Rachel Dolezal

Professor Williams

College Writing

8 February 2020

Narrative of a Persuasive Moment

I am the 4th out of 5 kids. My other 4 siblings are boys, so although I got attention for

being the only girl, I became very self sufficient. I’ve understood from a young age that I can’t

have the attention all the time, especially with 6 other people, a cat, and a dog in the house. A

couple of my older brothers were also not making the best decisions, and my parents had to be

on them, so I felt it was my job to make things easier on them. I made it up to them by being an

easy kid. After my younger brother was born, I was practically his second mother. It wasn’t

necessary for that to occur, but I wanted to help. I was developing anxiety because I wanted to be

extra careful in handling him. I persuaded myself that it was my job to help people who needed

it.

Our story starts on the eighth grade National Honors Junior Society trip to Washington

D.C. We had 3 large busses of students, and it was almost midnight. At a gas station, while my

friend and I were in the bathroom, rumors of a student were spreading. After we were all settled

to continue the drive, the 8th grade principal announced the rumors were true. A student we all

knew killed herself. No one knew how to react, but everyone was filled with shock and a range of

emotions. I couldn't sleep, it was too cold and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was the

beginning of the trip, and all I could think about was Courtney. I didn’t know her at all, but all I

could think about was her family and friends in mourning. During the trip, I pretended that it

hadn’t happened. When I got home after the long weekend, it finally hit me and I saw the effect
on the school’s morale. It was my first experience with depression. I’m thankful that I had very

supportive and loving parents which instilled a passion to help hurting others in a different way.

Now I’m having my first high school choir concert in ninth grade. My friend Ilsa and I

went to the bathroom, and as we were washing our hands, I noticed small scars on the inside of

her wrist. My energy changed completely, I had never seen self-harm in person. I didn’t know

what to do. I texted her that night and our friendship was more than just being choir mates and

academic buddies. We had each other to lean on and express dark thoughts. We had confided to

each other about developing depression and anxiety. We persuaded each other to stick around for

one another.

By this time next year, Ilsa and I had both gotten worse. She told me of her emotionally

abusive alcoholic father and I had started therapy after cutting myself for the first time because

of loneliness. Ilsa always expressed to me that I should never tell anyone about what she and her

father have done. Little did she know, I was very close to my mom and told her almost

everything Ilsa told me, because it was always a lot, and I couldn’t even properly take care of

myself yet. After hearing about Ilsa’s dad, my mom contacted my aunt, our grade’s counselor, to

double check on Ilsa. When they met together, Ilsa said nothing. She just sat in silence while my

aunt tried to talk to her about the situation. Ilsa was mad at me, even though it was simply for her

well being. This happened at the beginning of that year, and we had gotten over it. But she was

called to my aunt’s office again, and my aunt asked if she had been hurting herself. I had known

that she was, but I wasn’t talking to my mom or aunt about it. I tried to explain that to her, but

she refused to believe me, called me a liar, and ignored me. We had a class together and she

wouldn’t even look at me. I felt destroyed. I knew I was in the clear, but nothing I said helped

the situation. It really affected me, my parents tried to explain that it was her who was in the
wrong. She hadn’t trusted me, even though I had come clear the first time this had happened,

why wouldn't I do so again? It took a couple months before things were back to normal, and then

she told me that while she was talking bad about me at lunch, one of her friends suggested it

might not have been me. Ilsa then pressed that friend and it turned out it was her. I felt

conflicted. I knew I was right and now Ilsa knew it too, so I was happy, but I started to feel

cheated because trust was no longer there.

Eleventh grade started and I understood that I didn’t have to bend over backwards for

every friend. Or at least, I thought I did. The challenges I faced lead to me taking twenty Advil

on the last day of the first semester. I broke down to my first period teacher and was sent to my

nurse’s office. My mom was called, my aunt came in to try and understand why I did what I did,

and I didn’t quite understand either. My mom came with tears in her eyes, and again tried to

understand why I did what I did. I wasn’t affected physically at all, which was very fortunate

since I had taken a day’s worth of Advil. I realized that I had taken too much upon myself, other

people’s issues and I just wanted a break from everything. School, friends, family. I wanted to be

in a hospital, away from all of the stress. My parents and I decided that I needed to be

homeschooled for the rest of my junior year to rejuvenate myself, and better understand how to

take care of myself.

When I decided to finish my high school career at an actual school, I knew I wanted to

make the most of it. I was heading into twelfth grade with the mentality that I didn’t have to be

nice to everyone, but I was going to, which lead me to yet again, doing anything for people who

wouldn’t do the same. Yet as I went through the year, persuading myself that I needed more

attention from myself than these others who just wanted someone else’s approval. I made friends
with someone who showed me what friends are really supposed to be like, how they're supposed

to treat one another, I will forever be grateful for that.

As I begin my second semester of college, I have become a normal person with my olive

branches. I have learned that I can have a backbone and do things that I want to do, and not do

things that I don’t want to do. The obligation I put on myself to serve others, within school,

friendships, and just existing. It’s a decision to do those things, people decide whether or not

they want to be a good student. Ilsa texted me half way through the first semester, asking to talk

on the phone. For the first time ever with her, I was able to do what I wanted to do. I didn’t

respond. That may seem like a rude thing to do, but she had manipulated me for so long, I

couldn’t even risk going back into the cycle of being someone’s punching bag. I needed my

peace and sanity. It turned from me persuading someone to take care of themself, to persuading

myself that I deserve better.