Guide on How to Write a Personal Essay

  .Get a Rough Draft Written & Out: Once you’ve finished all the previous steps, you will want to start on an outline and then write content based on that. Writing out an outline yourself is like ‘thinking with your hands.’ If it goes from one paragraph to the next, like a conversation, ideas begin to flow easily and become very lively in terms of their own style. Once you are finished, with the next first-person piece running through it again and again, once the second pair of eyes has been sufficiently applied, you can commence editing. At this point, no matter how sound the advice may be, theoretically speaking, don’t take a critic as seriously if he/she doesn’t know English as well as you do. When we’re ready to write, we should do it by ourselves. So, After you have checked all these and found any errors that exist, don’t put off longer and start actually writing the paper finally.

One more check should be made of your personal essay before you file it. From here, read over the essay as a whole (not just individual sections or sentences) and proofread it carefully. Having to read an essay full of grammatical mistakes makes people sullen and angry, which can easily be avoided.

6 Personal Essay Examples

Thanks to the Internet, it’s much easier to look up examples nowadays. Don’t forget one thing: if everything’s on the Internet, then who knows if it’s right? If you need to get started, read two examples of personal essays below or buy our essay samples, which are available in various formats.

1. The Day I Learned to Trust Myself

It was a cold, crisp winter morning when I walked into the debate hall, my hands trembling and my heart racing. I could hear the faint murmur of voices as the crowd gathered, their chatter a backdrop to my growing sense of anxiety. Today was the day of the final debate competition, and I was terrified.

I had never seen myself as someone who could command attention or hold an audience’s focus for long. For years, I had been the quiet one in the background—the one who listened intently but rarely spoke up, who shied away from the spotlight. My role on the debate team was usually as the researcher, the silent support for my more vocal teammates. But today was different. Today, I had no choice but to be the one on stage, the one everyone would be watching, judging, and critiquing.

The topic we had been given was complex: the ethical implications of artificial intelligence in healthcare. I had spent weeks researching, reading every article and study I could find, filling notebooks with facts and figures that I hoped would be enough to convince the judges. But as I sat there, waiting for my turn to speak, I was overwhelmed by self-doubt.

What if I couldn’t remember the points I’d prepared? What if I stumbled over my words or mispronounced something? What if my argument didn’t make sense? These thoughts swirled in my head, each one feeding the next until I was on the verge of panicking. I could feel my confidence slipping away, replaced by a suffocating sense of fear.

As my name was called, I stood up on shaky legs, forcing myself to walk to the podium. The spotlight felt harsh against my skin, and the faces in the crowd blurred together as I stared out into the audience. My mouth was dry, my hands cold. I opened my notes, but the words seemed to swim on the page. For a moment, I was frozen, caught in the grips of the anxiety that had haunted me for weeks.

But then, something shifted. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and let go of the need to be perfect. I realized that I wasn’t here to impress anyone; I was here to share what I had learned, to express my ideas, to take a stand. The people in the audience weren’t my enemies—they were just like me, trying to make sense of a complicated world.

I looked up from my notes, straightened my back, and began to speak.

At first, my voice was shaky, barely above a whisper. But as I continued, something surprising happened. The more I spoke, the more confident I became. My words started to flow more naturally, and I found myself not just reading from my notes but expanding on them, weaving in my thoughts and opinions in real time. I remembered facts I hadn’t written down, counterarguments I hadn’t planned to make.

It felt like something clicked inside me, a switch that had been waiting to be flipped. I realized that all the research, all the preparation, hadn’t been for anything—I was more than ready for this moment. My fear had been holding me back, but as soon as I let go of it, I discovered that I had everything I needed within me. I could do this.

When I finished, the room was silent for a brief second before the applause began. I looked around, stunned, as I made my way back to my seat. I had done it. I had spoken up, made my case, and stood my ground. More importantly, I learned to trust myself.

In the days that followed, I reflected on what had happened during that debate. I realized that, for so long, I had let fear control me—fear of failure, fear of judgment, fear of not being good enough. But what I had learned in that moment was that fear is often a creation of our own minds, something we build up until it seems insurmountable. In reality, the only thing holding us back is ourselves.

Since that day, I’ve approached challenges with a new perspective. Instead of letting doubt and fear paralyze me, I remind myself of the debate. I remind myself that I am capable, that I can rise to the occasion, and that I can trust myself. It’s not that the fear has disappeared—it’s still there, lurking in the background—but now I know that I can push through it. I know that I am stronger than I once believed.

The day I learned to trust myself was a turning point in my life. It wasn’t just about winning a debate or overcoming stage fright—it was about realizing my own potential. It was about understanding that I am capable of more than I give myself credit for. It was about learning to believe in myself, even when everything inside me is telling me to be afraid.

And that, more than anything, has been the greatest lesson of all.

2. Moving to a New Country Changed Me Forever

When I was 15, my family moved from our small village in Kenya to a bustling city in the United States. The transition was swift and jarring, leaving little time for me to process the changes that were about to come. In one moment, I was surrounded by the familiar sights and sounds of home—the smell of chapati cooking in the kitchen, the rhythmic hum of Swahili conversations on the street, and the sight of acacia trees lining the horizon. In the next, I found myself in a place that felt like a different world altogether.

The city was massive, the streets endless, and the buildings towering above me in a way that made me feel small and insignificant. The first few months were the hardest. I didn’t speak English fluently, and my accent made me self-conscious every time I opened my mouth. I felt out of place like I didn’t belong in this new world. The cultural differences were stark, and I found myself constantly comparing everything to what I had known back in Kenya.

At school, I was the outsider. My classmates were friendly enough, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was different. I didn’t understand their jokes, their slang, their references to TV shows and celebrities I had never heard of. I longed for the comfort of home, for the familiarity of my friends and the traditions I had grown up with.

But as the months passed, something began to change. I started to make friends—not just with other immigrants like me, but with kids who had grown up in the U.S. I learned to laugh at their jokes, to understand their culture, and even to share a bit of my own. I taught them Swahili phrases, and they introduced me to American pop culture. Slowly but surely, I began to feel less like an outsider.

The turning point came during a class project where we were asked to share something from our culture. I brought in a traditional Kenyan fabric, a kanga, and explained its significance to the class. To my surprise, my classmates were fascinated. They asked questions, wanting to know more about my life in Kenya, about the food, the music, the customs. For the first time, I didn’t feel like I had to hide where I came from. Instead, I felt proud of it.

From that moment on, I began to embrace both sides of my identity. I realized that I didn’t have to choose between being Kenyan and being American—I could be both. I could carry the warmth, community, and traditions of Kenya in my heart while also embracing the opportunities and freedom that life in the U.S. offered. I didn’t have to fit into one box or the other; I could create my own space, blending the best of both worlds.

Over time, I grew more confident in who I was. I stopped worrying about my accent and began to speak up in class. I joined the soccer team and found that the sport was a universal language that connected me with people, no matter where they were from. I made friends from different backgrounds, and in doing so, I learned that everyone has their own unique story of identity and belonging.

Moving to a new country changed me forever. It taught me resilience, adaptability, and the importance of embracing change. It showed me that growth often comes from discomfort and that stepping outside of your comfort zone is the only way to truly discover who you are. I learned to navigate two worlds and found that I didn’t have to leave one behind to embrace the other.

Today, I am proud of my dual identity. I am both Kenyan and American, and I carry both cultures with me wherever I go. The experience of moving to a new country has made me more open-minded, more compassionate, and more understanding of the complexities of identity. It has given me the ability to connect with people from all walks of life and to see the beauty in diversity.

Looking back, I realize that moving to the U.S. was one of the best things that ever happened to me. It wasn’t easy, but it shaped me into the person I am today—someone who is proud of where they come from but also excited about where they are going. The journey of finding myself in a new country taught me that home is not just a place—it’s a feeling, a sense of belonging that you carry within you.

And now, wherever I go, I know that I will always carry a piece of both Kenya and America with me.

Both essays provide a deep, reflective look at significant moments of personal growth and transformation, using detailed descriptions, personal reflections, and emotional honesty.P

7 FAQs about Personal Essays