essay for the day i will never forget

Essay on the Day I will never Forget in My Life

Our life is a mixture of good and bad experiences. I think there must be something in everyone’s lives that is unforgettable. It can be either a good one or a bad one. This experience never gets deleted from our memories and remains alive throughout our life. It can also be a life-changing event for many of us. I am sure that every one of you would have a day or memorable event in your life that is difficult to forget. I also have few such memories in my mind but one among them is something that I can never forget in my life.

Short and Long Essay on The Day I will never Forget in My Life in English

10 lines essay on the day i will never forget in my life (100 – 120 words).

1) Some days either happy or sad leave a lifelong impression on our minds.

2) The day I will never forget in my life was when I left the city where I was born.

3) My father was transferred to a different city.

4) I was very sad on that day to leave my house.

5) The last goodbye to my friends was very painful.

6) I missed everyone very much along the way.

7) The feeling of seeing this surrounding for the last time made me sad.

8) I didn’t even take lunch that day.

9) I cried very much and asked my parents not to leave the place.

10) By remembering that day I still become sad.

Essay 1 (250 Words)

Introduction

Life is full of different types of experiences. Everyday passing in our life is not the same. Moreover, is not possible for us to remember every day of our life but there are days or moments of life that are memorable. It is not easy for us to forget that day or the event. The happening of any beautiful or sad event makes that day to be unforgettable from our memories.

The day could be a life-changing moment

There are special moments in everyone’s life. These moments make the day to be the one that we could never forget in our life. These moments could be a bad or good experience. These moments are life-changing moments in the life of many people. We have heard people saying that this incident changed my life totally. It could be something good like getting success, being awarded, finding love, marriage, or bad like death, accident, getting to know about some incurable disease, etc. The reason can be many but the effect of that incident is long-lasting and that day cannot be wiped out from our memory easily.

Complete lockdown due to the outbreak of covid-19 – A day that I could never forget

The days were passing and we were busy in the preparation of the festival of Holi in March 2020. Suddenly there was news shown on the television that state lockdown has been imposed for two days. Later this lockdown was converted into a nationwide lockdown on 25th March 2020. I never had experienced the lockdown before this happened. Everything was stopped in a moment and this kind of situation has never happened before. Therefore this day became an everlasting memory in the life of many people among us.

We cannot go back to the past and live any moment that we want. The memories of these days help us in remembering the same and making that moment alive for us.

I have provided the experience of the never forgetting day of my life in the form of a long essay below. I think it might give you an idea about writing an essay on this topic.

Essay 2 (950 Words) – Unforgettable Moment in My Life Essay

Days and times fly by so fast. Every day in our life is not alike. If we think about our past days it is not easy for us to remember every past day. There are some days that we cannot forget easily and it becomes an everlasting memory for us. We either get excited or depressed when we remind ourselves of the everlasting event of life. It depends upon our experience.

What is an Unforgettable Memory?

I hope nobody in this world has ever thought that any normal day will become an everlasting memory for them. This is such a moment of our life that remains in our memories till we are alive. It can be a good or bad memory. If it is a happy memory we want it to be continued throughout our life ever while if it is sad we never want it to happen again in our life. In both cases, the event becomes unforgettable for us. When we ever face the question about explaining a day that we can never forget, this is the event that first comes to our mind.

My Experiences: Unforgettable Days in My Life

I want to share with you the memories of a day that I can never forget in my life. I really wish this didn’t happen to anyone else in this world. I really become sad whenever I recall the incident. It was a normal day like other days in routine life. I woke up early in the morning and was ready to go to school. Everything went in an easy way as usual. My classes were over and after spending some time with my friends I returned back to my home. I did not go to the coaching classes on that day as I was a little tired and was not feeling well.

In the evening, I was having tea-time with my family. Suddenly someone knocked on my door. She was an aunt in my neighborhood. She told me that one of your school students has committed suicide and the case has come under my husband’s supervision for the postmortem. I was a little sad after hearing this news but continued my activities further.

The Shocking News – There was a phone call on my father’s mobile phone at that time as I was not having my personal mobile phone. I was shocked by what I heard. The student that had committed suicide was none other than my best friend. I really could not understand what to do at that time. Even I could never believe what I heard. Every time I remembered about the afternoon time that we spent together. I never thought that this was the last time I was meeting with her. I could not cry at that moment as I was shocked after hearing this news. I was not having the courage to visit her house or see the dead body. Since it was suicide it became a police case. We have been questioned two or three times in our school premises by the police officers in the investigation of the case.

Later it was confirmed that she was suffering from depression. I knew about this but never thought that she would take the decision of ending her life. She was a meritorious student in the school. There was one day holiday as condolence for her soul. Not only that day but the whole month has been very bad for me. I could not sleep peacefully for many nights.

My friend committed suicide just before one day of her birthday. I was very depressed and sad because I lost her and at the same time was very angry also. I never thought of her to be such a coward to commit suicide. Later I tried to console myself by the thought that it was destiny and could never be changed.

Effects of that Day in My Life – It is because of that day in my life I never tried to make anybody my best friend in my life. It is because everything happened suddenly and I was shocked from inside. Moreover, a fear of losing someone precious from my life has developed in my mind from that day. I think I cannot give her place to anyone in my life. She is still and always will be with me in my memories. I find it very hard to remove the memories of this day in my life.

Are Unforgettable Memories Special for Us?

Man is the most blessed form of the creation of god on this earth. It is because we have been provided with the brain that has a memorizing capacity. The event that we remember becomes happy or sad memories for us. The memories are always special either it is happy or sad because it makes us think about our past events of life. It may happen that some of them would cherish us with a smile and some may bring tears to our eyes. The most important thing is that it connects us with our past events and people that had lived in our previous life experiences and thus these memories are special for us.

The death day of my best friend is a never forgetting memory in my life to date. I cannot forget this because this happened suddenly. This is the day when I realized the value of a friend especially a best friend in my life. I hope that she would be happy wherever she is now and god may give a lot of courage to her parents to endure this loss and pain.

FAQs: Frequently Asked Questions

Ans . It is the diary of past experiences of life.

Ans . It is because they have perceived perfectly by our senses.

Ans . The memories while sleeping gets more powered and stable in our mind.

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Narrative Essay on The Day I never forget

There are moments in life that leave an indelible mark on our hearts and minds, shaping us into who we are. These experiences, often unexpected, can change our perspective, teach us valuable lessons, or simply remind us of the beauty and fragility of life. One such day that I will never forget occurred during the summer before my final year of high school, a day that started like any other but ended up teaching me about courage, loss, and the power of community.

The Morning Calm

The day began with the usual tranquility of a summer morning. The sun’s golden rays gently pierced through my window, casting a warm glow across my room. Birds chirped harmoniously, creating a melody that signaled the start of a new day. I woke up feeling refreshed and eager to enjoy my day off from school and part-time job responsibilities. Little did I know, this day would be far from ordinary.

The Unexpected Call

As I was enjoying my breakfast, the phone rang, shattering the morning’s peace. It was my friend Alex, whose voice trembled with urgency. “There’s a huge fire at the community center!” he exclaimed. My heart skipped a beat. The community center was not just a building; it was the heart of our small town, a place where people of all ages came together for various activities and support. Without a second thought, I told Alex I would meet him there.

The Scene at the Community Center

Arriving at the community center, I was met with a scene of chaos and desperation. Thick plumes of smoke billowed into the sky, and flames devoured the structure that had stood as a beacon of unity in our community. Firefighters battled the blaze, but the fire’s ferocity was overwhelming. Community members gathered, many in tears, as they watched decades of memories turn to ash.

Joining the Effort

Despite the despair that hung heavy in the air, there was a sense of unity among the onlookers. People started organizing, offering whatever help they could. I joined a group of volunteers helping to move equipment and salvageable items from the parts of the building not yet engulfed by flames. The heat was intense, and the smoke made it difficult to see and breathe, but the collective determination to save what we could, fueled our efforts.

A Lesson in Courage and Loss

As the day wore on, the reality of the situation sank in. The fire, sparked by an electrical fault, had consumed much of the community center. The loss was not just physical; it was emotional. Programs for children, support groups for the elderly, and spaces for community gatherings were gone. Yet, amid the loss, there was courage. The bravery of the firefighters, risking their lives to contain the fire, and the resilience of the community, coming together in the face of adversity, taught me about the strength of the human spirit.

The Power of Community

In the days that followed, the true power of community became evident. Fundraisers were organized, and plans were made to rebuild the community center. People from all walks of life contributed in whatever way they could, showing that the spirit of our community was not lost but strengthened by the tragedy. This collective effort highlighted the importance of community support and resilience.

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50, 250 & 400 Words Essay on A Day I Will Never Forget In English

Table of Contents

Introduction

The experiences we have in life are a mix of positive and bad. Almost everyone has something unforgettable in their lives. There are two types of bad ones: good ones and bad ones. No matter how long we live, this experience will never be forgotten. The event can also change our lives forever. There must be at least one memorable day or event in every person’s life that they can never forget. It is one of the memories I will never be able to forget in my life too.

50 Words Essay on A Day I Will Never Forget In English

 There are some days that remain in our minds forever, whether they are happy or sad. The day I left the city where I was born will always be etched in my memory. A new city was assigned to my father. The day I had to leave my house was a very sad day for me.

Leaving my friends for the last time was a very painful experience. It was very hard to say goodbye to everyone along the way. This was my last time seeing these surroundings, and I felt sad. My lunch was the only thing I ate that day. It was very hard for me to find words to describe how much I cried and begged my parents not to leave. I still feel sad when I remember that day.

250 Words Essay on A Day I Will Never Forget In English

Sunny and hot weather greeted us that day. My mother called me inside to eat something while I was lying on my back in the front yard. I heard my mother gently call out, “Come, take a bite of this sandwich or two,” as she gently beckoned me to take a bite.

In general, I was a bit of an uncontrollable child when I was growing up, or perhaps you could say naughty. My response was to pretend that I wasn’t aware of what she said. She just said: “Okay, then.” as she is a clever mother. You’ll need to buy bread, I think. The way she said it this time wasn’t so gentle. Due to my failure to respond when I was called, I received this punishment.

Thus, I hurriedly went inside. Unfortunately, it was too late. My mother already had the money in her hands. Her grin spread across her face as she said: “Better now than later when you get hungry…” I began to frown, saying: “Hayi, hayi, hayi, mama!” This means: “No, no, no, mama!”.

The wonderful grin on my mother’s face turned into a huge, horrible frown! Her voice was the most horrendous I’ve ever heard. The way she spoke to me sounded like a lion roaring at its prey: “Amanda, don’t test or I will…”.

In fact, I ran out of the door before she could finish her sentence. I was crossing the street in a hurry when a car slammed into me out of nowhere. The driver asked with concern. “Are you all right?” the driver asked concernedly. The car hit me like a bull tackling a matador in a bullfight, and I’m not sure if those were his exact words.

It had taken me a long time to realize what had happened because I had run like a horse all the way home. This incident has never been brought up with my mother. I found it strange that all my mother noticed was that I wasn’t hungry anymore. The only thing she said was: “Did you eat from this bread, little one? It made us both laugh. My memories of this day will last a lifetime.

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400 Words Essay on A Day I Will Never Forget In English

It was a happy childhood for me, thanks to my loving parents and the big brown house my parents lived in. A big brown house and two loving parents made me a happy child. I used to spend hours playing hide-and-seek or tagging with my friends in my backyard during the summer. As children, we would pretend to be explorers searching for old treasures or knights battling evil dragons to save princesses.

A brown and white trim was also seen on the house next door. We felt like we were in an enchanted forest with its huge trees shading our backyard. The snow that accumulated at the edge of our yards in the winter would be used to make snowmen. In the end, we made angels by piling all our clothes on top of one another instead of making snowmen out of them.

Laughter echoed off the walls as I ran up and down the stairs. I used to play this game with my sister. Running up and down the stairs was a game we would take turns playing. It was a race between the bottom and top to see who could catch the other. Getting caught meant going up and down again.

During our daily activities, we never paid attention to how much energy we used or how it affected our hearts, lungs, and muscles. It just seemed like fun to us. When he was a boy, my dad used to tell me stories. Sitting there and listening to him tell me stories from his childhood, I would hear stories about my dad as a boy.

Whenever he talked about fishing with his friends, he’d tell me about it. At times, they caught something, but at other times, they had nothing to show for their efforts. Whenever he spoke too much at school, he got into trouble, and if the teacher saw him chewing gum in class, he got into even more trouble.

The stories he told always made me laugh. His life had never been better. One of the most memorable days of my life. His life was at its best during that time. It will always be a memorable day for me. Looking up at him from the front row, I was in the front row. When he said, “This is the best day of my whole life,” he looked directly at me.

Conclusion,

A moment cannot be relived in the past. Remembering these days helps us make those moments alive for us and keep them alive in our minds.

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250-300 Word Essay On The Day I Will Never Forget.

One can never predict when or where life will take an unexpected turn. Such was the case on the day that I will never forget – January 24, 2023. This was an ordinary day, like any other, until an unforeseen occurrence altered the trajectory of my life forever.

Table of Contents

Essay: The Unforgettable Day – A Life-Changing Experience

The unfortunate event.

Early that morning, I rushed to work to make up for lost time. The morning sun was just beginning to rise, and the bustling city was slowly waking up. Amid this routine morning, an unexpected phone call led me down an unforeseen path.

The Accident

As I attended to my ringing phone, I failed to notice the car ahead of me coming to a halt. Before I could realize it, I had slammed into the vehicle’s rear. The shock of the impact was a jarring experience. Luckily, it was a minor accident, and no one was injured. But, the sight of the damaged cars and the sound of screeching tires had left a lasting imprint on my mind.

The Aftermath and Impact

The aftermath of the accident left me quite shaken. The experience was a stark reminder of how life is filled with unexpected twists and turns. Realizing the potential consequences of my distractions while driving was an eye-opener. This incident indeed highlighted the importance of responsibility and attentiveness on the road.

Lessons Learned

This unforgettable incident provided me with several valuable lessons about life and responsibility. Firstly, I learned the hard way about the dangers of distraction, especially while driving. This accident emphasized the importance of not using my phone on the road. Secondly, it reminded me of the significance of patience, caution, and the value of life.

Pondering on Life and Gratitude

Finally, this incident, more than anything, taught me to appreciate life more and to be grateful for every moment. It made me realize that every day is a gift and every moment is precious.

The day I will never forget is a testament to how a single event can profoundly impact our lives, shaping our perspective and teaching us invaluable lessons. It was a wake-up call, prompting me to become more responsible and mindful, particularly when behind the wheel. This incident, as unforgettable as it is, has fundamentally changed me for the better, making me more aware of the preciousness of life and the importance of responsibility. Indeed, it was a day that left an indelible mark on my life.

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Home — Essay Samples — Life — Moment — A Memory That I Will Never Forget

A Memory that I Will Never Forget

• Categories: Moment Personal Life

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Words: 625 |

Published: Sep 16, 2023

Words: 625 | Page: 1 | 4 min read

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The setting, the journey, the encounter.

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• Essay on Sports

A Day I Will Never Forget Essay

Type of paper: Essay

Topic: Sports , Family , Education , Water , Town , Skin , Humor , Energy

Published: 12/31/2019

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In preparing this short talk I worked out that I had spent over 17,000 days on the planet, but this is the story of the one day I will never ever forget. It was mid-July and the sky just after dawn was that pale duck egg blue with not a single cloud in sight which promised a perfect Midwest day: by afternoon that pale blue would change to a deeper almost turquoise hue and the perfect weather matched my perfect mood. I had just graduated from high school, had a part-time job at the local A& P and on this particular Saturday I had plans which matched the weather in their perfection. My father was celebrating his 50th birthday and that afternoon and evening, and we were having a huge family barbecue to celebrate: great uncles, great aunts, and uncles, and aunts, and cousins I'd not seen in years – they had arrived the night before and were sleeping all over our house, in tents in the garden, in sleeping bags in our summer house. But that was not the main source of my joy on that perfect summer morning. That evening I was taking Tanya Eriksson to the county fair, and it was from a dream of Tania that I woke just after dawn to find the big brown imploring eyes of my English springer spaniel Zippy staring into mine. He didn't normally sleep with me but the chaos caused by the gathering of the family clan meant that the ordinary rules of daily life had been suspended for the weekend. Without thinking, buoyed up by my glance outside at the sky and all the anticipated pleasure of the next 24 hours, I got straight out of bed, crept as quietly as I could through the sleeping house with Zippy in my wake full of purposefulness and energy – the kind of energy that you have when you know that you're taking Tania Eriksson to the county fair. In my eyes Tanya was the model, the zenith of female beauty: long red hair, piercing blue eyes, skin as pale as the moon, slim as a birch and with the most tantalising laugh of any woman I've ever known – before or since. Her face was often expressionless, but I could make her laugh, or at least I could in that perfect summer in the past. When she laughed, her eyes would light up, the soft skin around her eyes would wrinkle, the corners of her mouth would turn up, and I could only see a future in which my career, my vacation, my calling was to make Tanya laugh. I went to the kitchen and quickly downed a cup of coffee, Zippy happily following my every move. I had already decided on perfect start to this perfect day. I took the keys to my mother's Nissan and strolled down the driveway. I was going swimming with Zippy in the irrigation canal just out of town on the other side. It's a funny sensation when you drive through your home town early in the morning when most people are asleep. I liked it. I drove past the houses of friends from high school, the houses of friends of my parents, houses of teachers who taught me: I thought of them all safely asleep security of their hands. Many of them of course I would see later that day – either at father's party or a county fair. As I passed the gas station, old Rick raised his right arm in a kind of informal salute to Zippy and me. The canal was perfect for swimming: deep enough to dive into and with little danger from weeds and watery undergrowth, since it was routinely dredged and kept clean. I’d been fishing and swimming in this canal since I was 8. I guess I looked upon it as my canal – but then may be everyone in town did. Zippy, being Zippy, plunged headlong into the water, raising a stream of splash into the air. I dived in and front crawled to the other side in a burst of energy and joy. The water was cold, of course, but with my head and chest above the water the sun was already warm enough to make the swim invigorating and cleansing. It had the feel of a new baptism to match this perfect day. I splashed water at Zippy who seemed simply happy to be alive. But then I became aware of something strange. At the edge of the canal my feet were half-balanced on the rough concrete blocks that had been sunk into the earth sides of the canal to prevent erosion, but I slowly became aware of something softer, something more malleable beneath my feet. I pushed myself away from the bank to give myself room to dive down and investigate. I dove into the murky water, my hands groping downwards and touched – a human body. Using all my strength I hauled and heaved whoever it was to the surface. And then my perfect day was annihilated as I found myself looking at Tanya’s long red hair, the pale refection of her skin and her lips now tainted by the faint blue of death. I never made it to the county fair.

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A day I'll never forget

The day was hot and sunny. I was lying in the front yard on my back when my mother called me inside to have something to eat.

“Come, my darling, and take a piece of a sandwich or two,” my mother gently called.

But, I was always a bit of an uncontrollable child – or might I say, a naughty child – when I was growing up. So I pretended that I didn’t hear her. As my mother is a clever mom, she just said: “Okay then. I think that you are going to have to go and buy bread. This time she didn’t say it so gently. This was punishment for not responding when I was called.

So, I quickly went inside. But, it was too little too late. The money was already in my mother’s hands. With a grin on her face, she said: “Better now than when you start to get hungry…”

I started to frown, saying, “Hayi, hayi, hayi, mama!” That is: “No, no, no, mama” in isiXhosa.

My mother’s wonderful grin turned to a frown – a big horrible frown! She spoke in the most horrible voice – I think she sounded like a lion roaring at its prey – letting me know clearly: “Amanda, don’t test or I will…”

Before she even finished her sentence, I ran out of the door, heading straight for the shop.

When I was crossing the road in a hurry, a car came out of the blue and knocked me out.

“Are you OK?” the driver asked with concern. I’m still not sure if those were his exact words because I was dizzy from the car hitting me like a bull tackling the matador in a bull fight.

By the time I realised what had happened, I had run so fast – like a horse in the Durban July – all the way home.

Until this day, I’ve never told my mother about this incident. How strange it is that all my mother noticed was that I was not hungry anymore.

She only said: “What, did you eat from this bread, little child?” I laughed, she laughed.

I will never forget this day.

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A Day I'll Never Forget

Assessment model print, okay personal narrative.

This personal narrative tells about a day on the lake.

Title: A Day I'll Never Forget

Level: Grade 6, Grade 7, Grade 8

Mode: Narrative Writing

Form: Personal Narrative

Completed Rubric: A Day I'll Never Forget Rubric

Blank Rubric: Narrative Rubric

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A day i’ll never forget.

It was cloudy, cool, and rainy when we started up the engine of the boat. Mr. Jones drove while Mrs. Jones, Alysa, and I sat watching the grayish waves of the lake bounce the boat. We arrived at our destination and Alysa and I got the tube ready and put it in the water.

Alysa got in first, Mr. Jones started the engine and took off, as fast as he could go, through the water. Alysa started going sideways through the waves, she had a lack of pain on her face. she let go, then flew into the waves with a splash.

Now it was my turn. I had never been tubing before and I was not scared, but I felt a little shaky. Soon I was going very fast and my legs started hurting, because they were skiming the water so fast. After a short time I let go, because my arms hurt. I hit the water very hard, but it was so fun.

I got good enough for us both to go on the tube together. Mr. Jones started the engine. Alysa and I hung on for dear life. We were on for a while, but a big boat made waves. We fell over, so we got in the boat and headed for home.

I was sad to see it end, but I would do it again, very soon!

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Letter to the editor: Holiest day of year marred by 'Transgender Day' designation

March 31, Easter Sunday, was a day I will never forget. Easter, the most significant day on the Christian calendar, a day when the Christian Church around the world celebrates the resurrection of Jesus Christ, was proclaimed the holiest of holy days over 1,800 years ago.

On March 29, two days prior to this holiest day, President Joe Biden, a proud Roman Catholic, made the following proclamation, “NOW, THEREFORE, I, JOSEPH R. BIDEN JR., President of the United States of America, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Constitution and the laws of the United States, do hereby proclaim March 31, 2024, as Transgender Day of Visibility.” It should be noted that he has issued the same proclamation before and that people started recognizing Transgender Day of Visibility annually on March 31 since at least 2010.

The same day, I visited a friend in the hospital and had to show my driver’s license, of which a photograph was taken and imprinted on a badge that I had to wear while in the hospital. I then walked through a metal detector, and my suspenders set the machine off. I then underwent a body scan by two security guards. I wish we had the same criteria at our southern border for all the illegal immigrant invaders.

That evening, we had dinner at our home for family and celebrated the baptism of our youngest granddaughter.

Joseph Krill

Murrysville

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• Health Care

The Menstrual Mood Disorder You’ve Never Heard About

E ver since she was a teenager, Tanya knew her mood swings were a problem. She had periodic bouts of anger and depression that left her wanting to die. Her life was a roller coaster of highs and lows but doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Five years ago, she decided she’d had enough. She wanted to end her life.

Tanya managed to talk herself out of it and instead did some googling. She stumbled across a website about premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD), a menstrual mood disorder, that impacts roughly 3 to 8% of menstruators. PMDD means having severe and debilitating mood swings right around one’s period. Around a third of people with PMDD have attempted suicide, and over  70% have regular suicidal ideation .

“It just hit me,” Tanya told me. “I went through my life and so many moments made sense.” She called her doctor the next day. He sent her to get tested for diabetes.

Tanya finally managed to get a PMDD diagnosis in 2019 at the age of 26, but she was haunted by the question: Why had she never heard of PMDD before and why was it so hard to get a diagnosis?

Although research shows suicidal ideation is linked to specific times during the menstrual cycle, today most people still haven’t heard of PMDD, including doctors. According to a 2022 survey of PMDD patients, over a third said their general practitioners had no knowledge of premenstrual disorders, and about 40% said their mental-health-care providers had no knowledge of premenstrual disorders. But PMDD has been around since periods have been around and we’ve known about it for nearly a century.

So why aren’t we getting people the help they need? The answer, as history shows, is more complicated than we think.

While the menstrual cycle has been notoriously understudied, the first papers on PMDD appeared in 1930s. In the 1950s British physician Dr. Katrina Dalton began studying PMDD —or “premenstrual syndrome” as she called it, and opened a clinic in London . Still, PMDD mostly flew under the radar until 1980, when Dalton served as a medical expert for three women accused of crime. During the trials Dalton showed that the women committed the crimes right before their period, and that their symptoms disappeared with treatment. She was able to get them a reduced sentence.

Overnight there was a media boom around PMS. The magazine Glamour even polled readers about the validity of using PMS as a legal defense: (24% were for, 71% against, and 5% unsure). As a result, the growing awareness around PMS bled over to the medical community. In 1984 psychiatrist Robert Spitzer proposed PMS should be added to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM), the handbook used by doctors to diagnosis mental health problems. Spitzer was the chair of the committee revising the third version of the DSM, and he’d been getting several invites to conferences about PMS. Adding PMS to the DSM meant that the medical community was recognizing it as a formal disorder that could be diagnosed and treated.

Read More: 5 Foods That Ease PMS Symptoms

However, experts were divided on where to draw the line between PMDD (the severe, debilitating mood swings) and PMS (garden variety grumpiness and irritability). When the Washington Post asked experts about the prevalence of PMS in 1984, estimates ranged from 3% to 90% of women . In a sense, both of these estimates were true: only a few people have severe symptoms, but up to 90% of people do have mild symptoms before their period. It became clear that experts were conflating PMDD and PMS and this was reflected in popular culture. Suddenly, anyone who had a period was seen as unstable. Products with sexist jokes abounded, such as greeting cards that read “What’s the difference between a woman with PMS and a terrorist? Answer: You can negotiate with a terrorist.”

Controversy erupted. A group of feminists spearheaded a campaign to stop PMDD’s inclusion in the DSM. They argued that including PMDD would be tantamount to calling menstruation a mental illness. Much of their reaction was rooted in the atmosphere of the ‘70s and ‘80s as women were fighting for gender equality on several fronts from work to reproductive rights. In the 1970s, for the first time, over half of women were working outside the home. The Supreme Court ruled to protect the right to abortion in Roe v. Wade. However, this equality was also precarious and under threat—conservatives defeated the Equal Rights Amendment which would have prohibited gender discrimination. For feminists, PMDD and the sexist jokes it generated seemed to be another attempt to discredit women and chip away at the progress feminists had made for women’s rights.

One of PMDD’s major critics, Dr. Joan Chrisler, attended a lecture in the 1970s, early on in her career on why there were no great women artists or novelists. The conclusion: women’s creativity declines when they are menstruating. This inspired Chrisler to devote her career to fighting menstrual stigma. In an era rife with sexism, adding PMDD to the DSM set off alarm bells.

Read More: A History of How Employers Have Addressed Women’s Periods

To further complicate matters, in the early 2000s, drug manufacturer Eli Lilly stuck its finger in the pie. Eli Lilly’s patent on its blockbuster drug Prozac, which treated depression, was set to expire and it’s share prices had tanked. The company desperately needed a new market that would buy Prozac.

Eli Lilly landed on PMDD as their next likely market. Early studies already suggested that Prozac could treat PMDD, but the problem was that experts were still debating whether PMDD belonged in the DSM as an official diagnosis at all. Undaunted, Eli Lilly embarked on a massive campaign to market Prozac to people with PMDD. It sponsored a round table discussion on Prozac’s effectiveness for PMDD, which found that at least 60% of patients with PMDD respond to antidepressants. It repackaged Prozac as “Serafem” a play on the word “seraphim”, the angels who guard the throne of God. If that wasn’t enough to drive home the point, they changed Prozac’s green and yellow pills to pink and purple. Finally, they rolled out a series of ads that suggested any woman who was feeling grumpy should consider medication. The ads didn’t distinguish between PMDD and PMS. Rather, they imply any sign of irritability in women should be treated.

This unleashed another wave of furor. Feminists were insulted—and rightfully so. The last thing the women’s movement needed was a drug companies suggesting a woman’s anger is a mental health condition. The media had a field day writing about drug companies “inventing” new diseases and marketing drugs without diagnoses. (Tragically, Prozac actually works on PMDD. Studies have found SSRIs like Prozac can relieve PMDD symptoms in up to twelve hours, even though it takes weeks to work for anxiety and depression.)

In some ways the feminists lost their battle. PMDD eventually did become a diagnosis in the DSM in 2013, nearly three decades after it’d been first debated in the ‘80s. In other ways, they won the war. Dr. Tory Eisenlohr-Moul, a premenstrual mood disorder researcher at the University of Illinois Chicago, estimates that the backlash around PMDD set care back by 10 to 15 years. She pointed out there’s been a chilling effect on the conversation around the link between menstruation and mood. Doctors are afraid to bring it up, because they don’t want patients to think they are sexist.

Yet, in reality, the biggest victims of the fight over PMDD’s existence are people who have PMDD and the people who love them. Today, thousands of people still suffer because they don’t know they have PMDD.

Tanya’s PMDD diagnosis changed her life. While she elected not to try medication, the diagnosis alone helped her understand her breakdowns, and helped her explain what was going on to family and friends. She decided to train in psychotherapy so she can help other people understand PMDD. “My tutor has been a counselor for 10 years and still hasn’t heard of PMDD,” she said. “I want to help people work through this pain.”

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Finished Papers

A writer who is an expert in the respective field of study will be assigned

We need a political leader who will carry us forward together — whether we’re ready or not

Elected officials must choose how they will lead through this prolonged disruption and unsettledness..

I’ll never forget the day the trains stopped running.

The low rumble at night near my bedroom window turned to silence. The traffic jams leading into downtown disappeared.

I moved from Washington, D.C., years ago with an unusual anticipation to live near a train. They are tangible expressions of the economy, moving America’s labor, goods and resources very much like our nation’s heartbeat and lifeblood. 

In D.C., the government turns the economy off and on with as much ease as a living room light dimmer. In the heart of Oklahoma City, the absence of a train in March 2020 created a sense of dread well before our hospitals were overwhelmed by COVID-19. 

Now, a few years later, the trains are picking back up steam. Instead of jumping on board eager for the next scenic stop, many Americans anxiously anticipate being crushed by them.

In anti-LGBTQ+ climate, we should not be surprised that children die by their own hands

Social distancing  delayed children’s immune systems . Classroom learning came to a halt and data is revealing the devastating impact on kids. The silence on the train tracks also meant a prolonged absence of full-time in-office jobs, regular church attendance and  constructive conflict in relationships . We are learning more every day about the consequences to economic growth, student readiness for higher education and workforce capacity.

Elected officials must choose how they will lead through this prolonged disruption and unsettledness. Or as journalist Fareed Zakaria has labeled it, “possibly the most revolutionary period in human history.”

GiANT founder, Jeremie Kubicek, reports two-thirds of the population live with a “present mindset,” which means they better respond to leaders talking about protecting and caring for their needs today, not casting a vision for tomorrow. The more rural the population, the higher the demand for a present-oriented voice. 

Judd Blevins was voted out of Enid. We never should’ve elected him to begin with.

It largely leaves a politician ― particularly in Oklahoma, dominated by rural voters ― in two camps: (1) screaming that the train is coming, stoking people’s fears to capture attention; or (2) inviting people to lay new tracks together, day by day to reclaim where this train is going. 

A Jewish proverb warns society to guard itself against the leader who takes the first approach. 

Proverbs 22:13 calls out the one who claims a lion is in the streets and death is imminent. The Scripture calls this approach “lazy” and merely a mechanism to control, putting people in a state of paralysis. It’s easy and it works. 

Strong political leadership today is looking the voter in the eyes and saying, “We’ve got this — together. Yes, the train is coming, and together we are going to determine where it is going by laying new tracks in front of us.”

Whether we are ready or not, leaders must beckon us to rebuild our economy, our systems of education, health care, and even our sense of community and culture. 

President Ronald Reagan said, “The greatest leader is not necessarily the one who does the greatest things. He is the one who gets the people to do the greatest things.” 

As we approach these elections in a post-pandemic, “revolutionary” world, may we judge today’s politicians and vote for tomorrow’s leaders not by the fears they provoke, but by their ability to bring people together to lay new tracks that take us where we need to go. 

Donelle Harder was the campaign manager for Oklahoma Gov. Kevin Stitt and is a senior vice president at Pinkston.

By Patrick Carpen: The Greatest Writer On Earth

A Day I Will Never Forget: Happy Experience

Suddenly, the telephone rang and I saw my mother pick it up. “Hello,” she said

Then there was a long moment of silence. Without saying another word, she clicked the receiver down. I looked at her through the window. There was confusion and excitement mixed in her face. I walked over quickly to her.

“Mom,” I said. “Are you OK?”

But she was as speechless as though she had seen a ghost. After about 60 seconds of deafening silence, she opened her mouth. “Get ready,” she said. Take a shower quickly! We’re going to the airport!

I had so many questions at that point, but my mother’s expression made me bottle them all up. I hurried to the shower.

By the time I was done dressing, a car pulled up. We locked the house and got in. We were headed to the airport.

On the way there, my mom told me all the exciting details of my older brother whom I  never knew I had.

He was adopted as a baby and taken to the USA. He was just one year older than I was. And his adopted parents were bringing him because he wanted to see me. As we waited on the corridor while the passengers disembarked, I wondered how I was going to recognize my brother whom I had never seen before.

Then, from among the crowd, my eyes glanced a lad who seemed just a few inches taller than I was. But his eyes were just like mine. His skin was just like mine. And so was his smile.

Suddenly, his eyes caught mine and we froze for a while. Then we ran and hugged each other.

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Tradwives, stay-at-home girlfriends and the dream of feminine leisure

It’s always inspiring when citizens of the vast and disparate internet find something to unite them, and in late March the unifying force was hatred for an essay, published in the Cut, called “ The Case for Marrying an Older Man .” It was written by a woman who had done just that: Grazie Sophia Christie spent her undergraduate years at Harvard sneaking into receptions for MBA candidates where she hoped to bag a more established male before her “fiercest advantage” — her youth — disappeared and rendered her common. After some trial and error, at the age of 20 she made off with a 30-year-old whose defining characteristics seemed to be that he was French and rich.

The essay’s alleged offenses ranged from the kind that would irritate Greta Thunberg — the casual way Christie’s byline notes that she lives in “Miami and London” — to the kind that would irritate Gloria Steinem. “I’ll never forget it,” the author writes, “how he showed me around our first place like he was introducing me to myself: This is the wine you’ll drink, where you’ll keep your clothes, we vacation here, this is the other language we’ll speak, you’ll learn it.”

Christie was taking a cosseted, retro archetype — the gold digger — and presenting it as something intellectual and liberated. She hadn’t wanted to marry a fixer-upper, she writes, citing her younger brother who still left his towels on the floor. She wanted a man that some other woman had already fixed up, and who could, in turn, fix her. Not a partner, she writes, but a “mentor.” Specifically, one who could fulfill a promise that feminism had allegedly failed to deliver: “I had grown bored of discussions of fair and unfair, equal and unequal,” writes Christie, “and preferred instead to consider a thing called ease.”

A thing called ease.

That last sentence was the only one in the whole piece that made me stop in my tracks. It was breathtaking in its transparency: I’m not doing this out of principle or based on a worldview. I’m doing this because life seemed hard and this seemed easy.

You could argue, as many did, that if your relationship is predicated on you being young, it might get considerably less easy when you age. But castigating Christie’s essay was actually the least interesting way to engage with it, because at heart it was dealing with bigger themes than even she seemed to know what to do with: the elusiveness of female contentment in the modern era. The elusiveness of rest — for everyone — in the modern era. The concept of romantic relationships as the ultimate life hack, and the resigned idea that the only way to move forward was by moving backward.

Perhaps you’ve been seeing the term “tradwife” lately — a modern coinage for a TikTok-fluent married woman who keeps house, extols “traditional” values and yields to her husband. Perhaps you’ve even seen the term Stay-at-Home-Girlfriends, the influencer community’s true prophets of female ease. Unlike stay-at-home-moms, whose days might be filled with school drop-offs and toddler-wrangling, the childless SAHG’s days are filled mostly with home-care and self-care: elaborate skin, fitness and food routines that keep their bodies beautiful and their lives serene for the boyfriends who are, after all, funding the whole shebang.

In one SAHG video, I watched a platinum blonde explain that her boyfriend agreed to pay for all of their travel if she would do all of the packing. The rest of the video was dedicated to the most meticulous suitcase job you’ve ever seen — sunglasses nestled in shoes, a rainbow of rolled shirts — which appeared to take her the better part of an afternoon.

Another video featured a young woman in a negligee patiently curling her hair while an overlay of text read, “People used to ask me, ‘what’s your dream job?’ I never knew the answer. I realized it’s because I don’t dream of labor. I dream of living a soft, feminine life.” The video was captioned “I dream of feminine leisure,” which I soon realized was a sort of motto among this set.

“I dream of feminine leisure,” wrote a lovely brunette as she sauntered to the pool in a floaty coverup.

“I dream of feminine leisure,” wrote another lovely brunette as she applied a fresh coat of lip gloss at her vanity.

The comments on these types of videos abound with wistful envy: Heart emoji, lipstick kiss emoji, green juice, vacuum.

What is feminine leisure, exactly? Is it a set of prescribed activities? An aesthetic? A vibe?

The simple answer is that it’s a solution — maybe not a good solution, but a conceivable one — to a problem. A problem some young women have diagnosed in the landscape of modern adulthood.

A frantic mother of a 16-year-old wrote into Slate’s Care and Feeding advice column a few months ago to say that her formerly go-getter daughter had announced that she wanted to skip the rigors of college and instead focus on maintaining her appearance for a future husband. “She’s now talking about how great the ‘patriarchy’ is,” wrote the alarmed mom, “and how she can’t wait for someone to come and take care of her.”

From Christie to tradwives to SAHGs to Patriarchy Daughter, the common thread seems to be the concept that liberation is overrated. That women raised on the virtues of female independence have been sold a bill of goods. Yes, we are allowed to have successful careers. But nobody had decreased the amount of laundry or errands that still needed to be run. Nobody had added any more hours on the clock.

The Wall Street Journal recently detailed a new paper to be published in the journal Social Indicators Research, which found that “regardless of how the question is asked or what measure is used, women say they are more anxious, more depressed, more tired and more pessimistic than men.” At the same time, though, women are also more likely “to say they are happy and satisfied with their lives.”

It’s a phenomenon known as the “female happiness paradox,” and researchers can’t really explain it.

One guess cited in the article is that the measuring stick itself is off: Men, after all, are the ones who die more often by suicide, drug overdoses and alcoholism. So maybe it’s not that they are less anxious and depressed than women but that, conditioned to be taciturn, they are less likely to report it. Another guess is that the things that stress women out — children, relationship-building, achieving work-life balance — are also the things that give them the most satisfaction.

Regardless of how to interpret the data, the facts of the matter remain that women are either miserable but happy or happy but miserable. And if scientific researchers can’t figure out what to do about this paradox, can 20-year-old women? Why knock yourself over trying? Crash the MBA reception. Curl your hair. Pack the suitcase. Choose ease.

I’ll pause to note that generally, we see and hear much less from the men in these relationships than from their influencer wives and girlfriends; their voices are missing from this discourse. Maybe it’s because the mutual arrangement is working for them, but they’re afraid of being labeled sexist for admitting it. Maybe they don’t want to hurt their girlfriend’s feelings by explaining they truly could not care less if their shirts are rolled. Maybe it’s just because they’re at their offices when all the lovely content is being made.

Whatever the case: I can imagine a lot of men would like to have a stay-at-home-partner, not because they are misogynists but because it’s a relief when someone else has already done the grocery shopping — and I can imagine a lot of women would feel the same way. I can also imagine that a lot of men would like to saunter toward a pool in the middle of a Tuesday, or spend their days as Christie describes in the Cut: “Mostly I get to read, to walk central London and Miami and think in delicious circles.” So far TikTok has not spun off an equivalent stay-at-home-boyfriend aesthetic.

The fact of the matter is that almost nobody who works for a living has the time they wish they did to look, feel, or be their best, much less cultivate a highly aesthetic relationship with a thing called ease .

What if the problem is not feminism but capitalism — specifically the American version, where work-life balance is a punchline? What if instead of 11 paid vacation days , as the average American gets, these women got the full month that is standard in the United Kingdom? What if instead of five (or six or seven) days a week, they worked the four days that countries like South Africa and Belgium are piloting? Would that allow enough time to do a full skin care regiment and pack a great suitcase? If college weren’t so ghastly expensive here, maybe that one lady’s daughter wouldn’t be so keen on the patriarchy as a route to leisure that bypasses the long, uphill road to financial independence.

It wasn’t fair when women had no choice to stay home. It’s not fair if women are working but still doing the work of maintaining a home. It’s not fair if both men and women are trying to juggle it together and still finding there aren’t enough hours or dollars in a day.

Who wouldn’t dream of feminine leisure?

A few months ago I decided to reread Ottessa Moshfegh’s brilliant novel, “My Year of Rest and Relaxation.” It’s about a young woman struggling so much with her grown-up life that she embarks on a plan to sleep through an entire year via a steady influx of prescription narcotics. The ending is ambiguous — but, the way I read it, happy: By the end of the experiment, she has finally rested enough to rejoin the world, which she does with a rejuvenated and more optimistic perspective than she had before.

I mentioned this to a friend, who looked at me funny.

“Oh,” my friend said. “I thought she died.”

While writing this, I learned that a colleague and I were both obsessed with an influencer with a tradwife aesthetic who made elaborate pastries while wearing a placid, unchanging expression that made her look like a high-functioning lobotomy patient. In 2024, was this satire, or serious?

The same co-worker had been served the SAHG skinfluencer videos that also populated my social media feeds. Could you imagine, we asked one another, spending 30 minutes a day washing your face?

And then I went home and started thinking about the most satisfying day I’d had in recent months: A bundle of accrued comp time had allowed me to take a paid day off work on a random Wednesday. I went to yoga, bought a fancy sandwich, booked summer travel, researched preschools, and made a dinner that was, for once, assembled patiently and attractively and not after desperately Googling “15-minute dinner can of beans and one potato?”

There was a good amount of leisure in there — even a good amount of feminine leisure.

But here’s the thing: The day hadn’t felt satisfying because I had achieved harmony with my feminine destiny. It felt satisfying because I, like most other adult humans of any gender, have a long list of necessary tasks, and almost never enough time to get through them. American culture is not conducive to helping to-do lists get shorter. Workweeks are long, vacation is limited, preschools are not universal and must therefore be researched.

And dreams? Dreams are dreams.

I wondered about the women who seemed to be seeking a relationship solution to the societal and existential problem of unrest. Did they really want to have no control over their own finances? To have to ask for an allowance? How would they feel about themselves and the choices they had made in five, 10, 20 years? When their skin was going to get wrinkles no matter how well they had cared for it. When they had run out of ways to film their get-ready-with-me mornings.

Cosmopolitan ran a story last month about some women who had once identified as stay-at-home-girlfriends but don’t anymore. “If he is paying for your whole life and you don’t have any income at all, there will start to be resentment,” influencer Bella Greenlee was quoted as saying, later adding, “I would clean the house more than I had to, just to keep myself entertained. I didn’t really have a lot to do, so I was kind of going crazy.”

The solution to this messy moment in the history of gender and work is not to dream backward, to the way the middle class used to do it — women as pretty property and men as forced breadwinners — and decide that if today isn’t working, yesterday must have been. The solution is to wonder what we might do about tomorrow.

A few days after the “Case For Marrying an Older Man” essay came out, the New Yorker published an article that received much less vitriol and attention. It was a story about a woman named Alena Kate Pettitt , who had gained fame four years ago as one of the original tradwife influencers. Since childhood, she’d prized the idea of a well-kept home and well-set table, and, after marrying and getting pregnant, she quit her job to make such a life a reality. She ironed. She sewed. She took pictures of herself making banana bread and getting dolled up in 1950s-style clothes, and she posted them to Instagram.

And then, gradually and for a lot of reasons, she got tired of being an influencer. She didn’t like how her lifestyle, which she’d pursued out of genuine interest, had slowly become symbolic and politicized. She noted how her content had become an ouroboros: If she tried to post pictures of herself being domestic in jeans and a T-shirt, the reaction was “muted,” she told the New Yorker, while the dolled-up photos of retro housedresses went “through the roof.” So she wore more dresses, and got more followers, and wore more dresses, and what she was doing started to seem progressively more like a myth than real life.

It was lacking, shall we say, ease. Even wrapping herself in a retro bubble hadn’t protected her from having to make difficult choices, engage in self-introspection, work hard, live life. Being a public-facing tradwife turned out to be just as false of a promise as having it all.

Last year, Pettitt made the radical decision to leave Instagram. Her son was about to start high school and her family was planning a transcontinental move. It seemed like a good time to consider all of her life choices, she said. She’d always wanted to own a coffee shop. She thought she might go back to work.