night, I was involved, driven, and confident. I sailed through the first quarter with A's, while actively volunteering within my community each week and dedicating nearly 500 hours to marching band practices and performances. I was raring to go; I was excited for my future.
I never would have thought that I would spend the next year struggling to get out of bed each morning. Facing my assailant each day in my Calculus class and in the hallways was an impossible task, and my attempting to hide the incident only contributed to feeling alone and helpless. Absences tallied up. People talked about me. Teachers wondered where I had gone, but were ultimately too caught up with the demands of their other students and deadlines. I stopped playing my beloved violin. Who knew that depression could hurt so much? The constant despair was so debilitating that it sometimes hurt to breathe. I spent every waking moment thinking of suicide. My mother, who referred to it as my "illness" like it was some kind of disease, shuttled me around to psychiatrists, therapists, and all kinds of specialists, trying to figure out what had happened, what had gone wrong.
That boy took more than my innocence that night; he stole two whole years from me. I will not let him sabotage my future. I used to look at these F's on my transcript and resent myself for letting it happen. Now, I look at them sandwiched between my A's and remember not the dark months I spent sobbing quietly into my pillow, but how I mustered the strength to fight back. Despite not having been in class, I still sat my AP tests and earned scores of 4 and 5 for all of them. I sought peace and solace in my volunteer work, and I painted a happy mask for outsiders to see while I healed my insides.
I ended up failing nearly all my classes for one term and was withdrawn passing for another. The letter from the psychiatrist excused my absences for the school year, but the rest of the world doesn't stop for you when you're down. You have to pick yourself back up, patch your wounds the best you can, and keep on fighting. It is okay to seek help from others. Although I had to repeat the same courses while my friends moved on, I find that I am grateful for the experience
Today, I sit here on the same bed I cried myself to sleep in so many months ago and fill out these college applications knowing that I am infinitely stronger than before. I have weathered through the darkest storm. Even after the pelting rain and the brutal winds, I remain standing. I know, deep down to the bottom of my toes, that I am ready for any obstacle, for whatever college may have to throw at me. I am still excited about future and I would very much like to prove myself to you.
