Personal Narrative: The Big Day

Today was the day. The big day. My election for Lieutenant Governor of Division 2B for Key Club, an international service club, was today. Fear and anxiety pricked my skin in rapid movements emanating from every pore. I rehearsed my speech for the fifth time that day. Upon arrival at the Fairfax Library, I urged myself to remain calm. I quickly scouted out the other girls who were present; one girl was dressed professionally with a folder in her hand. I knew that was my competition. The girl spoke eloquently and genially, she radiated enthusiasm and a certain warmth that I did not have. With every question that was asked, she answered with a smooth smile and high-pitched tone that was dripping with sincerity. I bristled inside; I had just been slapped. I was shrouded in a cloud of anxiety and anxiousness. Suddenly, I was dragged from my reverie.
Inhale, exhale. It was finally my turn. My anxiety returned full force; I tried my best to level my hands and prevent them from shaking like a broken washing machine. I sailed through my speech, searching for a modicum of civility whilst emphasizing my experience and skills. My voice was laced with anxiety. The rancorous, unwanted outburst of an alarm disrupts my speech and I know it’s time for the
question and answer part. With every question I was asked, I looked the person straight in the eye mentally begging them to understand just how much I wanted this position. My hands made rapid fiery movements as I discussed my plans to improve the division. The atmosphere was electrifying, the anticipation of the people in the room was palpable. When the votes were counted and the zone administrator walked to the front of the room, her face betraying nothing, I had chicken pox all over my body. With a slight tilt of her head, she announced my name and everything inside of me jumped with a sense of pure elation. Sweet joy slowly unraveled like a flower blooming in mid-daylight. I did it!
I walked out of the Fairfax Library that day ten feet taller, with my chin up wearing the professional suit that was featured in Bloomberg magazine.
My inner goddess was brimming with pride. This election was Kristi Yamaguchi’s gold medal. I bore on my shoulders ten Key Clubs in my division. Everywhere I went, I was reminded of my responsibility to fulfill my duty: “Did I tell my clubs that monthly reports are due on the 5th yet? Nope, got to send an email about that.” The notes and reminders app on my phone was in frequent use. In the hallways at school, I strode independently with an aura of self-assurance and maturity echoed in every step. I had a job to lead the clubs in my division and represent the Key Clubs in my
community.
My inbox was filled with emails from adults about financial reports and events to promote. My emails were no longer sent to friends with trivial messages but inquiries about potential fundraisers to raise money for Eliminate; Key Club International’s project to eradicate maternal and neonatal tetanus around the world. My newfound sense of maturity was a revelation to myself and the community. At events that I volunteered at, I conducted myself with politeness my childhood self had not witnessed. As an adult would manage their annual taxes, I managed my duties as Lieutenant Governor. With every email I sent to club advisors and officers, I was overcome with the clarity of my entrance to adulthood as a leader in my community. My election was the moment I knew right then and there that I had experienced an epiphany.