Essay on Fighting For Freedom-Personal Narrative

This I believe. A fighter, That’s what some people call me. Family, friends, people I don’t even really know. They call me a fighter because I fight in my head, against something that can be way more powerful than me. If I win a fight, they call me a fighter because I overcame it, I faced it and won. If I loose, They call me a fighter because I get back on my feet and face it again. There is an infinite amount of rounds. I am almost always fighting. Fighting for my freedom, my happiness, fighting for an amazing life. How do I not give up after 11 years? How do I not get tired?

Cause | believe I am strong. I believe that life is a game. There are challenges and obstacles, big and small, that makes life hard. But at the end of every challenge, there is an adventure, an experience. Everyone’s game is full of challenge and experiences, good or bad. Only the strongest people are willing to get up and play, and if an obstacle knocks them down, and they feel like giving up, the strong get back up, and win their game based off of happy experiences, and how they don’t let their challenges take over them. The strong fight till the end.

The strong never give up, and in the end, they win in their own way. Everyone can win their game in their own way. Only those who quit, give up, loose. You can’t quit in the middle of a game. You have to finish it. You have to have the confidence to win. That’s how games work. My game is isn’t perfect, I have a big obstacle, what is it? Obsessive Compulsive Disorder Ever since I could walk, I showed signs. I would get up early in the morning, take all the canned foods out of the pantry, and organize them by color, shape, and size. That was just of the many things.

My arents just thought I was a strange kid, but it’s not their fault, they didn’t know. I was a calm, distracted, happy kid. A mental illness seemed impossible for me. But it only grew from there. By 2nd grade, my parents knew something was up. I organized everything, art supplies, Halloween candy, books, and more. I wrote down daily schedules of what I would do that day, and tried my absolute best to follow it. If someone or something changed it, I panicked, it brought me to tears. Everything had to be perfect, I would keep random stuff in prurses or bags, not throwing anything away.

But mostly, they noticed something when I developed my fear of sickness. Stomach flu, food poisoning, Colds, and cancer. All of it was terrifying. I never wanted to get sick. I would try holding my breathe, I washed my hands at least 50 times a day causing them to dry up and crack. I never wanted to go to school on Thursdays cause one time I got sick on a Thursday and I thought Thursday was my bad luck day. When all this occurred, that’s when my parents took me to see a therapist. I was diagnosed with OCD my first appointment. My dad and his family has it, so it is a genetic thing.

We got started immediately, my therapist and I would talk about all my problems, organization, collecting, Thursdays, sickness. My dad asked me how it felt, so I could recognize it when my OCD Strikes. I said my OCD felt like a tornado, spinning around in my head, we came up with a name for it, spinning. I still use it today. Me and my therapist developed teqniques that can help me fight back, such as distracting myself or deep breathing. I got some medicine to calm it down. It got worse, but I was getting better every day. Thad been in therapy for 3 years. I’d spin about the most random things.

Anything could set my off. Geckos, Hanna Montana, I became extremely obsessed over orca whales and marine animals; Tread facts, books, and websites about them for a long time every day, and I would talk about them constantly. I dreamed of being a seaworld trainer, so I wanted to be smart and prepared for that. In 3rd, 4th, and 5th grade, spinning came in waves, one moment I would be totally fine, the next I would be bursting into tears. I would have panic attacks, my brain playing tricks on me, making me feel sick. Meltdowns were the worst, crying, screaming, mentally breaking down.

But As my OCD got worse, I got more in control. I could fight. My therapist was not the only person who helped me, all my family was there helping and supporting me, my dad, who understands me cause he has it too, my mom, who does everything in her power to help me, and my little sister, who always lets me talk. Even our pets help me out. Everything was somewhat in control. I was fighting, I was facing my challenge. I don’t know why everything fell apart in 6th grade. They said with the new school and increasing my mess as my body was changing made it worse, not better.

It did, It got a lot worse. Everything had to be perfect for middle school. My locker had to be the best locker ever, my clothes had to be awesome, and most importantly, I needed to fit in. I needed to be popular. I would try my best to be friends with the cool girls. I wanted to be known through middle school. After the documentary Blackfish came out, I was devastated. For 3 years I wanted to be a seaworld trainer. I was outraged that they were doing that stuff to their orcas, my whole opinion changed, and all I thought about was if they will ever free their orcas.

Another thing was as learned allowance money, I began to collect again, art supplies, candy, and other things. I would waste my money on things | didn’t need, and would never use, and when my parents said no, The rage attacks began. They said it was because of the medicine. It is all hazy to me. All I know was they were never pretty. I couldn’t fight, couldn’t use my techniques, couldn’t calm down. It consumed me; I became a whole different person. It was mentally and physically traumatizing, also exhausting. It traumatized my family. And they were pretty common, I had at least one every day.

I went to a hospital in Portland after a while. They needed to figure out what was going on. They needed to figure out if I was going to be ok. I was there for a month. It wasn’t fun, I felt like was being held captive. My family visited me everyday. And after a lot of therapy and tests, they sat me and my family down and said that the high amount of meds, my OCD, and the growth of my body, made it very overwhelming for my mind and body, so that is what made me lose it. They sent me home that day. The rage attacks vanished, I don’t think I will ever be the same again. I thought to myself, I don’t think I can do this anymore.

I was traumatized. It was a scary experience and it changed me. I knew that Portland did help me, It got rid of my rage attacks and made me feel much better by changing my meds, but that didn’t get rid of the trauma. l changed my bedroom so I didn’t have to remember the terrifying rage attacks, I cried, I was terrified that I would have to go again, I had nightmares, I pulled my hair out, and school seemed horrifying to come back to. But I went to therapy, I slowly got back on my feet, I got better, regained my skills, and after that horrible experience, I finally got up and started my life again.

I wouldn’t let this take over my life. I wanted to be happy. That’s why they call me strong, that’s why they call me a fighter. I had been through so much, and it was exhausting and terrifying, and I felt like giving up and hiding under the covers was the only way to feel peace, but I knew was wrong. I wouldn’t be happy, or in peace. I would feel sad. So I got back up, started fighting my fight, and continued my game. This would not ever get in my way. It hasn’t gone away, I still spin. But that doesn’t stop me from being happy.

It will not break me, I will never give up. Cause after my experience, know that I am strong, I know I can fight back, I know I can do anything. I will win my game. My family and friends will win with me, cause they have been strong too. Every time I feel like giving up, I remind myself that I have been through so much, and I got through it, I remind myself that I am strong, and brave. It makes me feel confident, ready to win another fight. I have normal problems too, fighting with friends, arguing with my parents, and other things. My OCD isn’t my only problem.

I have been happy too, I have fun with my friends, I read and write books, I like shooting my bow and arrow, I play tennis, I swim, I love art, go on epic vacations, and I read and write books. All of these are great distractions, they help me escape my mind for a little while. I don’t let my OCD take over the things I like doing. I have goals also, I want to become a marine biologist and travel the world. But that’s a long way away. I’m only 14 years old, and after all I even though, it’s funny when I think about my journey, my life, isn’t over. This is only the beginning.