Write a autobiography on your life story 400 words
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I’ve always had a bubbly, happy personality. I love fashion and R&B music, having cookouts with my family and shopping—like any other girl, I love a good discount.
I'd always been a peaceful person, but you wouldn't have known that if you'd met me in 2011, just before I was sent to jail after getting into an altercation with a neighbor over a parking spot.
My family didn’t know what to think, and neither did I. I’d never been in trouble before. They knew it wasn’t the real me.
In 2007, I was 23 and attending college, while also working in a restaurant. I was one of the best servers; I didn’t even need a notepad to take down people’s orders.
But at the end of 2008, I started experiencing strange symptoms. I began feeling paranoid. I started seeing things, and hearing voices. I didn’t want to get dressed or even get out of bed. I didn’t understand what was going on.
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By July of 2009, I was hospitalized. The doctors there thought I had a mood disorder—they thought maybe I was bipolar—and put me on a number of medications. But once I got out of the hospital, I stopped taking them. My symptoms were gone, so I assumed I’d be fine.
i was no longer taking classes, but later that summer, I was feeling well enough to get a job doing work like painting buildings at a camp.
Still, the memory of those strange symptoms lingered in my mind. In April 2010, when the symptoms returned and I began feeling paranoid again, my family convinced me to check myself into a psychiatric hospital.
The doctors there still thought I had a mood disorder because I didn’t tell them about my paranoia, or about suddenly hearing voices in my head. Instead, I would talk to them and just be me—happy, outgoing—so they thought I was having a manic episode.
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They started me on some new medication, but when I was discharged four months later, I noticed that I was having side effects, like twitching. I wanted to go back to work as a server, but you can’t carry trays in a restaurant when you’re twitching! So I stopped taking my meds again.
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Autobiography is not the story of a life; it is the recreation or the discovery of one. In writing of one's experience, you will discover yourself, and in the writing create the pattern you seem to have lived. Often, of course, autobiography is merely a collection of well-rehearsed anecdotes; but, intelligently written, it is the revelation, to the reader and the writer, of the writer's conception of the life he or she has lived. Simply put, autobiography is a reckoning. This page will helps you shape a diverse and colorful assortment of personal vignettes and stories about your being into a graceful, coherent narrative that conveys the larger story of your life.