First few paragraphs...Am I going in the right direction?
Posted: Wed Jul 03, 2013 3:05 pm
Obviously this is my first daft. I'd appreciate any critiques.
My father and I took a walk one hot and cloudy Texas summer evening, as we did nearly every evening before this one. He told me the story of the King Edward of Scotland and the spider that led to his success in the war against England in 1314. As King Edward nearly fell victim to his despair, he was inspired by the little spider who failed to spin his web until his seventh attempt. King Edward placed all of his desires into this tiny organism, and left his fate to it, and when it succeeded, King Edward fought for the next eight years, never again wavering. How could my father know that this phrase would later save my life?
This particular story resonated deeply within me, a skinny and anxious African American, who was filled with an undying ambition for greatness. In all walks of my life, I have been told that I was just simply not good enough. I was always seen as inferior for one reason or another, and those that attempted to discourage me never realized that they were just pushing me to prove them wrong. As their words penetrated my heart with the force of a nuclear bomb, my body developed a crippling generalized anxiety disorder that would spend seven years ravaging my mind before being diagnosed. Although my disorder is seemingly invisible to those who don’t see beyond the barrier of my mind, the scars are forever permanent. Before, during, and after every meal for seven years I was filled with a bout of nausea that would leave me penetrated in fear of vomiting. I became obsessed with my health, praying constantly to never fall ill.
My body and soul grew weak as I wished for some cure. I had already been to a gastroenterologist and they found nothing wrong. My family had long since abandoned my belief that something was amiss in my body and began to believe that I would simply grow out of it. I remember lying in bed writhing with fear and nausea and just wishing that one day I would be able to wake up and never feel this way again.
The disorder grew and became more tyrannical until one fateful New Years’ Day when it reached its peak and I began dry heaving every morning thereafter. As I leaned over the toilet with its smell of bleach, I remembered the story of King Edward. “One day”, I said to myself, “I will succeed”. I believed that no matter the strength of my enemy, the anxiety, I could overcome it with enough persistence. Every time after this, when I was plagued with a bout of nausea, I examined myself mentally to ensure that there was no authentic cause of the symptom, and then whispered to myself, “You’re not ill, not today”.
As time passed, I began to notice that the anxiety was finally subsiding.
My father and I took a walk one hot and cloudy Texas summer evening, as we did nearly every evening before this one. He told me the story of the King Edward of Scotland and the spider that led to his success in the war against England in 1314. As King Edward nearly fell victim to his despair, he was inspired by the little spider who failed to spin his web until his seventh attempt. King Edward placed all of his desires into this tiny organism, and left his fate to it, and when it succeeded, King Edward fought for the next eight years, never again wavering. How could my father know that this phrase would later save my life?
This particular story resonated deeply within me, a skinny and anxious African American, who was filled with an undying ambition for greatness. In all walks of my life, I have been told that I was just simply not good enough. I was always seen as inferior for one reason or another, and those that attempted to discourage me never realized that they were just pushing me to prove them wrong. As their words penetrated my heart with the force of a nuclear bomb, my body developed a crippling generalized anxiety disorder that would spend seven years ravaging my mind before being diagnosed. Although my disorder is seemingly invisible to those who don’t see beyond the barrier of my mind, the scars are forever permanent. Before, during, and after every meal for seven years I was filled with a bout of nausea that would leave me penetrated in fear of vomiting. I became obsessed with my health, praying constantly to never fall ill.
My body and soul grew weak as I wished for some cure. I had already been to a gastroenterologist and they found nothing wrong. My family had long since abandoned my belief that something was amiss in my body and began to believe that I would simply grow out of it. I remember lying in bed writhing with fear and nausea and just wishing that one day I would be able to wake up and never feel this way again.
The disorder grew and became more tyrannical until one fateful New Years’ Day when it reached its peak and I began dry heaving every morning thereafter. As I leaned over the toilet with its smell of bleach, I remembered the story of King Edward. “One day”, I said to myself, “I will succeed”. I believed that no matter the strength of my enemy, the anxiety, I could overcome it with enough persistence. Every time after this, when I was plagued with a bout of nausea, I examined myself mentally to ensure that there was no authentic cause of the symptom, and then whispered to myself, “You’re not ill, not today”.
As time passed, I began to notice that the anxiety was finally subsiding.