Tag Archives: me

An Introduction

26 Aug

I am Maria Mitchel and I am an unremarkable human being.  I live a fairly common life, I have no fascinating interests or talents to speak of, and, for me, spontaneity consists of waiting to plan something until the morning of.  No, it can be honestly stated that I am not here because I believe my life would be of entertainment value to a general blog-reading public, but rather because I find myself desiring an outlet through which to relay my average life story and the difficulties that come with it. Any story of merit requires character building, so I will begin with a brief, rigid analysis of my background.

I was born in the Spring of 1990 to two very loving parents, one of which happened to be in the Air Force.  This meant for me that the remainder of my dependent life would be spent under the ever-changing will of my father’s superiors.  On average it was two years between every reassignment, with some lasting a little over one year and the longest coming in at four. I perpetually found myself in the position of “new kid,” and I began to surmise the only constant was my faith and my family.  Being that they have so greatly formed who I am, I suppose it would do well to introduce them.

My father is a terrific family man, always putting us and my mother first.  He is not very tall person, but his stature is broad and strong, so much so that we have always likened him to a gorilla.  Though he is intimidating for some to behold, in truth he is a very gentle man in most regards.  This, by no means, should indicate he is lax in his career.  His life has been an amazing rags to riches story in which his hard work and amiability have earned him a great deal of respect and position.  He is a generous soul, but absolutely terrifying if he should feel any of those close to him are threatened.  He is humorous, sardonic, wise, and an amazing cook to boot.

My mother is the most patient soul I know.  She is, to her core, selfless and giving while still maintaining an astounding strength.  She is the easy laughter to my dad’s quick humor and her eyes are always alight with joy.  She made the decision to end her career when she had children to be a stay at home mom, and I cannot imagine a job more fitting for her.  Her attitude is still that idle hands are the Devil’s tools and it is nearly impossible to get her to sit down for any extended period of time. She is strong, hard-working, joyful, and loving.

My only sibling, Nichole, is only one year my senior, so we found in one another a willing playmate no matter what the situation was.  She was the rough and tumble type: always arguing any case with any who dared bring one against her.  She was the kind that from the start seemed to be a little adult and she meticulously watched over me.  She remains a stubborn individual, and I find myself having great difficulty understanding her at times, but I know that her heart is golden and that she would do anything for me if I needed her.  Random acts of kindness are a big strength of hers, and she constantly surprises me with kind words or thoughtful gifts.  She was the scholar from birth it seemed, quiet and intelligent all through school and determined to never be outdone.

I was always very much the opposite: a free-spirited peacemaker who would roll with any punches if it meant keeping everyone around me happy.  Humor was my shield and companion and it was rare to never I could be found without a huge smile on my face.  I had an airy affect and few worries, so it came as a great surprise to my parents when I reached middle school that I was labeled as an excellent student by my teachers.  I have a passion for animals, I have always been able to get along well with them and make them behave.  I delight in the arts: painting, drawing, sewing, and baking new projects all the time.  My ability to learn and retain music has always been remarkable, though my singing voice was quite another story.  In all, I am a normal girl with normal hobbies and interests and little else to speak of.

With introductions out of the way, I am now pressed to find a position in which to begin my story.  I will spare you the details of my infancy or early childhood and begin in third grade.  We had just moved to Florida from Turkey, I was readjusting to being in the States and overjoyed to be close to my extended family again.  At the time I had little worries, I did not notice how I was always “it” in the games of tag or how sometimes I’d find myself gasping at night.  It was not until later, when I stopped breathing entirely, that my life changed.  I was diagnosed with a severe case of asthma.  The remedy was albuterol and a strong steroid, the latter of which had the despicable side effect of a sudden gain in weight.  My Grandmother began to make comments in the guise of jokes.  She would pinch at my fat as I walked by or allow Nichole to eat anything and hand me healthier alternatives.  My confidence began to sink.  When we left Florida a year later, I had some idea that things were about to get much harder.

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