Personal Narrative

I, Melisa Jones, was born on a chilly eve of 16th January 1994. I was born to my beloved Bolivian parents, Mr. and Mrs. Jones White. They were living in Mexico but had just relocated to Argentina before receiving the bounty blessings of the beautiful bouncing baby girl. Being the first-born of this couple, I am told how joy engraved them on that morning. My parents had unsuccessfully tried getting a baby for five years before my conception, and for this reason, I happened to be the ‘awaited’ jewel. However, I only enjoyed one year of being pampered and receiving all the attention before my brother Ryan was born.

My dad and mum are the complete opposite of each other in terms of cultural upbringing. Karen, my mum, had lived in Mexico all her life with her military dad. She was brought up with strict American customs. On the other hand, my dad was raised in rural areas by his grandmother in a village in Massachusetts before leaving for Mexico after college. You might be wondering how these two lovebirds came to be despite their differences. Well, my dad found his way to the military barracks one day as he was going to inspect some buildings that were being constructed. He is an architect.

Childhood And Schooling

I have several memories of my childhood that are very vague to some extent. My mother tells me that on the day I was born, it still rings fresh in her mind. She had been in painful labour for hours, which almost left her senseless. Immediately after my birth, I heard that I slept for hours until those around me started getting worried. I spent the first day ‘relaxing’ after the constant fight I had while in the womb. Mysteriously, I was born, being stubborn. Crying was not my thing. I would stay awake until morning, which gave my parents sleepless nights. Despite these, I grew up just like the other babies do, walking at age one. I started murmuring my first words in Spanish due to the environment I was growing up in, only to speak English at three years old.

I was enrolled at a local Kindergarten at the age of three in 1997, where I interacted with children who spoke Spanish and English. Here, we learned children’s songs and played in the sandbox in the mornings. In the afternoons, we watched Disney cartoons before being picked up at home. To date, I remember us singing “The Turkey Hop Song” and competing who would shake the tail best. Then one day as we tried to outdo each other I shook my behind, staggered the fell in the classroom’s dustbin. My buttocks were stuck there for some minutes, only to be removed by our caregiver. It became a routine that my classmates would pause for a laugh every time the song started shaking a bit. To date, some of them call me ‘Pou,’ the short form of a pout.

After finishing kindergarten, my dad insisted that I study in a bilingual institution in Argentina, where I studied Spanish and English as core languages. By this time, my brother was grown enough for Kindergarten. We would share daily experiences from our respective schools in the evening. However, I was such a controller and a bully, for that matter, that I would not allow him to narrate something new that I had never experienced while in kindergarten. Some of my vacations were spent visiting my grandmother in Massachusetts. I loved visiting my paternal grannie due to the setup in the village. I enjoyed the stay there more than I would in Mexico.

While in the upcountry, I was very protective of my brother. I would compare our usual residence with the state of the village and then get a mismatch. Although I enjoyed life there, I felt that it was bothersome to my brother. I would protect him and possess him, making sure those village girls and boys could not annoy him. Some were way too big for me, but my stubbornness could not allow me to bend to any of them. I learned how to be a kid and learned how to relate well with other children. However, I was very strict and would assume the responsibilities of the big sister wherever we played, irrespective of who I was playing with at that time.

One Christmas season we spent at my grandmother’s place was memorable. It was on 24th December, and all plans for the D-day were put in place. My parents were to join us in the evening for the celebrations. I never got a chance to interact with my paternal grandparents since he had succumbed to colon cancer when I was three months old. Here we were in the company of our beloved grandmother, who would do everything to please us. On this day, the Christmas tree was lit and placed near one of the windows. Endless rains were pouring down and splashing into large puddles that filled the pavements. Our beloved grandmother was seated near the fireplace, sharpening Ryan’s pencils with a razor blade. She had unpacked watercolour paints and paintbrushes for us to draw the image of the Christmas Tree. She was dressed in a buggy woollen sweater that enclosed her long and floral blue dress.

I was becoming impatient with her slowness and thus moved from where I was standing to lean on her sofa. I watched her rearrange the paintbrushes so we could start drawing. The fragrance of a mixture of sweet perfume and the mild odour of her watercolours filled the room. She commissioned the painting by first illustrating what she expected of us. After a few minutes, the three of us were genuinely carried by the exercise. She served us tea to keep us going in the practice. At some point, I was keen to copy the moves she was taking to come up with an exact drawing like hers. Inattentively, she dished her brush into the tea and raised up the dye to her lips. It was not until the dark liquid touched her lips that she realised her mess. I remember how we laughed at her and started mocking her for blending tea and paint. Mummy and Daddy then arrived soaking wet.

Everything seemed perfect for us as we were doing great in school and family, and we were happy kids. Unexpectedly, things took a U-turn, with the entire picture falling when my dad and mum filed for divorce.

I was only thirteen years old at the onset of my puberty. For some months, I noticed my dad and mum sleeping in separate rooms. When I was ten years of age, they were blessed with a baby boy who was named Dylan. My brother and I joyfully received him and welcomed him into our circle. We would compete on who to be with him, sit next to him, or be sent to pick anything that Mum would want for him. There was a day my brother Ryan bit me on the elbow as we struggled to take the baby bibs to the nanny. It would have gotten to child rivalry had it not been for my mum, who distinctively defined our duties to Dylan. All this time, my dad started being an absentee father. The frequency at which we were visiting grandmother was declining drastically. I remember a day my brother Ryan hid in his grandmother’s car after she came to visit us. He wanted to go with her to the village. He had pretended to have slept only to be heard coughing when the car took off.

I remember how we relocated to Texas to stay with Dad and my brother Ryan. I lived there in a confusing situation but with some fun times because Dad would do everything possible to make us feel comfortable. It took months before adapting to the new environment, unlike Ryan, who seemed like he had been in Texas before. He would play soccer and bike with some neighbourhood boys during our free time. I would stay indoors very hermit and thoughtful. I would visit my mother and Dylan after school closed, yet I missed them throughout the term. Upon asking my dad about the change in lifestyle, he told me, “My princess, dad, and mum love you so much and wish you the very best. But, what is happening you cannot understand now, but with time.” I remember the gloomy look and appearance on the all-day glittering face of my father vividly. Being only twelve, I regretted not seeing my dad and mum hold and hug each other as it was the norm. I had many questions unanswered, but the atmosphere was not serene enough to provide answers.

Upon completing my junior high, at the age of fourteen years, I enrolled at Glendon’s Group of Schools. Glendon’s is a school in southern Texas, not far away from where my dad worked. He would often come to see me during the weekends, accompanied by my brother. On every visit, I would talk privately to Ryan, asking about my grandmother, mum, and Dylan. With time, I came to learn that my mum was no longer living in Argentina but had moved. Sad enough, no one would tell about her whereabouts nor those of Dylan. The news pierced deep into my fresh heart. I could not imagine never seeing her again. I felt disowned and neglected. I felt faint-hearted, no longer the healthy girl I had been for years.

I may call it a duration of depression, just due to lack of a proper expressive word. I got torn into pieces. I could no longer concentrate on my studies and school. The heartbreak saw me hospitalized for months, and I had to go through counselling sessions. It was at this point when the happenings came to my understanding. I had just finalized their divorce, which saw my mother move to Canada with Dylan. Dylan was the epicentre of divorce as he was born out of wedlock. My father could not take it since he had been faithful to my mother for those years. Dad took full custodian of Ryan and I as we were the only two biological children that he had. I heartily felt sorry for my dad, who was evidently in love with my mother. I apologized that he lacked someone to be on his side since his grandmother had been aware of what Mum was doing but kept it a secret. All in all, this is a story for another day.

I came to appreciate my dad for standing firm and his sacrifice for us. I adapted rampantly to the culture in Glendon’s Schools upon knowing the facts. Ryan joined our school while I was turning sixteen, and we saw our bond grow stronger than it had been. I became the very protective sister in school who would sacrifice anything, anytime, for him. Due to his love for football, I helped him join the senior team and would watch him play every evening. Soccer made him travel every weekend and always kept him busy. I assumed the responsibility of a mother to him and felt he needed a mother figure, who was Melisa Jones.

After completing my senior academy at eighteen years, I joined the Universidad del Valle de Mexico for my university education. I pursued engineering psychology due to my passion for understanding human beings. My mother’s actions were a strong force behind my choice. I wanted to understand what motivates and draws someone into such behaviours. I put myself in my dad’s shoes to get a glimpse of helping people out of such messy situations. The hectic period in my teenage life impacted my career path. I was now mature and built up self-appreciation and confidence.

While in college, I bid for the position of student welfare, but I came third in the race. It was a hectic time campaigning from one group to another. I had the right strategies for my comrades, but they turned out to be mere dreams since I could not fulfil them, having been beaten in the race. Luckily, I have nominated for the position of Department Representative a position I held for one year. It was a sophomore year for me, and the best memoirs come in when I remember how I used to ditch classes. Yes, I know it was not the best thing to do, but the best memories sometimes come from the worst ideas. In the elementary school, the perfect punishment would have been cleaning the faculty room for a month.

While at university, I would spend my leisure time mountain biking through various tracks in the locality or going to see my dad and Ryan. I also came to understand and think of multiple situations that one passes through in life. Such motivated me to start counselling sessions on campus for my comrades. With time, many students drew to me for advice. Slowly I began the MeRys Counselling Company with a lot of support from my dad which to date has offered psychological assistance to thousands of people.

I graduated from Universidad del Valle de Mexico two years ago with First Class Honors. I embarked on offering counsel to institutions, agencies, organizations, and individuals. I enrolled for a Master’s Degree in Developmental Psychology. After college, I had to relocate to Argentina for work. It was not an easy task adapting to the environment with childhood memories. It called for determination, washing away the memoirs of the life we lived. I remember one chilly Sunday; we hung out with friends only to bump across my kindergarten friend. Amidst the crowd, I heard someone shout, “Pou! Pou!” just to turn and see her running towards where we were.

I am a family therapist, and I integrate knowledge of education and mental health issues. I focus on assisting families in solving problems, overcoming personal issues, and striving towards achieving positive home and school experiences. I also counsel adults individually with different life transitions, mood disorders, grief and losses, or psychological and spiritual issues. My clients include all people who would want to improve their marriages, parenting, communication, and life skills.

Amongst the youths with whom have been interacting more than other groups, anxiety disorders are the most rampant. Last year in November, I handled thirteen cases of anxiety disorders. The population is comprised of 80% females who have proven to be more susceptible to the disorder.

Challenges

Finding the right language for various individuals and groups has given me headaches in my career. I faced the problem positively and optimistically, and it will come to an end soon. I have tried improving the situation by actively being involved in more counselling sessions to gain experience. I like reading and enjoy listening to my clients narrate their stories, but occasionally I got anxious and swerved off by the emotions. I struggle with letting it not control or define my weaknesses before my clients.

Personality

I reflect varied characters depending on the situation. I know I am ambitious, generous, advise giver, protective, and thoughtful. I am also very determined, pleasantly calm, and a vigorous person. I believe in fighting until the last moment for what you desire and believe in since nothing great comes easily. My self-love motivates me to learn and succeed. I am striving to become an outstanding and successful woman in society today.

Meaning Of Life

Life to me means close pals and relatives who believe in me, and I have confidence in them as well. In my course of growing up, I experienced both joyful and depressed days in the course of growing up. I have kept several friends, and most of them are reliable. When I have sad moments, I have someone to converse with for consolation. In college, I lived a typical life that I cannot regret going back to some events. My beloved places to visit were the cinemas and hanging out for ceremonial dinners. At times, we would visit the beaches and amusement parks.

Hobbies

I have a goal of being a professional dancer and owning a notable performance in arts since I have had the dream of performing since I was in high school. I have been having an extreme interest in the parade since I was a young kid. I have participated in ten peasants so far. I am a cultural activist, and I offer opportunities to embrace and appreciate varied people. At the local level, I have assisted in keeping culture prime and in developing talents in society. I also have substantial interests in cosmetology, reading, writing poems and articles, and using leisure time with family members.

What Comes Next?

I look forward to being a nationally certified counsellor and a licensed clinical professional counsellor in Argentina after five years of experience. I am about to finalize and defend my thesis in Counselling from the University of Maine, which entails hundreds of hours of continuing education and counselling practices. I am a member of the Maine Clinical Counselors’ Association. Graduating with this degree will give a ticket to join the International Board of Counselors with which I can work anywhere in the world.

One day I was offering counseling session to the patients in Hospital de Gastroenterología “B. Udaondo” in Argentina when I came across this tall and good-looking gentleman. I had woken up feeling optimistic for the day, and a lot of chores were awaiting me to be accomplished. Apparently, it happened that he was a friend of one of the doctors in the hospital. We had mutual friends, and our friendship lasted for some months before getting to another level. We are planning to settle down in twenty-five years.

Conclusion

When I take a recap of my life, goals, and happenings, it comes out that there is a need to appreciate diversity across cultural and socioeconomic classes. I will always listen to myself and what my body and mind tell me to do. Oprah says, “There is a lesson in almost everything happening in life, and getting the lesson is how you can move forward. It is how you enrich your spirit.”