I remember my first day in school at Georgia Military College. It was quiet on campus. The freshly cut green yard had signs that said, “No walking on grass.” The buildings, looming with castle-like features, faced each other across that untouchable landscape. Where in the world was I? Was this college?  What kind of hard work would I have to do here? It definitely didn’t look like the movies.

That was the question I asked myself when I attended the first day of school at Georgia Military College (GMC). I had always dreamed of going to college, playing next-level soccer, and that the military was a part of that dream. Georgia Military College had that perfect mesh, or so I thought. In the end, however, I must tell you that GMC was quite frankly one of my only choices.

Let’s quickly rewind to the last year of my high school career. I had one of the best senior classes. The high school football season was incredible. Soccer was my life and I was deeply set on going to the next level by being a part of travel teams and a state-bound varsity team. I was attending other sporting events, painting up, hanging out at house parties, and preparing myself for prom and graduation.

The only thing I was worried about was enjoying the last few months with my friends and making sure they were to die for. I was definitely not worried about hard work or life after high school.

Then, I noticed something quite peculiar about my friends. They were all getting acceptance letters from schools… University of Georgia. Georgia Tech. Alabama. Auburn. Georgia Southern.

I had been in contact with tons of soccer coaches around the nation to join a college team, but I had no acceptance papers to waive in the air. I was never in that sort of rush. Once I saw some of my friends’ acceptance letters, I realized my time in high school was coming to an end.

I remember going home and emailing a lot of my coaches and seeing how I could finalize the signing process. The only problem was that I was afraid my grades were not going to get me far. That was one thing I did not put the most attention toward in high school.

I had many schools at the top of my list, but at the end of the day, many of them did not have me at the top of their list. In the finale of my high school days, I chose my best match, Georgia Military College, because of the potential soccer scholarship, military ideals, small size, the good price, and the proximity to home, and… because they accepted me.

Now, back to that first day at Georgia Military College. The only people I saw were military-dressed students lining up in formation outside one of the buildings.

Two older gentlemen, dressed in army camouflage breezed by me as I watched others in formation. I could see two edges of campus, given how relatively small in size the school’s property was. A single flag pole stood in the middle to break the uneasy silence, crackling in the late summer wind.

The semester began fast and, before I knew it, soccer was starting too. After a few weeks, I wasn’t sure if I had made the right choice. I remember thinking how I had let myself down in high school by not having the right mindset and how that culminated to where I was. GMC was almost too small – smaller than my high school actually.

It was close to home, but the town did not offer a quarter of what my hometown offered. On top of everything, I kept getting crushed by the response of people when I told them I was attending a junior college. I could sense that people considered junior college students as underachievers. It’s a stigma all community college students face.

I dreaded going to class. I didn’t feel at home and I didn’t feel like I was meeting many people. I felt like I was making no progress. I wanted to leave.

I researched other schools while I was in class. “Anything,” I thought. I looked around in the state of Georgia and even out of state. Where could I go that was more traditional? Where would I get accepted? I applied to Kennesaw State University (KSU), where most of my closest friends went.

I was going to get out of Georgia Military College and move on to bigger things, I thought. However, within a month, KSU replied back. I vividly remember opening that letter in front of my parents, who knew the bad news before I did. “Unfortunately,” it read atop the page. I was not accepted. I was crushed. I was officially stuck in a town where I felt I didn’t belong and stuck at a school where I felt I was going to make no progress.

The next semester started and I promised myself that I would be more attentive to school and that I would get more involved – something I had never really paid full attention too. I thought if I worked my tail off, maybe I could get into Kennesaw State University the following year.

I studied every night. I read the textbooks. I went to the library. I never missed a class – not even my 7:50am classes. I focused on putting in the time on the soccer field. No more video games. No more wasting time. I started working a job at a sandwich restaurant in order to gain some capital for whichever school was next. My life was moving. I noticed an increase in my GPA and I was making the Dean’s List. My bank account had also increased. My soccer team was doing better than it had ever done in the history of the school.

I felt like everything was working out toward that ultimate goal of transferring. The best news, however, was when I heard in one of my classes that there was an invite-only honor society for students, which helped most students get into large four-year universities. I talked to my teacher after class and tried to figure out how I could get involved.

I thought that they could help me transfer. She saw my GPA and then told me that it was possible that I could get a letter in the mail. I waited and waited and it finally arrived: one of the most pivotal moments in my life. I called my parents and begged them to help me with the membership fees.

The next semester I was inducted into Phi Theta Kappa (PTK). I felt on top of the world. I reviewed what I did and realized that if I focused more and gave more effort then more things would happen like PTK. So I focused more and gave more effort. I was elected Chapter President of Phi Theta Kappa at my school (Alpha Omicron Epsilon) and then selected as Phi Theta Kappa Regional President.

I helped host the Regional Convention and I earned the Distinguished Order of the Leader Servant Award, which represented 100+ hours of community service. I met with the mayor of our town, the president of our school, and many other distinguished people. I couldn’t believe what I had reached and the experiences I was having. I didn’t want to leave.

This school was the exact opposite of what I thought. The culture was amazing. The people and faculty were like family. Everything I wanted in a school was right in front of me the whole time.

The problem was that I had never given it enough – but when I did, the door to opportunity opened up right in front of me.

My last semester approached of junior college and it was time for the next step: applying to a four-year university. It was a weird experience for me, having already been let down by other schools. Georgia Military College was where I wanted to be.

I didn’t think I would have a better time anywhere else. Then, I thought to myself, “Corey, this school is a stepping stone. It is where you realized your potential. It’s where you realized what it takes to be successful. Now replicate you hard work at the next school. Make your impact on a larger scale.”

My faculty, advisors, and PTK members helped me begin the process that every student in junior college goes through: transferring to a larger university. It is very common to receive an Associate’s Degree and then continue on towards a Bachelor’s – its’ actually the new norm.

My dad told me to create a list and do research on what each school offered. He told me to dream big and to not limit myself. I started creating a list and of course Kennesaw State was at the top… I knew that I could get in now. I remember speaking with dad and he said, “You know there are more schools than KSU right? Why don’t you try some other ones?” Eventually, after I did my research, I realized he was right.

My list extended and Kennesaw dropped to 9th of 15 possibilities. Schools like Georgia Tech, The University of Florida, Florida State University, Flagler College, Auburn University, The University of Georgia, University of Central Florida, and The University of South Florida were on the list (not in that order). I couldn’t believe it, but every school I wanted to go to was now an option.

I applied to each one and the first one to come back was the one I had longed for… Kennesaw State. “Accepted.” I showed my parents and then shared with all of my friends that I had been accepted.

The decision to attend KSU was made before I could realize it. Even though I had put Kennesaw at 9th, it bolted back to the top. I was looking up where to live, talking to friends who lived there, and looking at everything 50 times on their website. It was going to be incredible.

Then, a letter came in a few weeks later: The University of Georgia. The most prestigious and traditional school in my state.

The school that students with perfect GPA’s and SAT scores got denied from. The outside of the envelope said it all, “Accepted.” I couldn’t believe it. The University of Georgia accepted me.

Suddenly, my dreams of attending Kennesaw were sent into limbo. I laid both envelopes on my desk and watched many others come in over the next few weeks. Most were hand-written and some with special offerings and educational scholarships. With a little hard work, things were beginning to fall in place… I was always set on going to Kennesaw, but after a long decision process, and a talk with my parents, The University of Georgia would be my next home.

There is a major quote that is probably over said that I would like to share. It is and probably always will be my favorite quote: “If you do what you’ve always done, you’ll get what you’ve always got.” – Antony Robbins. The truth of that quote is far more than I can explain in my college story and it speaks wonders to me.

By working hard and changing what I always did, things began to change for me. I had been accepted to The University of Georgia. After attending the Phi Theta Kappa National Conference in San Jose, California, I was offered a position with the World Leading Learning Company, Pearson Education.

I have since then been promoted to Regional Coordinator position in the Pearson Campus Ambassador Program. I also participated as a Social Media Strategist and started my own blog, coreygeary, which has produced over 7,000 views to date.

I have traveled to San Jose, New York City, Disney World, Boston, and I look to travel to San Antonio and San Francisco this year all thanks to the opportunities at my job and school. I have given speeches in front of students and wrote many articles on why students need to give it their all. I am currently a senior at The University of Georgia where I attend classes at The Terry College of Business, one of the nation’s most prestigious undergraduate business schools.

I have also taken on the role of a second job in student housing. In May of 2016, I will graduate with a Bachelors of Business Administration in Management. On top of all of that, I am currently co-founding a business that focuses on the importance of mentorship to students, which will make its debut in the fall of 2016. Life is moving forward at light speed.

I am just an example of the thousands of students who change their future – whether they start in Junior College or not. It doesn’t matter where you come from or where you are; you control your future.

From what I knew four years ago out of high school to now, the most important lesson I can reiterate is that quote by Antony Robbins. If I had stayed on that path of doing just enough and quitting when things got too bad to go back to old ways, then I would have not had the experiences that I’ve had. It’s about being persistent and making the change you want to see. You are what you make yourself.

One last note: If it wasn’t for the people I’m about to thank, that change would have been very hard to accomplish. I want to personally thank my mom and dad for being by my side every step of the way. Being a first generation college student has a lot of pressure on a family and you two took all of the pressure off of me with your support and love.

Thank you to Mrs. Zipperer, Lt. Col. Edward Shelor, and Celes Mason for molding me into a leader and showing me the way to success at Georgia Military College. Thank you to Pearson and Kara Manis for giving me a chance to lead and create, and to be a part of the Pearson Family. Thank you Allison Jones for being a mentor far before you were my official mentor.

Thank you to my family and friends, and importantly those who walked with me at Georgia Military College and at Phi Theta Kappa who took on a similar mission. I couldn’t have done it alone.

It has been about two years since I came off my anti-anxiety medication. Well, it’s more like I was forced off. When you become homeless, you lose all of the benefits of a home and parents, including health insurance. But, that’s another story. This is the story of my severe anxiety and how I’ve managed it.

A few days after I didn’t have my pills, I suddenly remembered how much I needed them. There were so many things that sent my thoughts through the roof, and I swore I was going to die. It was an absolute nightmare of a sensory overload.

I had to check my shoes to make sure they were double-knotted because, if I didn’t, I would trip crossing the street and get run over. I had to make sure when I plugged something into an outlet that it was in all the way, otherwise I would start an electrical fire and die. I had to make sure every single zipper on my book bag was closed, otherwise everything would fall out when I was crossing the street, and everything would fall down the sewer drain. Honestly, I thought I could relate to Aunt Josephine from Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events.

I had two anxiety attacks in the five days I was homeless.

I almost went back to the abusive home I had been thrown from, because at least there I would be medicated. And it was with that thought – going back to being abused just so I could get medication – that I realized I needed to reevaluate a lot of things about myself.

A few days turned into a few weeks. I was still wired with fear of any and everything going wrong at any and every moment. But, nothing ever did.

My behavior was still a little on the obsessive. It’s probably the main reason why my stomach and chest always felt tight. Back then (and now) I would get hours from my job, and I would calculate exactly how much I would be getting paid for that week and the next, and I would write out a list of things I needed to spend on three checks at a time. It created (and still creates) a lot of unneeded pressure on myself, because I am always in fear that one week something will happen and I won’t be able to work. You get the idea.

But this small obsession has allowed me to be more successful as an adult. I have the ability to budget for things and  to know ahead of time where all of my money needs to go.

The weeks turned into months, and, would you believe it, nothing happened. I wasn’t falling in the streets, I wasn’t burning to death, and, you guessed it, I wasn’t losing everything in my book bag while crossing the street.

But, the anxiety of it possibly happening was always there. By now, I had gotten really good about deflecting the tight stomach and chest feeling by entertaining something else.

I would sing. I would whip out my phone and play a game. I would read something. I’d listen to the grossest, mushiest, and lovey-dovey-iest song I had on my music playlist, and I’d find a way to giggle about it. Holy shit, I was gonna be fine.

And here we are. Two years later. My greatest deflector now is my fiancé.

I was so embarrassed when I told him that I had a mental illness, but he couldn’t connect the pieces as to why I felt that way. He just didn’t get it. I was embarrassed because I wanted to fit that unattainable image of “perfect girl,” and “perfect girls” don’t have anxiety. He made me realize that I was already perfect with all of my quirks.

Once I got my life back in working order, there were many times where I could have afforded the anti-anxiety medication I needed. But, I thought it was weak to go running back to the pills because it would make me feel better. I’m also extremely stubborn, and I told myself I could fight off the feeling I got without the pills.

My fiancé has become so tuned to my responses that he knows I’m getting overwhelmed long before I do. Sometimes, I’ll be writing at the dinner table and he’ll come and take my hands away from whatever it is I’m doing, and put them on his chest and breathe.

That’s it. I’ll copy his breathing, and realize that my own had been shallow before. I’ll feel his heart thumping, and, holy shit, is that a soothing feeling. He’ll let go after 20 seconds, say, “there,” give me a forehead kiss, and go back to what he was doing. And it works. Every. Single. Time.

I’ve realized that I was right about not running back to taking pills because it was easy. There are so many other alternatives to anti-anxiety medication, and I never thought I’d be marrying the best one.

For two years, though I propelled forward in my career, I remained stagnant when it came to creativity and inspiration. I became so focused on practicality that I forgot my passions. I became so focused on money and trying to make it financially that I forgot that it’s not the hours—it’s the heart and energy behind it.

Life’s too short. Focus on what makes you come alive.

When 2015 rolled around, I knew that this year would be different in that sense. I watched my friends at church go after huge dreams, and I was inspired.

Through a series of events, including the sudden loss of a significant role to contract services for a big startup, I was pushed forward both voluntarily and involuntarily into realizing bigger dreams.

I started watching YouTube videos, listening to Lynda tutorials, listening to the Social Media Examiner Show/Podcast a few times a week, reading Mashable and HubSpot regularly, and more. It’s important to also tune in to Pinterest, industry leaders, and Tumblr for inspiration.

I began creative photo projects-as photography is one of my biggest passions. I have had the opportunity to take photos of some of the most overlooked people in our community, as well as some of the most prominent.

I set out to decide what it was that I really want to do with my time. I eventually came to a conclusion, and that is to spend about 80% of my working hours on nonprofit work, and the rest on freelance work.

Being an extrovert, I need a place to go to every day to work for something I believe in with people I love. However, I’m also a freebird. I love connecting people and events and places. I need variety and diversity. This brings me alive and inspires me. It gives that kick to what I do every day.

My dream is a consistent side income of consulting services, freelance photography, publishing books, and photojournalism missions overseas.

My first step towards this direction, and ultimately everything that has developed in the last four and a half months (and ongoing), is the Humans of Athens, Georgia Project.

My vision is to love and inspire each and every person in the Athens community, or wherever I am living in that season of life. Each person is worthy of being celebrated. Most people in America don’t realize how worthy they are of celebration. Let’s change that.

Every person has a story. One story at a time. Everyone is unique. And, everyone needs to be inspired and touched by the stories of others. Plus, it’s a way to get my name out there and network.

To raise awareness that I’m a photographer who’d love to assist wedding photographers, do corporate shoots, family portraits, engagement sessions, graduation photos, and of course landscapes/missions. Let’s spread the love! Let’s celebrate!

When I graduated high school, I dismissed the idea of college. I wasn’t lazy and I didn’t want to take a year off to travel Europe. The idea of college was immediately dismissed because I was too stupid for college. I was too poor for college.

My mother didn’t graduate high school and she managed to raise three children on her own, while holding down multiple jobs. College was a luxury for smart or rich people and I was neither. I needed a job, to make money, to pay bills. There really was no other option for me.

Shortly after I turned 19, a recruiter sold me on the idea of the Army Reserves. I would be able to serve my country, one weekend a month and two weeks in the summer, and be able to remain close to my family. For eight years, I served my country, one weekend a month and two weeks during the summer. I was honorably discharged, thanked for my service, and I continued to exist. My civilian life consisted of meaningless jobs and relationships.

For those eight years, I simply existed. That was my story. And then one day it wasn’t.

The day I became a mother was the happiest and most terrifying moment of my life. That day, my life became someone else’s life. Every single day I had lived, to that point, did not matter. The only thing that mattered, from that moment on, was my tiny human. I made a promise to myself, and my child, that everything I did from that point on, would be for him and him only. I lived for him.

Then I married a man. I had another tiny human. I made the same promise to him, as I had his brother. I moved into a subdivision, in a brick house, and I drove a mommy SUV. I was making good on my promises and living for my boys. I formed a mommy group and volunteered in the community.

I was a stay-at-home mom and for nearly five years, that was my story. And then one day it wasn’t.

There are a million reasons why divorce happens, none of which matter, and only the facts remain. The fact is I failed. I failed at my marriage, which caused me to fail my boys and break the promise I made to them. My life, that felt so perfect, was gone.

I had a home with wheels. My mommy SUV was on its last leg and there were three drug raids in my neighborhood within the first year of living there. As devastating as this was for me, I did not have time to lament over my lost life for long, because a new problem quickly presented itself.

The job market was vastly different than it was when my life consisted of meaningless jobs.

I had a high school diploma and a resume littered with odd jobs and a five-year gap of nothing. Employers saw me as a risk, either because my resume was horrid or because I posed a risk of rampant absenteeism because I was a single mother of two young children.

I worked odd jobs and littered my resume even more. I got a dose of how amazingly difficult it is to succeed in a world that paid single parents just enough to afford day care, food, clothing, and shelter. It didn’t take a mathematician to realize the cycle could never be broken. Every time I found myself a few hundred dollars ahead, something or someone broke and I was back in debt. Finally, I gathered every shred of dignity I had and burned it in a proverbial trash can.

I walked into the welfare office. That was my story. And then it wasn’t.

I could say some cosmic revelation or divine intervention happened, but really, it does not matter how it happened. What matters is that it happened. Someone cared enough to show me there was another, better way. In one afternoon, Pell grants and financial aid and certificates were explained to me.

Programs existed that would drastically improve my quality of life, if only I enrolled in college. The same programs would help me pay for college and daycare, and even help me find a job. The woman, the someone who cared, explained the whole process to me as if it was some simple task. There was nothing to it, she said.

She didn’t realize there was something to it. The woman didn’t know I was stupid. I couldn’t help but notice she didn’t realize this from the beginning. Why did she waste her spiel about programs and college on someone who, obviously, would never be able to maintain the grades the programs required? Those thoughts, however, didn’t matter. I could not tell her I had no other choice but to try.

Within a week, I was enrolled in community college. That was my story. And then it wasn’t.

Before, when I thought I was stupid, I never questioned why I thought I was stupid. Then, when I realized I wasn’t stupid, and I questioned why, the answer was so unbelievably obvious. Years of self-deprecation, mental and physical abuse, and constant teenage bullying were the culprit. That fact was painfully clear, when I finally allowed myself to ask why.

One small number was all it took to cause me to question the validity of my intelligence: 4.0. For two semesters, that tiny number kept me afloat. Even when that tiny number fell to a 3.8, still, it meant more to me than anyone knew. Even though I was taking easy classes and the general requirements, it still meant there was a strong possibility I may be able to, at least, get a degree.

Then, the validation came in another form: an invitation. Labeled like any other piece of mail, as if it wasn’t one of the most important documents I would ever receive, was an invitation to become a member of an honor society.

When I read the invitation, I was thankful I was alone in my car, because I cried.

I usually never cry in front of people, and rarely ever cry at all. That day, however, I cried tears I never knew needed to be cried. I was not stupid. Really not stupid. More importantly, there was a possibility I could actually get an associate’s degree.

I celebrated later that day, with my boys. We had pizza on the living room floor and drank juice boxes and my boys were proud of me. My youngest son, barely 5 years old, said proudly, “my momma is the smartest momma ever!”Then, my oldest son, only 7 years old said, “I can’t wait to go to college, because I am going to be in the same club as you, momma!”

The youngest boy child shrieked and echoed his older brother. They laughed and ate their pizza and drank their juice boxes and my life changed.

I did not break my promise to my boys. At only 5 and 7 years old, they knew, without a doubt, they were smart and they would go to college. Suddenly, the educational journey I was on changed and it was not about me anymore. This journey was about setting an example for my boys and showing them what could be.

I decided, right there on my living room floor, I was not going to try to get a certificate or a degree, just to gain employment. I was going to do whatever I wanted, because it was not just about a paycheck anymore. I was used to my simple life. My boys didn’t need me to make a lot of money to buy them a lot of things.

They needed me to be happy so I could show them how to be happy. They needed me to succeed to show them how to succeed. They needed me to show them what seems impossible is possible.

The other night I was sitting around a table playing cards with some friends, while another group of friends gathered around the television engulfed in the finale of the famous show, “The Bachelorette”. Why was I not one of the girls with my eyes glued to that screen for two hours?

That love is not the love of our dreams.

That love is forced for 12 weeks until a female narrows down a group of 25 men to a single one, who she is apparently lucky to call her future husband. Now, I’m not bashing on this show, I find it quite amusing and I definitely get a kick out of it. That said, that show does not portray the love we want or need.

• Love is something every girl dreams about.
• Love is something that makes a girl so vulnerable on the inside that words cannot come close to describing the feeling it brings with it.
• Love is strong, so powerful that it can shape our daily lives.
• We constantly place our self-worth on that feeling of love.

Do people love me?

Society has placed it in our minds that we are on a constant search for the one that will give us this “feeling.” But is this “feeling” really so great? It causes so much heartache, so much jealousy, so much sadness, and yet it is all we are searching for as human beings.

Does my significant other love me? Do my friends love me? So much is dependent on love. I see elderly couples walking down the street hand-in-hand clearly in love, and I wonder … how can it be that easy?

The love I have experienced has been nothing short of a roller coaster ride filled with never ending twists and turns. Love can never be simple. I think of that couple, I think of the amount of hardship and problems their love most likely endured, and how in the end they are together, hand-in-hand, loving each other.

Then I think of my best friend, 20 years of age, experiencing a love that at the same time is breaking her heart. How can love bring so much happiness, but at the same time be so menacing to someone’s mind and soul? It makes absolutely no sense.

We dream of this love that is so easy, so simple, so perfect; a love that we honestly will most likely never experience. Why keep searching for it, you ask? Love is what keeps us going. It will find someone multiple times in their lifetime taking on different forms, but affecting them all the same. Love is the boundless feeling that overtakes every mind, body, and soul on this planet and there is absolutely no stopping it. The only thing you can do is embrace it and pray that it happens to be the love that you ultimately desire.

One reason as to why companies fall short of being great can be summed up by Simon Sinek’s philosophy, “people don’t buy what you do, they buy why you do it.” Sinek draws a circle diagram to better describe his philosophy. The circle consists of three rings; the outside reads “what”, the middle reads “how”, and the inside, “why”.

Although this philosophy is intended for those to work from the inside-out, that rarely seems to be the case. What most people do, and this explains Sinek’s theory as to why these individuals do not achieve their full potential, is think of what they’re going to do, how they’re going to accomplish it, and then worry about why. The “why” is the most important factor, it explains the purpose.

In reality, those who fall victim to this majority like myself, are actually living their lives backwards and have unknowingly set themselves up for anything but greatness. After understanding the meaning behind Sinek’s concept and reflecting on my own personal life, I find this philosophy hard to live by.

As I progress through college, I realize I’ve developed the same system most mediocre companies have adapted, by starting from the outside in.

I have witnessed myself struggling through classes, trying to pass, not really interested in the material itself. I decided to go to college because I assumed what the majority assumes and that is, the higher the education, the higher the salary you will be paid. But what exactly is my purpose?

When I think of Simon Sinek’s concept and relate it to my own life, I understand the importance of being passionate. I think a lot of young adults my age become pressured and ultimately confine themselves to the status-quo rather than just follow what they truly believe. I find it extremely hard to talk about myself, and I do not mean basic information that can be found on social media, I’m referring to something a lot deeper than interests and hobbies. I’m lacking passion. I’m lacking the first step to Simon Sinek’s philosophy.

For a while I’ve adopted my own philosophy in life, and that is to never stop progressing.

I’ve always believed that as long as I can live by that, I will always keep striving for better. But with this concept, what will I ultimately achieve? There’s one vital necessity lacking in order to work towards something wicked and out of this world. Passion. My idea of passion is a driving force embedded within ourselves that, only when tapped into, can something great come about. The closest I’ve ever come to being passionate about something was when I used to compete in track.

I come from a small high school with a graduating class of about 150 students. I had the same coach for spring and winter track, along with cross country. We were a group one blue division school with a passion for achieving something great. My coach always told my teammates and I to never settle for being mediocre. This was something I silently repeated to myself everyday before I prepared for practice.

I did not care what the odds against my team or myself were, we just decided to compete despite who may be standing next to us on the line. Our work ethic on and off the track was fueled by a passion that disregarded the status-quo, the idea that small schools only have a chance to compete against other small schools and are not even considered competition against the bigger schools. I am proud to say I was apart of not only one season, but all three, that defied this common ideology.

It was only after graduation that I was really able to take the time to reflect back on all of my team’s achievements. What I realized was yes, we did have a common goal and really worked towards it knowing what our purpose was, but none of our accomplishments could have ever happened if it were not for progression.

Progression is what fueled our passion.

Each chance to race was an opportunity to run better than before. We had to work with only a limited amount of girls, some competitions we had girls running the maximum number of events a runner was allowed to compete in. I’m not entirely sure that at the time I was aware of what we were really doing, but I do know the bond between my teammates and I was something that could not be penetrated.

When it came down to relays, I always ran my best times. I became so close to the girls on my team because we were so devoted to what we were doing that other kids would refer to us as a cult. I look back and realize a lot of my efforts were because of them.

I had a talent for running, a phenomenal coach, and truly devoted teammates. Out of it came something greater than what we could’ve ever expected. I set a bar for myself and wanted to reach it. I had found my passion at that point in my life. It consumed me.

I believe you know you’ve found your passion when you allow what you’re doing to change your life. You have to constantly think about it, you have to experience failure and then you have to wake up the next day getting right back into it. If you’re passionate about something, nothing can take that feeling away.

I mention my high school experience of running because I have yet to latch onto anything that has even come remotely close. I look forward to once again connecting with something that’ll not only change my life, but others around me as well.

“People don’t buy what you do, they buy why you do it.” If you don’t believe in yourself, chances are others will not either. Establish your driving force within, and progress from there.

Death.

The most earth-rattling, indescribable word.

How is it possible that it only takes a matter of seconds to never see someone again? Never talk to them again. Never see their life-changing smile again.

You try to come up with any and every possible reason why they were taken away from you, but you never find one that can heal the pain.

Everyone experiences all types of pain, from physical ache to heartbreak, but this type of pain is unbearable.

You can never escape it.

Sure, you learn how to suppress it on occasion, but that pain becomes a part of you.

It is a giant hole in your being, because the person you lost helped shape you.

I envy those who can find overwhelming peace by turning to the Lord in this unbearable time.

I wish I had that kind of relationship with God, to not have a doubt in my mind that everything was going to be okay. That the person I lost was the happiest they’ve ever been in the gates of heaven.

But the sad truth is that I do not know. I do doubt.

I don’t always understand.

At only 21 years old, how have I already experienced so much loss?

How was my best friend’s boyfriend so unhappy at the naïve age of 16 that he took his own life?

How could the most uplifting coach, mentor, and teacher be killed so suddenly, leaving behind his two little children without a dad?

How could three boys that were just about to embark on the best four years of their life encounter such a tragic incident, leaving one mentally handicapped and one gathering the community for a funeral?

How could everyone’s favorite Auburn Tiger, with the most God fearing family, no longer walk this earth?

And how could five beautiful college girls, that have made such a remarkable impact, have their futures cut short?

I have to believe everything happens for a reason.

I have to believe that heaven is one hell of a party.

I have to believe that these beautiful people served their purpose on earth, even in such a short time frame.

And I have to believe that eventually… we will all be okay.

*True author of the post chooses to remain anonymous*

As a child, I was always fascinated by the world around me. The way people interacted with one another. The way leaves crunched on the street under my rain boots. The way people’s eyes got red and puffy when they laughed so hard they cried. My knowledge was the culmination of my observations.

Growing up in the suburbs of Atlanta was amazing. I was exposed to a diverse array of cultural, religious, and socioeconomic lifestyles from a young age, and those things also molded my perspective of the world. I grew up with Indian, African-American, Chinese, Korean, Mexican, and plain old American friends by my side. I didn’t even put any brain power into thinking about this because I thought it was how everyone grew up.

Once I got to university, however, everything changed.

I attended a big SEC school full of totally new cultures. I was exposed to something I had never seen or experienced before: racism. Coming of age right beside the historic center of the civil rights movement, I’d of course heard stories of racial discrimination, but I never really saw or understood what that really meant.

I joined AIESEC at my university in order to feel like I could be surrounded by globally-minded individuals, rather than the right wing conservatives I had been meeting, but in fact I wasn’t so sure that I was even globally-minded myself. The organization I was in seemed culturally inclusive and great, but who was I to even talk about the world if I only knew my own backyard? I decided then that the solution to these issues I was encountering at my university was to leave and learn in a new environment instead.

Last semester, I made the decision to travel abroad, and I picked just about the most comfort-zone destination I could have chosen: London, England. Now before you judge me, let me explain. I grew up on Harry Potter. This decision was just ingrained in my blood. I had to go.

I spent a wonderful five months in England, and I had the opportunity to travel to a few other countries in Western Europe. I made some of the best friends of my life and had so many incredible adventures.

But beautiful, clean, safe, London wasn’t so heavenly after all. While there, I had the chance to experience an election season. During this time, I learned a decent amount about the UK’s political history of systemic racism. There wasn’t a black MP until very recent history.

The melting pot of cultures present in London can be at times subject to racist scrutiny from those with native English blood. The Syrian refugee crisis tested the cultural acceptance of Great Britain.

The beautiful city I had grown to love was full of issues just as my own university back home was.

For this reason, coming home to the USA was a turning point for me. I realized that there was no way that I could solve the world’s problems before solving those in my own community. I decided to run for the national staff of AIESEC in the United States to do a marketing role, and here I am. The reason why I’m here is because I believe that leadership is the solution. The skills and understanding that I developed in AIESEC before and during the time I spent abroad are directly correlated to my desire and ability to make a difference as a young person.

Recently, an alumni of AIESEC in the United States, Jonathan Butler, started a youth movement at The University of Missouri. He peacefully protested the systemic racism of his schools’ administration and he succeeded in removing two of the main instigators of the issues. The university’s environment is by no means fixed, but what he has done is channeled his anger and passion into change. He stood with his peers to change things on his campus, and he caused real, tangible decisions to be made.

I saw a racist community back home so I fled. When I arrived, I found the same issues in my so-called safe haven. Young people need to realize that the issues they face here are the same issues that young people face all across the world. Facilitating those spaces and channels of communication may seem easy via social media, but the power of young people standing together is unquestionable. If I can play a part in facilitating that global connection and turning it into action, I’ll feel like I did something worthwhile.

And that’s why I do what I do.

The world is constantly changing, especially the world we call home in the United States. Our economy, political views, social views, business ideas, and individual beliefs are influenced by change, and more importantly those who initiate it.

The rest of the world surrounding us is influenced by its own change. Therefore, change is not the same for everyone or every country. Some accept change, and others may not, however it is evident that it has a firm grasp on how we perceive.

In our economy, people are accepting that capitalism should be replaced by controlled socialism; people like Bernie Sanders and those who follow him. Bernie Sanders is an initiator of change. He holds views that he believes will benefit the economy; views that are very different from the traditional sense of capitalism. Donald Trump, the leading Republican candidate, is obviously a change from the traditional sense of Republican/ conservative belief. Although he may hold some conservative ideas, it is clear that, as he leads the Republican polls, he is also one that initiates change in our economy and view of politics. He accepts that certain things must be subject to change, which connects the ideas of contradiction and change.

Contradiction and change can go hand in hand. Both ideas are viewed in different lights, but technically they can mean the same thing.

For example, Bernie Sanders would like to bring socialist ideas to a purely capitalist country- is this change or contradiction? Donald Trump is changing the way that people understand politics through control of the media. He is contradicting the idea of professionalism, and how our presidential candidates represent themselves and their parties. He, quite literally, has every Republican candidate battling against him because his views are contradictory to traditional conservatism. But people follow him, and they believe in him. Now how do contradiction and change tie into each other, and our topic of a Level 5 leader? And what defines a level 5 leader?

A level 5 leader is the perfect contradiction. They are one who accepts change, but also holds views that must remain to benefit everyone. They are one who lives their life both professionally and personally. They are one who produces ideas that primarily benefit their own predicament, but does so in order to benefit those around them. This sounds like a positive contradiction, but contradiction has always been viewed in a negative light.

Chuck Blakeman discusses a change in how businesses can be run in a Tedx MileHigh lecture. The change he talks about is from an industrial point of view to what he calls “participation.” Many people may find this change contradictory to the idea of capitalism that we, as an economy, so desperately follow. For example, leaders are defined by how well their ideas benefit everyone within and outside the company; not by position or title that has been given. “Participation,” Chuck says, is not having standard work hours, but working when it is needed to benefit the business. Work becomes a group process, not an individual job. The “Participation” business not only uses a Level 5 leader to its full potential, but does well in training others to become leaders themselves.

Standard leaders of corporations today resort to traditional hierarchies of leadership with strictly defined jobs for individuals. Blakeman initiates change in his lecture by innovating the way that people can work to not only benefit the company by reaching optimal output through groups, but also by redefining how an individual can become a leader inside and outside of the workplace.

As individuals learn how to benefit each other, and not just themselves, all will learn how to accept change by understanding others’ perspectives of the world of business and how it can be run.

In conclusion, change and contradiction have never been simple. Implementing laws in politics is an annual, if not a decadal process. Our economy is structured by traditional business, businesses that have been failing us as an economy. Other, thriving businesses, like Apple and Google, have begun changing the idea of a workplace, however the traditional sense of work remains. Many of these businesses go into bankruptcy due to bad leadership. The idea of a Level 5 leader explains that it does not take one individual to lead a group, but it takes one individual to teach how others can lead groups of their own.

As we become more capable of leadership as individuals, our economy and population will more strongly represent the leader-esque nation we have chosen to become, and continue to be.

“You’re so strong! You inspire me.”  From a young age, I was told these words.  They followed me to the grocery store, school, the track, and the gym. 

Strong was what I was supposed to be when I ate breakfast or went for a walk.  I existed to exemplify “human perseverance” to those around me. I had to smile—to radiate positivity and pure joy no matter what I was feeling.  If not, I would be disabled and unpleasant.

I could not shed my spastic muscles or my dysfluent speech, so naturally, I had to be pleasant.

Able-bodies like it when disabled people exercise because if a disabled person can run or lift weight, there is no fathomable reason why an able-bodied person cannot.  Any time I stepped into a gym, people would exclaim, “Seeing you here motivates me!  You work so hard.”  Even after two hours of exercise left my body limp, people would praise me.  I was strong.  I was positive.  I was exactly how I was supposed to be.

When my mom was diagnosed with cancer, I was “strong” for never bringing it up or complaining.  I was “strong” for going to school and graduating.  I was “strong” for going away to college.  I was an example for everyone else; everyone ought to follow my lead.

Less than a month into college, I was tired of feigning strength.

Instead, I devoted my time to becoming weak.  I ate as little as possible, stayed up all hours of the night, and tested my body’s limits with less than a glass of water a day.  Of course, I did not consciously realize that I was weakening my body and mind in order to rebel against society’s expectations for me, and that was not the “cause” of my eating disorder, yet it contributed to my emotional instability.

Within a few weeks, my floor was covered in clumps of dry, gray-blonde hair despite being vacuumed incessantly.  The skin of my hands became scaly and would peel off if I spent more than 15 minutes outside.  My stomach growled until I could not distinguish the pangs of hunger from nausea.  My muscles cramped every time I sat down, and if I sat for too long, my legs would go numb.  My voice became hoarse from forced vomiting, and my fingers were decorated with teeth marks.  My vision blurred, and my head felt light.

After six weeks of eating disorder treatment and nearly another full semester of school, I still struggle with finding strength.  I tend to be strong for the sake of pleasing others instead of being strong for myself.  I forget that even the strongest people need rest, an outlet for their emotions, and fuel in the form of food and water.  This, I have learned, is not a sign of weakness, but a sign that I am still learning.