Attempt number 3 at my PS

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Attempt number 3 at my PS

Postby lornarose07 » Thu Oct 28, 2010 6:20 pm

I'm fully aware that some images in this draft are very graphic. I figured, go big or go home for now and I can tone it down if necessary. But really, I don't think there's any other statement I can make that's any more personal than this.

Recently, one of my social work professors posed the following question to our class: “Who is your role model?” Some students said “mom”, some said “dad”, I even heard a story about a babysitter. Tucked in the corner, I furiously debated with myself over whether or not I should share my answer with the class. Timidly, I raised my hand and said, “My grandma.” When my professor what she had done that lead me to admire her, I gave the most honest answer I could muster without breaking open the floodgates that were holding back my tears.

You see, my grandma struggled to live with lung cancer for ten years. During those ten years, she witnessed my father, her only son, succumb to an alcohol and drug addiction that had been dormant until I was nine years old. She was shuffled in and out of hospitals and nursing homes until the day she passed away, in our living room, in a hospital-style bed surrounded by feeding tubes, an oxygen machine and other various medical gadgets. She endured my teenage mood swings, and the sour attitude of my grandfather (who passed away a month prior to her). Through all of this, she faced the greatest physical pain one could possibly imagine due to her cancer and the subsequent complications that resulted from it. Most of all, however, she suffered with knowing that she was all that I had, and that one day she would be gone and I would have no one.

When that day finally came, it was the most difficult day of my life. I’d just got done planning a funeral a month ago for my grandpa; how could this possibly be happening? After the shock, denial, and anger subsided, I was left with fear. Fear of what would happen to me: where would I go, where was I going to live? My father’s alcohol and drug use had finally come to end when I was fifteen, after he overdosed on heroin and rose from a coma two weeks later with a traumatic brain injury that would keep him in a nursing home for the rest of his life. My mother’s drug and alcohol problems are worse than my father’s, as they are supplemented with prostitution and a knack for abandoning all six of her children with their respective fathers. My grandma had left me the house we lived in, but at nineteen years old my chances of getting financed for a mortgage that would allow me to keep our unpaid house were slim to none. It seemed as if I had only just begun feeling what it was like to suffer.

I refused, however, to suffer because in my mind, being a victim of circumstances was never an option. Instead, I was a survivor. When dad didn’t come home for days at a time, I made myself a nice big bowl of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese (still my comfort food of choice). When my grandma passed away and I knew I needed to figure out how to support myself financially, I found a job as a nanny working 48 hours a week for a wonderful family that I’m still in touch with. After a series of physically abusive relationships, and after having become a victim of sexual assault during my freshman year of college, I became an advocate for raising awareness about domestic and sexual violence through the Miss America Organization. When I knew I needed to continue pursuing my education, I put my house up for sale and stuffed all of my belongings into my one-bedroom apartment in Syracuse, NY where I am a social work major at Syracuse University. Now, when I reflect back on my life, I realize that I didn’t survive because I was lucky; it was because I was built for it. My academic career thus far has been the manifestation of my commitment to ensuring that those who consider themselves to be victims, be they neglected children or victims of violence, have every opportunity to become survivors.

I told my social work professor, and the rest of my class, “My grandma lived with cancer for ten years. She showed me what it takes to become a survivor when you feel like a sufferer.”

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Re: Attempt number 3 at my PS

Postby CanadianWolf » Thu Oct 28, 2010 6:38 pm

This is an interesting & heart-breaking life history that is sure to engender sympathy, but may not help your law school applications to schools seeking more than the ability to survive.
Some of your sentences become too lengthy & a bit confusing and, therefore, need to be written in a more concise fashion. Try to inject some energy & optimism into your story. Your conclusion is too depressing.
Last edited by CanadianWolf on Thu Oct 28, 2010 6:40 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: Attempt number 3 at my PS

Postby bk1 » Thu Oct 28, 2010 6:40 pm

This isn't enough about you.

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Re: Attempt number 3 at my PS

Postby lornarose07 » Thu Oct 28, 2010 8:36 pm

Thank you and thank you. Bk, you're freakin right... I tried to give as much background info as I could and it was obviously unsuccessful. Gah. Why couldn't mom and dad be a teacher and a doctor respectively and raised me in a two-story house with a white picket fence?! This might be SO much easier then.

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