“Life is a game, play it; Life is a challenge, meet it; Life is an opportunity, capture it”-Unknown. My Uncle Steve lived by this, until he no longer could not. I was never close with him because he lived so far away but he was always my role model. Suffering from Attention Deficit Disorder, I never thought I could do anything with my life. Sitting down and working on anything was nearly impossible, discouraging me from believing I could accomplish anything. I’ve tried medication after medication and although it helped me concentrate it made me feel dead inside. I let me disorder define me, I used it as an excuse for why I would never do well in school and be successful in the future. I did not know my uncle had this disorder as well because
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The man who has hiked all of the trails in Santa Barbra and given lectures all over the world in now lies in bed unable to move or speak. He was no longer the man I looked up to, the man who motivated me to do better. I did not know who he was. The end of junior year my depression came back for the second time. I did not know what was wrong with me: not leaving bed, not socializing with my best friends, not doing my schoolwork. I could not recognize myself, I felt like my uncle, trapped in my own body. I knew I needed to get better but something inside of me was holding me down. I remember the day we got the phone call that my uncle was speaking, not just words but full sentences for the first time in a year. My mom and I raced over to his house in disbelief, unable to comprehend what has happened unless we saw it ourselves. Watching him overcome something so huge made me realize that I can too. He did not let his stroke define him, so why should I let me depression define me? From that day I have been better, stronger. I live my life for him, doing the things he no longer can do. I’ve decided to do some of his new years resolutions including reading fifty books. It is difficult to do but when I told him what I was doing he began bawling because it was the only way he could communicate his emotions. Whenever life gets tough I remember that it is myself holding me back not anyone else. I’ve beat depression and learned how to
The man who has hiked all of the trails in Santa Barbra and given lectures all over the world in now lies in bed unable to move or speak. He was no longer the man I looked up to, the man who motivated me to do better. I did not know who he was. The end of junior year my depression came back for the second time. I did not know what was wrong with me: not leaving bed, not socializing with my best friends, not doing my schoolwork. I could not recognize myself, I felt like my uncle, trapped in my own body. I knew I needed to get better but something inside of me was holding me down. I remember the day we got the phone call that my uncle was speaking, not just words but full sentences for the first time in a year. My mom and I raced over to his house in disbelief, unable to comprehend what has happened unless we saw it ourselves. Watching him overcome something so huge made me realize that I can too. He did not let his stroke define him, so why should I let me depression define me? From that day I have been better, stronger. I live my life for him, doing the things he no longer can do. I’ve decided to do some of his new years resolutions including reading fifty books. It is difficult to do but when I told him what I was doing he began bawling because it was the only way he could communicate his emotions. Whenever life gets tough I remember that it is myself holding me back not anyone else. I’ve beat depression and learned how to