The best examples of 3 narrative essay examples on overcoming challenges

Picture this: it’s 2 a.m., your cursor is blinking on a blank Google Doc, and your assignment is staring back at you—*“Write a narrative essay about overcoming a challenge.”* Your brain? Completely empty. That’s where strong, real examples of 3 narrative essay examples on overcoming challenges can save you. When you can actually see how other writers turn messy, real-life struggles into clear, powerful stories, your own ideas stop feeling so impossible. In this guide, you’ll walk through three full narrative arcs—school pressure, mental health, and immigration—plus several shorter snapshots from sports, family conflict, financial stress, and social media burnout. These aren’t stiff textbook samples; they’re realistic, story-driven examples that show you how to build tension, add vivid detail, and end with real reflection. As you read these examples of narrative essay stories, pay attention to how each writer moves from **“this was hard”** to **“here’s how it changed me.”** That shift is the heart of every good overcoming-challenges narrative.
Written by
Alex
Published
Updated

1. Example of a narrative essay about academic pressure and burnout

Let’s start with one of the most common school assignments: writing about stress, grades, and expectations. This is the first of our examples of 3 narrative essay examples on overcoming challenges, and it’s built around a familiar scene: a high-achieving student quietly falling apart.


Narrative Example #1: The Night I Almost Quit AP Chemistry

The night before my AP Chemistry midterm, my bedroom looked like a crime scene. Highlighters bled neon across problem sets, sticky notes clung to my laptop, and my textbook lay open like it had given up on me hours ago. My mom cracked the door open to say goodnight, took one look at me, and asked, “When’s the last time you ate something that wasn’t coffee?”

I laughed, but I couldn’t answer.

For most of high school, my identity was simple: I was “the smart one.” Teachers trusted me. Friends asked me to check their work. My parents told relatives about my GPA the way other people talked about vacation plans. I pretended I loved the pressure, but that semester, it started to feel like a trap.

AP Chemistry was the wall I kept running into. I watched classmates breeze through problems that looked like a foreign language to me. I started staying up later, rereading chapters, and watching online lectures at double speed. The more I studied, the less I seemed to understand. When our teacher announced the midterm would be worth 30% of our grade, my stomach dropped.

That night, around 1:47 a.m., I stared at yet another practice problem I couldn’t solve. My hands were shaking. My heart was racing in a way that felt less like motivation and more like panic. I imagined my teacher’s disappointment, my parents’ faces, the quiet shame of watching my rank slip. And then a louder thought pushed through the noise:

What if I just quit?

For a few minutes, I actually considered it. Dropping the class felt like ripping off the label I’d worn my whole life. If I wasn’t “the smart one,” then who was I?

Instead of opening another practice test, I opened a new tab and typed, “how to know if you’re burned out.” I landed on a page from the American Psychological Association describing academic burnout—exhaustion, cynicism, and feeling ineffective. It was like reading my own diary.

The next morning, instead of pretending I was fine, I did something that felt scarier than any exam: I emailed my teacher. I told her I was overwhelmed, that I was studying constantly but not improving, and that I was starting to hate a subject I used to like.

She called me in during lunch. I expected a lecture about time management. Instead, she said, “You’re not a grade. You’re a person. Let’s fix your schedule before we fix your scores.”

We cut down my nightly problem sets, built a weekly tutoring plan, and—this part shocked me—she told me to pick one extracurricular to drop. I chose debate, half-expecting my world to fall apart. It didn’t. I got my evenings back. I started sleeping more than five hours. My hands stopped shaking during quizzes.

When the midterm came, I didn’t ace it. I got a B-. A month earlier, that would have felt like failure. But this time, I saw it differently. That grade wasn’t proof that I wasn’t “the smart one” anymore; it was proof that I could set boundaries and still keep going.

Looking back, the real challenge wasn’t AP Chemistry. It was untangling my self-worth from my report card. The night I almost quit wasn’t the end of my story as a good student; it was the beginning of my story as a healthier one.


Why this is one of the best examples of overcoming academic challenges

This first sample shows how examples of 3 narrative essay examples on overcoming challenges can:

  • Start in the middle of the action (the late-night study scene)
  • Show inner conflict, not just outer events
  • Use a turning point (the email to the teacher) rather than a miracle solution
  • End with reflection about identity and growth, not just grades

If you’re writing about school, you might swap AP Chemistry for failing a math test, bombing the SAT, or struggling with remote learning during the pandemic. The structure—struggle, breaking point, honest help-seeking, and reflection—stays the same.


2. Example of a narrative essay about mental health and asking for help

The second of our examples of 3 narrative essay examples on overcoming challenges goes deeper than grades. More students are writing personal narratives about anxiety, depression, and burnout, especially after COVID-19. According to the CDC, rates of anxiety and depressive symptoms have increased among young people in recent years, which means mental health narratives are not only powerful—they’re timely.


Narrative Example #2: Learning to Say “I’m Not Okay”

The first time I had a panic attack, I thought I was dying.

It happened in the cereal aisle at the grocery store, of all places. One second I was comparing prices on granola, and the next my heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. My vision blurred. My hands went numb. I grabbed the cart just to stay standing.

“Do you need water?” my mom asked. I shook my head, embarrassed, and blamed it on not eating breakfast. But I knew it wasn’t hunger. It was something I’d been trying to outrun for months.

Junior year had become a blur of obligations: varsity soccer, advanced classes, helping my little brother with homework while my parents worked late. I told everyone I was “just tired.” The truth was uglier. I’d lie awake at 3 a.m. replaying every tiny mistake from the day. I started skipping lunch to finish assignments in the library. My friends joked that I “lived on vibes and caffeine.” I laughed with them, but privately I wondered how long I could keep going.

The cereal-aisle meltdown was followed by more episodes—during warm-ups at practice, in the car on the way to school, even once during a test when the room suddenly felt like it was shrinking. I googled my symptoms late at night and ended up on a National Institute of Mental Health page about anxiety disorders. The checklist read like a biography.

I kept telling myself it wasn’t “that bad.” Other people had real problems. I had good grades, a roof over my head, and a college list. Who was I to say I was struggling?

The breaking point came on a Tuesday afternoon. I was sitting in the locker room after practice, staring at my cleats, when my coach sat down next to me.

“You’ve been off lately,” she said gently. “This isn’t about soccer, is it?”

I wanted to say I was fine. Instead, tears came out.

Once I started talking, I couldn’t stop. I told her about the racing thoughts, the panic, the late-night doom-scrolling, the way my chest felt tight even when nothing “bad” was happening. I expected her to tell me to toughen up.

Instead, she said, “You don’t have to earn the right to feel overwhelmed.”

She walked me to the school counselor’s office. Saying “I think I need help” out loud felt like stepping off a cliff. But the counselor didn’t look surprised or disappointed. She looked…prepared. She talked me through grounding techniques, helped me create a lighter schedule, and encouraged me to talk to my parents about therapy.

Therapy sounded terrifying. Where I’m from, people whisper about it like it’s a scandal. But after a few sessions with a licensed therapist, I started to understand what was happening in my body when anxiety took over. I learned to notice the first signs—a tight jaw, shallow breathing—and interrupt the spiral with tools that actually worked.

My anxiety didn’t disappear. I still have bad days. The challenge I overcame wasn’t “curing” my mental health; it was letting go of the idea that I had to handle everything alone. I stopped treating asking for help as a failure and started seeing it as a skill.

Now, when friends joke about being “so anxious,” I don’t just laugh it off. I ask, “No, really—how are you sleeping?” Sometimes, they open up. Sometimes, they don’t. But at least they know I’m a safe place to land, the way my coach and counselor were for me.


What this mental health story teaches you as a writer

This second sample stands out among the best examples of 3 narrative essay examples on overcoming challenges because it:

  • Anchors a big issue (anxiety) in a small, specific moment (the cereal aisle)
  • Uses real resources (like NIMH) to ground the story in reality
  • Shows that “overcoming” doesn’t always mean “problem solved forever”
  • Highlights a mindset shift—from silence to honesty—as the real victory

If you’re writing your own narrative, your version might be about depression, body image, social media addiction, or grief. The pattern is similar: quiet struggle, a visible breaking point, support from a real person, and a new way of seeing yourself.


3. Example of a narrative essay about immigration and identity

The third of our examples of 3 narrative essay examples on overcoming challenges zooms out to a bigger life transition: moving countries, learning a new language, and trying to fit into a culture that doesn’t quite feel like yours yet.


Narrative Example #3: Between Two Lunch Tables

On my first day of eighth grade in the United States, I learned that silence can be louder than any accent.

I walked into the cafeteria holding a tray that smelled like pizza and fear. Back home, in El Salvador, lunch was noisy and familiar—someone always stealing fries, someone always telling a story too loudly. Here, the room was just as loud, but none of the noise belonged to me.

I spotted a table of girls who looked my age and took a deep breath. Just sit. Just say hi.

“Is this seat taken?” I asked.

They turned to look at me, and I watched their eyes do the quick scan: clothes, hair, face, uncertainty. One girl smiled politely and nodded at the empty chair. I sat down, relieved.

That relief lasted about three seconds.

“Where are you from?” another girl asked.

“El Salvador,” I said.

“Ohhh,” she replied, stretching the word. “That’s, like, in Mexico, right?”

I opened my mouth to answer and felt my English crumble. The words were there, but they got stuck behind my tongue. I managed, “No, is…different country,” and instantly hated how I sounded.

The conversation moved on without me. They talked about TV shows I didn’t know, teachers I hadn’t met, inside jokes I couldn’t decode. I pushed pizza around my plate and counted the minutes until the bell.

For weeks, school felt like that lunch table: a place where I was physically present but invisible. I understood more English than I could speak, which meant I spent most of my time listening, laughing a second too late, and pretending I wasn’t lonely.

At home, my parents were thrilled. “This is the American dream,” my dad kept saying. “You’ll have so many opportunities.” I didn’t know how to tell him that opportunity felt a lot like isolation.

The turning point came in the most unexpected place: the library.

I started going there during lunch to avoid the cafeteria. One day, the librarian noticed I kept checking out the same kind of books—YA novels with bilingual characters.

“You might like this,” she said, handing me a memoir by a Latina author about growing up between cultures. I devoured it in two days. For the first time since we moved, I saw my confusion and homesickness on a page.

A week later, the librarian asked if I’d help her start a small “international stories” display. I wrote short recommendation cards—in my careful, imperfect English—about books that made me feel less alone. One afternoon, a girl from my science class picked up a book I’d recommended.

“Hey,” she said, holding it up. “You wrote this, right? I’m half Colombian. My Spanish is terrible, though.” She laughed awkwardly.

“Mi inglés también,” I joked back.

We both laughed for real that time.

We started sitting together in science, then at lunch. She introduced me to her friends. They stumbled over my name at first, then got it right. I taught them slang from back home; they taught me the difference between “what’s up” and “what’s good.”

I didn’t magically stop missing El Salvador. I still flinched when people mispronounced my hometown or made lazy jokes about “Spanish food” like it was all the same. But I stopped seeing my accent as a mistake to fix and started seeing it as proof that I carried two worlds in my mouth.

The challenge of immigration didn’t end when I learned enough English to order at Starbucks without panicking. It changed shape. I realized I didn’t have to choose between being “from El Salvador” and being “American.” I could be both. I was both every time I translated a joke for my parents or texted my new friends in a mix of two languages.

Sitting between two lunch tables taught me something I never expected: the hardest part of starting over isn’t learning new words; it’s believing that your old ones still matter.


How this immigration story strengthens your own writing

Among our examples of 3 narrative essay examples on overcoming challenges, this one shows how to:

  • Use specific settings (cafeteria, library) to show emotional isolation and connection
  • Let side characters (the librarian, the friend) act as quiet catalysts for change
  • Explore identity as an ongoing process, not a neat resolution

If your challenge involves moving—whether it’s across countries, states, or even just schools—you can borrow this structure: disorientation, loneliness, one small lifeline, then a gradual rebuilding of confidence and community.


More real examples of overcoming challenges you can borrow

The three main stories above give you clear, full-length examples of 3 narrative essay examples on overcoming challenges, but maybe your life doesn’t look exactly like any of them. That’s fine. You can mix and match elements from these and other real examples, such as:

  • Sports injury and comeback: Tearing your ACL before senior season, going through months of physical therapy (check out Mayo Clinic’s ACL injury overview for realistic details), and learning to lead from the sidelines instead of the scoreboard.
  • Family financial stress: A parent losing a job, you picking up part-time work, learning to budget, and seeing college or career plans in a new light.
  • Social media burnout: Realizing your mood is tied to likes, deleting apps for a month, and slowly rebuilding your attention span and self-esteem offline.
  • Learning difference or disability: Discovering you have ADHD or dyslexia, struggling with shame, then getting accommodations and learning to advocate for yourself using resources from places like Harvard’s Accessible Education Office.

Each of these can become its own narrative essay. The best examples include:

  • A specific starting moment (an injury, a diagnosis, a bill, a comment online)
  • A period where things get worse or more complicated
  • A decision point where you choose to act differently
  • A reflection on what changed in you—not just around you

When teachers or test prompts ask for an “example of overcoming a challenge,” they’re not asking for a superhero story. They’re asking for a human one.


How to use these examples of 3 narrative essay examples on overcoming challenges without copying

You’re here for inspiration, not plagiarism. Treat these narratives like training wheels:

  • Borrow the structure, not the sentences. Notice how each story opens with a vivid scene, builds tension, and ends with reflection.
  • Swap in your own details. Your “AP Chemistry” might be a driving test. Your “cereal aisle” might be a crowded bus. Your “library” might be a part-time job.
  • Stay honest about the scale. Not every challenge has to be life-or-death. A smaller, honest story is usually stronger than a dramatic but fake one.

If you’re unsure about mental health or medical details in your essay, sites like NIMH, CDC, and Mayo Clinic can help you keep things realistic.


FAQ: narrative essay examples on overcoming challenges

Q: Where can I find more real examples of narrative essays about overcoming challenges?
You can read sample personal statements on many university sites, including some admissions offices that share anonymized essays. You can also look at narrative nonfiction in magazines or memoir excerpts from your library—these often function as high-level narrative essays.

Q: What’s one strong example of a short challenge I can write about if my life feels “normal”?
You might write about standing up to a friend, dropping an activity that was hurting your mental health, retaking a failed class, or learning to drive after an accident. Small but honest shifts in courage, boundaries, or maturity make powerful stories.

Q: How long should my narrative essay on overcoming challenges be?
For school assignments, teachers often ask for 500–1,000 words. College application essays are usually 500–650 words. What matters most is that your story has a clear beginning, middle, and end—and that you reflect on how the challenge changed you.

Q: Can I use humor in a narrative essay about serious challenges?
Yes, carefully. Many of the best examples include small moments of humor, especially when looking back. Just avoid making fun of trauma or other people’s pain. Humor should reveal your personality, not minimize the challenge.

Q: Do teachers expect a perfect “happy ending” in these essays?
No. In fact, essays often feel more honest when the ending is mixed. Maybe you’re still anxious sometimes, still miss your home country, or still struggle with time management. The key is to show growth in perspective, habits, or self-understanding.


If you remember nothing else, remember this: the strongest examples of 3 narrative essay examples on overcoming challenges are not about being flawless. They’re about being honest, specific, and willing to show how hard moments shaped the person you’re becoming.

Explore More Narrative Essay

Discover more examples and insights in this category.

View All Narrative Essay