Hi! I was hoping to receive some feedback on my life challenge essay for my first year UCLA Film and Television application. It can only be two pages long, which is about where it's at right now. I have two versions of this essay, this one is the newest version. It's due on Thursday, so I need feedback pretty soon. I'm pretty sure it's correct grammatically, but if you notice any errors please let me know. I mainly want feedback on the content, how engaging it is, etc. Any feedback is appreciated! Thank you.
The prompt is: Describe the most significant challenge you have faced and the steps you have taken to overcome this challenge.
There's a saying that if you've met a person with autism, then you've met one person with autism. It really is called a spectrum for a reason. Everyone's experience is unique.
When I think of my autism, there's one memory that bubbles up to the surface with surprising clarity.
I cupped my hands over my ears, sliding off my chair and curling up in a ball under the desk. I buried my face in my knees, tears soaking into my pants. No matter what I said, no one listened.
What did I expect? My classmates didn't know what it was like. They never would.
It's like drowning on dry land, like I'm falling deeper and deeper into the darkness of the ocean until I'm all alone with myself: my emotions and my thoughts
It became much more comfortable there than in reality. After all, it's just me. I could only hear myself, not the multitude of overwhelming voices that made my chest tighten and time slow to a stop in my head, even as the rest of the world around me continued to move.
But I was hurting myself more than the sounds around me. Those had already disappeared, replaced by the nagging voice in my head that said this is my fault, said that no one listened because no one cared, that I would always be that small little girl hiding under her desk who everyone tried to ignore.
All it took was a room of loud fourth graders enjoying Fun Friday.
That's what autism is like, at least for me. It's a constant struggle against your own nature and the preconceptions that your own behavior has created about you.
Day after day, my feelings of frustration and overwhelm sent me into shutdowns or outbursts. A small ticking time bomb that my mom now jokingly calls "Hurricane (my name)."
I can barely reconcile who I was then with who I am now. Although the isolation I felt then still lingers in my heart, today it's drowned out by better thoughts-and it's all thanks to rom-coms.
Okay, maybe not all thanks to rom-coms. It started out with sound canceling headphones and Adderall, so I could actually learn instead of doodling in my workbook the whole time.
Then my mom and I sat down together one day and watched a rom-com. The details are fuzzy around the edges, but I think my mom laughed at a joke or made some sort of reaction and I think I told her, "I don't get it." That was the day my mom realized that rom-coms were naturally confusing to me.
In rom-coms and dramas, the audience is often meant to interpret the intention or motivation behind a character's actions. In psychology, this is called theory of mind; understanding others and their actions by interpreting what they are thinking. This is something kids with autism notoriously struggle with.
So, we watched as many as we could, like How to Lose A Guy in 10 Days or Gilmore Girls. My mom paused every once in a while to ask me if I understood a certain joke or why a character did something. The answer was typically no, so we spent hours and hours helping me learn to understand people through rom-coms. I know it sounds silly, but it worked.
Today, the painful struggles of elementary school feel like a lifetime ago. There is no need to pause when we watch a rom-com and I haven't needed to take Adderall for years. Now I'm more adept at picking up on social cues, I have been able to build an active social life and a wonderful friend group. I have the confidence to push myself outside my comfort zone in ways I could have never imagined just a few years ago. I am confident that I can tackle any challenge. After all, I've worked too hard to give in to pessimism now-and I am resourceful.
The prompt is: Describe the most significant challenge you have faced and the steps you have taken to overcome this challenge.
There's a saying that if you've met a person with autism, then you've met one person with autism. It really is called a spectrum for a reason. Everyone's experience is unique.
When I think of my autism, there's one memory that bubbles up to the surface with surprising clarity.
I cupped my hands over my ears, sliding off my chair and curling up in a ball under the desk. I buried my face in my knees, tears soaking into my pants. No matter what I said, no one listened.
What did I expect? My classmates didn't know what it was like. They never would.
It's like drowning on dry land, like I'm falling deeper and deeper into the darkness of the ocean until I'm all alone with myself: my emotions and my thoughts
It became much more comfortable there than in reality. After all, it's just me. I could only hear myself, not the multitude of overwhelming voices that made my chest tighten and time slow to a stop in my head, even as the rest of the world around me continued to move.
But I was hurting myself more than the sounds around me. Those had already disappeared, replaced by the nagging voice in my head that said this is my fault, said that no one listened because no one cared, that I would always be that small little girl hiding under her desk who everyone tried to ignore.
All it took was a room of loud fourth graders enjoying Fun Friday.
That's what autism is like, at least for me. It's a constant struggle against your own nature and the preconceptions that your own behavior has created about you.
Day after day, my feelings of frustration and overwhelm sent me into shutdowns or outbursts. A small ticking time bomb that my mom now jokingly calls "Hurricane (my name)."
I can barely reconcile who I was then with who I am now. Although the isolation I felt then still lingers in my heart, today it's drowned out by better thoughts-and it's all thanks to rom-coms.
Okay, maybe not all thanks to rom-coms. It started out with sound canceling headphones and Adderall, so I could actually learn instead of doodling in my workbook the whole time.
Then my mom and I sat down together one day and watched a rom-com. The details are fuzzy around the edges, but I think my mom laughed at a joke or made some sort of reaction and I think I told her, "I don't get it." That was the day my mom realized that rom-coms were naturally confusing to me.
In rom-coms and dramas, the audience is often meant to interpret the intention or motivation behind a character's actions. In psychology, this is called theory of mind; understanding others and their actions by interpreting what they are thinking. This is something kids with autism notoriously struggle with.
So, we watched as many as we could, like How to Lose A Guy in 10 Days or Gilmore Girls. My mom paused every once in a while to ask me if I understood a certain joke or why a character did something. The answer was typically no, so we spent hours and hours helping me learn to understand people through rom-coms. I know it sounds silly, but it worked.
Today, the painful struggles of elementary school feel like a lifetime ago. There is no need to pause when we watch a rom-com and I haven't needed to take Adderall for years. Now I'm more adept at picking up on social cues, I have been able to build an active social life and a wonderful friend group. I have the confidence to push myself outside my comfort zone in ways I could have never imagined just a few years ago. I am confident that I can tackle any challenge. After all, I've worked too hard to give in to pessimism now-and I am resourceful.
