I am a mental health advocate. A stigma fighter. I am the mental health community administrator for the Wish Dish Platform. President of the Loyola University MD chapter of Active Minds. Yet, I struggle with my own mental health. It’s not that I expect others to believe that I don’t struggle with my anxiety and depression from time to time, but I certainly don’t think people know how incredibly much I have been struggling since the loss of my uncle.

I don’t know what the typical relationship of a girl and her uncle usually is, but I can tell you that my relationship with my uncle was anything but typical. I grew up in a very large, close, Italian family. The holidays were always my favorite because I got to spend the day with my 50+ family members on my dad’s side of the family. I was lucky enough to grow up in a family where I knew that I could call any of my relatives at any time, and they would be by my side in minutes.

I also had the privilege to live next door to my Uncle Mike and Aunt Lona since I was 8 years old. I would walk next door when I was bored, or when I needed someone to talk to. I spent more time with my aunt and uncle than most kids spend with their parents. I grew up with not only one set of parents, but two.

Uncle Mike and Aunt Lona have been two of my biggest role models since before I could remember. My dad’s parents and siblings immigrated here from Italy when they were young. My grandfather spent five years working in America and building a life for his wife and four kids back in Italy. My aunts and uncles had been through a lot in their young lives. They lost one of their siblings to cancer on the journey to America. Once they got to America, they had to build a life for themselves, learn English, go to school, and work to help support their family. Yet, none of this hinders my dad or his siblings in any way.

If anything, it made them work harder, love more deeply, and appreciate what they had.

My Uncle Mike took these ideals to heart when he met the love of his life in ninth grade. At age 14, my Uncle Mike met his wife, and my Aunt Lona. They were perfect for each other. They always knew what the other needed, kept each other in line, and helped each other and rhea ones around them grow. I aspire to find a love as deep and as right as theirs was. I looked up to them both in every possible way. They weren’t simply my aunt and uncle; they were my godparents, my next-door neighbors, my role models, and my second parents. It was hard when they moved to South Carolina when I was a senior in high school. They were the first in the family to move outside of Maryland, and I took it pretty hard. But, I did have a sweet new vacation spot.

I thought that them moving to South Carolina meant that they would miss out on a lot if important moments in the lives of my sisters and I, but I was wrong. They flew up for every family party, prom, graduation, and most birthdays. They visited often, and we would always pick up right where we left off.

I had never met two individuals more loving and understanding than my aunt and uncle.

That is what made it even more difficult when my Uncle Mike suddenly passed away over a month ago. What made it even worse, was that it was extremely unexpected. Coming home for that weekend and seeing everyone in my driveway, I instantly knew something was wrong, but I never thought to expect what I heard next. I sat on my deck surrounded by family, and felt nothing. I cried as my aunt and uncle, first and second cousins, and other showed up at my house to share in the grief that we all felt. But I couldn’t feel it. Not until days later, or even when I saw my uncle laying in his casket.

I have been through a lot in my young life. I have watched my mom go through breast cancer and brain surgery, saw the emptiness in my sister when she lost her first baby, lost a close friend to suicide, and have been without grandparents since high school. Yet, this loss cut deep. I didn’t know what to do or what to say. I either couldn’t feel anything at all, or felt so much that I thought I would explode. As this was all happening, two of my best friends were having the time of their lives abroad. It felt like my world stopped, and everyone else was doing great. I was drowning.

I was comforting everyone else and staying strong. But I also fell behind in school, drank to numb the pain, isolated myself from others, and was altogether miserable. My depression was at an all-time high, as was my anxiety. I had lost one of the best individuals in my life, and I couldn’t stand to be a part of my own reality.

I knew he wouldn’t want me to be this way, not again. I finally began to talk about it. About how much it hurt, sometimes so much that I couldn’t move.

I talked about the good times I had with him, the lessons he had taught me, and how I would give anything to hear him say “hello dear” one more time as he hopped out of his chair to greet me. I was ungrateful. I knew how much he meant to me, but I had always thought he would be there, like he always had been. The last time I saw him, I rushed my time with him to go be with someone who didn’t truly love me. I didn’t get to say goodbye.

I was expecting him to be at my house waiting for me that day when I arrived home. He would tell me about the beers he drank the night before, the conversations he had with some of the people he loved the most in this world. What I got instead was the look of grief and terror on my dad’s face, and the knowledge that my life would never again be the same. But though it still to this day hurts more than I thought anything ever could, I prevail. I live my life in honor of my uncle. I do what I can to make myself and the world around me a better and more loving place, because after all, that’s what he was most proud of me for doing.

Every family has their issues. Every family fights. But as I begin the holiday season without the greatest man I had ever known, I ask that you forget the past. Forget all the bad times, and work for the good ones. I ask that you hug everyone in your life, tell them just how much they mean to you, and appreciate every second you have by their side. I loved my uncle with all my heart and spent most of my life with him, but still wish I could have just five more minutes with him. One more hug. So, this holiday season, love your friends and your family with all you have. Because unfortunately, you truly never know when it could be the last chance you’ll ever get.

In the midst of breakups, non-stop drama from everyday life, the dreaded sophomore slump, and the quickly approaching future, it can be super hard to be optimistic. It’s difficult to see the light at the end of the tunnel when you feel like the walls are closing in – it seems like there’s no way to control and silence negative thoughts coming from almost every single outlet. It may seem like you’re alone and nobody cares, but believe me, someone does.

I never believed in the concept of sophomore slump until I experienced it.

I used to believe that I was the creator of my destiny, and the way that I handled obstacles defined who I was. After recovering from the stress of finals, I came to the realization that I didn’t know who I was or who I wanted to be. I had hit the sophomore slump.

GRE books, online tests, and study tips suddenly filled my desk. Conversations about graduate school and the future only perpetuated the overwhelming feelings of anxiety and fear. After coming to the realization that change is inevitable, and that you can’t control everything, I decided to find myself again.

Finding yourself can’t be defined – it’s different for everyone. There’s a few steps that I took and have been taking to become happy again. Don’t get me wrong, it hasn’t been easy – and sometimes the bad days win, but, in the end, it is all about discovering who I was meant to be.

Step 1: Self-Destruction

R.M. Drake once said, “Sometimes to self-discover, you must self-destruct.” I believe that getting out of a slump requires starting with a blank slate – getting down to the basics.

This step is mostly characterized by crying, angry rants, and lots and lots of ice cream. There is no way I would be able to get to where I am today without all of the support I received from my loving friends.

Step 2: Beginning Recovery

After you’ve given yourself the time to wallow in sorrow, it’s time to get up and start being a functioning human again. Time to go about your routine and interact with people, although you may still be feeling pain. This is probably the hardest step, but it gets the ball rolling.

The key here is distraction, but also understanding that it’s okay not to be okay. Rather than repressing emotions that didn’t seem desirable, I chose to embrace them, understand that they were present, and eventually I learned to cope with the feelings that came along with them.

Step 3: Embrace Your Flaws

Clearly nobody is perfect, but something that a lot of people (myself included) struggle with is owning up to imperfections. This does not imply that every little idiosyncrasy needs to be fixed immediately, but that those that can be controlled should be worked on.

Something that I’ve learned, especially in the past year, is that certain people may bring out sides of you that you weren’t even aware of. If someone brings out qualities that aren’t desirable and don’t show your true colors – cut them out of your life. Nobody needs toxic people that encourage the worst version of yourself.

Step 4: Find What Makes You Happy

This step seems pretty simple – do the things you love. But the beauty of attempting to start from a blank slate is that you might find a few new passions. In the midst of confusion and anger that fraction life crises bring, I decided to travel and visit friends. Driving and escaping every day routines gave me a much needed break from reality, but also people that could listen to me without bias.

Step 5: Cut out Toxins

While finding newfound beauty and reminiscing in old treasures, it’s also important to avoid toxic people, situations, or places. The most prevalent challenge in this step is realizing that not everything is black or white – not everything or everyone is absolutely good or bad. The key to finding yourself and ending the crisis is reevaluating relationships and seeing how the person, place, or situation helps you grow. There are a few reasons to cut people off: (1) people who do not benefit you in any way, (2) people who don’t give you what you need and deserve, and (3) people who don’t want you anymore.

Step 6: Learning to Love Yourself Again

This goes hand in hand with the first step. In order to become a better person and move forward in a life crisis, you have to love yourself and be confident. Learning to be independent is the first step of many to achieving confidence. This also takes a lot of time – for me, this has been a life-long struggle for me personally. Find what makes you get up in the morning and start appreciating the little things.

While I’m still on the journey to truly being happy and getting out of my sophomore slump, I’ve made huge progress. Nobody is saying that this happens instantly, or that you’re supposed to have everything figured out. I’m on the road to happiness, and I couldn’t be more excited for my beautiful future.

I was a boxer in the United States Army who fought welterweight. I’ve never been a quitter, but one fight made me prove myself more than any other. I had won my first three fights in the sub-novice division. I graduated to the open class. That’s when my troubles began. No one told me I was going to fight the man who had just been named all army champ.

We fought three, three minutes rounds. The gloves and the trunks sported the company logo, Everlast. We fought with 8 oz. gloves with no tape on our knuckles, only over our wrists – a far cry from today’s fighters. They wear headgear that looks like space helmets and they fight with bigger gloves.

From round one his ruby-red gloves pounded out a merciless beat against my head. I wasn’t marching to a different drummer – I was the drum. A cut opened over my left eye.

A Rorschach test pattern of rich, red blood splattered on my silver and black trunks. The bell rang. End of round one.

I went back to my corner. My trainer poured water over my head and put a Q-Tip with some coagulant on it and held it against my cut. I still wear the scar to this very day. Then he smeared Vaseline over my cut and face. I was told to stay away and jab.

The bell rang for round two. It was more of the same. I guess the ref could have stopped the fight, but it was only round two. He asked me if I had had enough. I shook my head no. I had some will left. The bell rang to end round two. I slowly walked back to my corner bleeding from the nose. My eye cut was reopened.

“Son, you gotta throw more punches,” my trainer said. “I think I want this fight more than you do. Want me to throw in the towel?”
“No way,” I said. The ref came to the corner.
“Want to continue?”
“Yes,” I said. “I got to last out the three rounds. It’s a matter of pride.”

The bell rings for round three, the final round. We walk to the center of the ring and touch gloves.

He continues his assault on my face and body. It would be so easy to quit, to take a knee, and make this nightmare end.

But then I think to myself, this isn’t just a fight between two men. This is a fight for who I am and what I stand for. To quit, I’d be quitting on myself. This was my self-esteem on the line. I had to last for three more minutes.

I duck my head and charge into my tormentor like a raging bull. He throws an uppercut that hits my chest so hard it makes it feel like my heart stopped. Head still down, trying to salvage some desperate glory, I see an elastic band on his pristine trucks.

In a small rectangle I read the black logo letters of the company name, Everlast. I will last. The bell mercifully rings. Of course he wins by a decision. But he couldn’t get me off of my feet – a moral victory and a win for me.

I faced a superior force and remained standing. Ironically, it was my opponent that showed me the sign, a shibboleth that gave me the courage to never quit.

Perhaps knowledge can sometimes be born from pain. Today that all seems like a lifetime ago, but even now when things are looking rough and the world’s beating up on me I ask myself: “How can I ever last?” I think, for only a split second, how easy it would be to take a knee, lie down, and quit.

Then I recall another dark and testing moment from my past. And I thank my adversary for the valuable lesson losing taught me – how to win. Slowly I say the word to myself, Everlast. Now aloud I sing out my battle cry, EVERLAST.

Suddenly, anything and everything standing in front of me, while yet formidable, somehow seems a little more manageable. And I charge once again, like a raging bull, straight ahead into my tormentor, knowing I’ll never quit.

What’s your vision for next week? The next semester? The next year? For your life? All of these questions were posed to me while in attendance at the LeaderShape Institute retreat in the 2013 summer with 64 other Auburn University students. These were difficult questions for me to answer at the time, but now I have a vision for my life. 

Originally from Roswell, Georgia, I attended a small Catholic high school called Blessed Trinity. Being a private school kid almost my whole life, I had the wonderful blessing of going from 1st grade to high school knowing about 80% of the same people.

Naturally a tight knit community, you know everyone’s story, what their weekend plans are, and all too much about their entire family. In hindsight, I think it is what made my childhood and teenager years unique in a good way. Despite knowing too much sometimes, we all had each other’s backs.

We were a geographic community, a religious community, and one big family. I still think to this day it is part of the reason why I fell in love with my soon-to-be alma mater – Auburn University.

I bought into the concept of “The Auburn Family” and what it means to look at your classmate on your left and on your right and give a simple look, smile, or nod that meant you had their back because we all believe in this university and what it stands for. Many argue it’s a marketing ploy, and I will argue against that until the day I die. It’s real and it’s so difficult to explain without experiencing it for yourself.

Moving onward, freshman year was overwhelming. New place, new people, and new culture. Being on campus and finding my niche within my new home was exhausting. Perseverance is what kept me in the game.

Perseverance to work hard at everything I do and push myself to be a better man in Christ and a better man in society. My practice of this “attitude” has helped me be who I am today. I had the vision to work hard and be a better man. However, that vision I had for myself at Auburn took a bit of a turn at the conclusion of my freshman year.

Eluding to my earlier reference of a tight community at home, it was always (and still is) very common practice for me to get together with my high school friends every time I went back home. Whether it be a long break or just a weekend, we became our little family all over again.

However, our “family” took a big blow at the end of freshman year. One of our close friends, Keller, took his own life his first year at LSU.

Questions swirled in the air and the solutions weren’t obvious. It was an unexpected blow after a difficult freshman year. Our little family back home moved on after awhile, but I was still confused and lost for answers. Towards the end of sophomore year I begin to do some research on student-led mental health organizations at college campuses.

Me advertising for Active Minds

An organization catches my eye: Active Minds Inc. For those who do not know, Active Minds Inc. is an international non-profit organization that works to “utilize the student voice to change the conversation about mental health on college campuses.”

A light bulb went off in my head, Auburn needed this…heck, every campus needed something like this! How difficult would this be to get set up? *cue LeaderShape Institute logo*

LeaderShape is a one-week leadership development retreat that gives young leaders the opportunity to learn more about themselves and other leaders at their respective universities. LeaderShape changed my perspective leadership and the students that make up Auburn.

After attending the retreat and personally reflecting I knew what I had to focus on.

I was going to start an Active Minds chapter at Auburn to raise mental health awareness.

So right there the work and the vision began. The chapter officially launched in September 2013. The vision had finally become a reality. The sense of confidence and pride I had knowing my hard work and determination had turned into something tangible was incredible.

I am proud to say that our Active Minds chapter is now two years strong. We’ve made name for ourselves on campus through fundraisers, walks, outreach events, information meetings, and working with university officials to help others and even save lives by providing hope to those who may not know where to find it.

Starting an organization was not something my freshman-self thought I could do, but it gave me an insight into what I could do in the future. As Mark Twain once said, “The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.”

I love this quote because I think it says a lot to the importance of establishing goals, dreams, and your vision for your life. Yes, your vision may take a few modifications, or it might even change completely by tomorrow. If you set up a vision for success no one can hold you back.

Make that reality one of hope, happiness, and kindness. I’ve been more conscious of trying to do this every day and I believe the quality of my life has improved because of it. Wake up and set your vision for the day and ask how can I make this vision a reality.

I’ve been blessed with many opportunities in my life and I’ve had my fair share of failures too. Active Minds was an opportunity and a vision for me and I am forever grateful to have been able to serve the university through it.

Now it’s about time for me to start focusing on my vision for post-grad life. I’m not sure what it may hold just yet, but I’m ready to take on life’s challenges to the best of my ability and I hope you do the same. So ask yourself, what is your vision for tomorrow?

Everyone has a moment in their life when their whole perspective of the world changes. Their plans, their dreams, their everyday life, and even the people they surround themselves with begin to change. A little over a year ago, I had my moment.

During my sophomore year of college, I followed college protocol by getting involved with some type of philanthropy on campus in order to build my resume and impress future employers. I happened upon a cause that was convenient for my schedule and signed up for a week long summer camp called Camp Kesem. Little did I know that signing up with this random camp would change my life forever.

Camp Kesem is a free week-long summer camp for children whose parents have been affected by cancer.

Its mission is to support six to sixteen-year-olds through and beyond their parent’s cancer and family hardships. This camp gives these kids a chance to escape the fears and worries that comes along with their parent’s illness.

Most importantly, it also gives them an opportunity to form a community with kids that understand what they are going through.

My first day as a counselor transported me to a different world. For starters, everybody, including campers and counselors, take on camp names. My camp name is “Beluga” because of my love and great knowledge of whales. Another unique quality about the Camp Kesem world is that everybody is legitimately nice and supportive to each other.

I had never seen such a cohesive group of people before.

Everyone had smiling faces, and cheered each other on throughout the games and activities that filled the long days.

Between hiking, swimming in the lake, participating in the Messy Games (everyone plays games involving paint, shaving cream, and other messy items), and other amazing activities, all the campers and counselors were just being kids.

This camp was a place where everybody could truly be yourself. If you wanted to talk about whales all day, then you could. If you wanted to live out your dreams of becoming an amateur cup stacker, then that was also a possibility. If you wanted to lip sync to your favorite Taylor Swift song in front of 100+, then that dream could become a reality.

If you want to be transported to a magical world away from daily burden and become a kid again, Camp Kesem is the place for you.

During the day, the camp is involved with non-stop fun activities. Before bed, things begin to get a little deeper. Every night in the cabins, we have cabin chat dedicated to giving the campers the opportunity to share whatever they want.

Most people speak about their favorite parts of the day, others talk about how grateful they are to spend another week with their camp family, and yet others find comfort in having the chance to share their experiences with their parents’ cancer and the effects it has had on their lives.

A good number discuss their constant worries about their parent’s health. A few talk about how much they miss their mom or dad. These sincere and heartfelt cabin chats usually led to the campers expressing how much they loved Camp Kesem because they have friends who finally understand their everyday struggles.

Day by day, this camp changed my life for the better.

The most impactful day at camp for me was the day we had Empowerment. Empowerment is a ceremony at all Camp Kesem chapters where all of the campers and counselors get together to share what Camp Kesem means to them.

Before this ceremony, we had empower hour in which everyone in the cabin said something nice to everyone in the cabin. Then we got in a circle and tapped the shoulders of people who had touched our lives throughout the week in different ways. Empowerment took everything to a whole new level.

Hearing campers share their experiences with their parent’s cancer brought tears to my eyes. But what impacted me more was the unconditional support and love that was shared between the campers and counselors at this point. When my campers shared their stories, I completely lost it.

One camper, one the nicest kids at camp, opened up about how difficult it was to see his mom sick some mornings and be unable to get out bed.

He also said that everyone thinks of him as the strong sibling because he is the oldest, but he shared how his younger sister is a rock that supports him through their mother’s cancer. Another camper spent an hour talking to me about his father’s battle with cancer and how he was afraid of losing him one day because the unknowns of cancer.

This camper’s story really put my whole life into perspective, It truly showed me how much pain these kids were going through, but their struggles weren’t as really addressed because they don’t have physical symptoms of their endeavors.

These fourteen year olds had been through so much, yet they had so much more maturity than I could ever fathom having at their age.

These kids taught me what true strength means.

They taught me how to truly support someone through their personal struggles. The whole camp showed me that you do not have to know someone for a long time to be able to love them and support them unconditionally. I’m grateful for Camp Kesem for a million reasons.

For giving me an amazing outlet to give back, for allowing me to meet some of the most incredible people at UGA, for showing me the beauty out of the darkest times. But mostly, for letting me meet some of the strongest, most mature, and incredible kids who have forever changed my life.

I kesem to support them through the most difficult times of their lives, to empower them beyond their parent’s cancer, to love them for their true selves, to create a second family that will always be with them, and to help spread the Camp Kesem magic that has the power to change the lives of whoever it touches.

I’ll be the first one to say, I absolutely hate how much emphasis our generation puts on race. No matter the issue, somehow being black or white gets painted into the picture. Nevertheless, race continues to be a significant issue in our society, especially in the southeast.

With the riots in Baltimore as well as fraternity and sorority recruitment discrimination, this past year or two has proven to be a testament to how little our country has progressed since the civil rights movement.

Before coming to Georgia, I went to school at the University of Alabama for two years. I joined a fraternity and quickly realized how much race played into the school. Whether it was rush, electing the SGA President, or even the Homecoming Queen, the issue of white and black was omnipresent. After transferring to UGA, I saw a little less emphasis, but the issue still remained.

Let me clarify one more time, I hate talking about race.

But perhaps most importantly, I don’t want anyone to think that I’m proclaiming to be some sort of race expert, because I’m not. I’m about as mono-racial as it gets (very white). I just want to examine a provoking question that I know you’ve all heard before. One that I’ve been particularly interested in since I was a little kid.

Now, before you close out of this page, hear me out. This is not a question about black vs. white. In my opinion, it’s something much more hopeful and it’s something that equally benefits African Americans, Caucasians, Asians, or whatever you choose to bubble on standardize testing.

“Are we alone?”

It’s a question that has haunted scientists, philosophers, religious leaders, kings, and even a young boy like myself. In such an incomprehensibly vast universe, who are we to say we’re special? Who are we to say there’s no one else?

NASA Kepler scientists have estimated that there are nearly 11 billion Earth-sized planets in the Milky Way galaxy orbiting a sun much like our own. That’s our galaxy alone – one of 100 billion others.

It is without a doubt that our generation will be the first to gaze upon life born outside of everything we have ever known. Yes, it may be small and yes, it may seem underwhelming at the time. But we must be reminded; even humans start very small.

The discovery of life outside of Earth will challenge the validity of religions, introduce new questions in the world of science, and, my personal favorite, bond our species unlike ever before. See this new perspective will provide a cosmic calibration for Earth – one that removes the filters of gender, disability, and, in this case, race.

I believe the discovery of life outside of Earth will create the most valuable form of discrimination our world has ever known. No longer will we divide based on arbitrary characteristics we inherited at birth, but instead we are seen as one species all born on the same planet.

Crazy right? I agree. Let’s draw out a scenario and maybe that will help you connect more. Let’s imagine two colonies of fire ants stationed a few feet away from one another. You’re outside one day and accidentally kick a soccer ball over both ant mounds thus destroying them. What happens next? Do the ants from pile 1 see the ants from pile 2 and refuse to interact? No, they both attack the threat by placing survival above colony bias. (No ants were harmed in the telling of this fictional example).

Yes, we are probably a long way from interacting with intelligent life beyond Earth.

However, preparation is usually a large piece of the success puzzle. I don’t know about you, but I’d love to see our species last another few millennia. Just as we saw in the ant example, survival is often a function of numbers.

It’s about collaboration based on what you can contribute, not where you’re from. I truly hope that our world will see this once we discover life elsewhere. It’s something we need to evolve as a species and pass the threshold of an advanced civilization. One that removes social prejudice, and instead relies on observation, ambition, and unity.

I think we can do this. I really do. Humanity has a historically funny way of surviving and learning from its mistakes. That day will take time and it will take more mistakes. However, that day silently beckons. Let us seek it.

“The truth may be puzzling. It may take some work to grapple with. It may be counterintuitive. It may contradict deeply held prejudices. It may not be consonant with what we desperately want to be true. But our preferences do not determine what is true.”

– Carl Sagan

Moments of impact. Impressions. Emotions. All of these things define us as human beings. We have fears, wants, and needs. But what happens when an entire human population is wiped out and you are the only one left standing? How do you grow and develop? The point is, other humans shape us into the individuals we are by interacting with us.

Have you ever wondered about how the people around you on an everyday basis develop us into who we are today? If this person never talked to you and said what they said, would you be different?

These are the questions I ask myself on a daily basis. I realize there are so many people I have met in passing that have impacted me in so many ways, that I may not have realized at the time. It’s a little frightening but then again it’s extraordinary, the people we meet.

Moments of impact. From the second we were born, life was taking its shape around us.

We cried and our mothers soothed us. A moment of impact. Our parents started it all. Our parents took us under their wing and created morals and values instilled in us. Many of us carry those morals and values with us to this day. But what made us who we are? Everyone. Everything. We soaked it all in. We saw what our eyes and minds allowed us to see. We experienced moments of impact. Walking down the street you are surrounded by individuals that are each unique in their own way.

We study them, without realizing. I’m guilty of people watching, but I do it because I am intrigued by styles, movements and voices. Before I know it, I’m shopping and I see something that I like because it looked good on the girl I passed on the street. That girl impacted me. Yes, it’s slight in its own way, but the smallest things create the big things and the big things create the small things.

For example, God created the Earth. This big thing created all of us, and caused us to make lives, meet people, experience and love for a limited time. We have so many opportunities to create memories and learn our purpose, learn about ourselves and where we are meant to be, and how we are meant to develop.

Impressions. First impressions. Last impressions. Impressions where you haven’t even spoken to the person and you already know who they are… or so you think. I tend to give everyone a chance. Even if the first impression is hard to look past, I try to give a chance.

You don’t know what someone’s story is. You don’t know what that person has been through.

Don’t be so quick to judge, you may be surprised what you are missing out on. Emotions. I will be the first person to say, that I am emotional. I feel everything. If someone is crying, I can feel his or her pain. My heart is my biggest strength and my biggest weakness. I want to help everyone. I want to save everyone. I want to protect. I want to make everyone happy.

It’s a difficult life trying to do all of those things. I drown in my emotions, I become overwhelmed and I feel alone. I have struggled with my emotions for as long as I can remember, but they weren’t created on their own. I was affected by past relationships, family issues, stress from school, and trying to make everyone happy all the time. Everyone has experienced something, and everyone has developed differently and matured differently because of those experiences with those interactions. Here are the ones that have affected me the most. I’m sure many of you can relate.

I’ve had a very fortunate life growing up.

My parents are well off. No, we aren’t rich, but we are able to do things that not many families can say they do. We absolutely love traveling together. Growing up wasn’t always that easy though. When I was very young, I remember sitting in my sister’s room listening to the screams and shouts coming from my parent’s bedroom weekly. It continued for years and one day it just stopped. It hasn’t really been the same since then.

They have continued to work on their relationship over the years and luckily, things have gotten much better. There are many things I know I am unaware of, and that also plays its role. I respect it, but it’s been rough over the years, even awkward to come home sometimes. It wasn’t always a healthy relationship, and it took a huge toll on me and how I viewed relationships.

Because of them, I really don’t like fighting. Not that anyone likes fighting, but it scares me. So I always fight with myself and my own interests in efforts to keep the other person happy so I can avoid confrontation. The problem with that is, I get stepped on, over and over. I get taken advantage of. People refer to me as “too nice.” It’s both a blessing and a curse.

On the other side of things, my mom has taught me to never give up by pushing me again and again to achieve my goals, even when I was a pain in the butt with my math homework. I hated school. I never wanted to do my homework but she always pushed me. I ended up with the highest GPA out of my entire family. I graduated college and am pursuing PT school because she never gave up on me.

She taught me to let go and embrace my weaknesses. She taught me how to do things on my own, to be independent. My dad taught me how to play sports, which became a huge part of my life. I played soccer all throughout high school and ended up being a huge part of the team.

He has and will always be my number one fan. He taught me how to sing, and how to write. He taught me how to put my emotions into words. My parents are incredible human beings, and I wouldn’t want anyone else to have raised me, because they did an amazing job with my sister and I. We’re doing all right.

The Journey

I only have one sister, but I can tell you that she’s been there for me since day one.

I call her my younger older sister because she acts younger than me, but she’s older. Makes sense right? I’ve looked up to her for as long as I can remember. She’s pursued her dreams from the day she was born, and not many people can say that. I was always jealous of the way academics came so naturally to her.

She barely studied and would walk out of a test with an A, no problem. Me? I had to study for weeks, and would still make a B. But because of her, I pushed myself all through college and I was academically successful. She taught me how to be blunt.

You may hurt someone’s feelings, but it’s better to be completely honest than to hide the truth.

Being honest is the best way to live, and that’s one of the biggest reasons trust is so important to me. Because I know she would never lie to me, so nobody else should either.

The one who damaged you, the one that created trust issues. They messed with you because they knew you liked them. You fell for it because you thought they liked you. Playing games is damaging, and hurtful. People don’t realize that you are affected the rest of your life because of one incident. I don’t trust many people fully. I hide a lot. I don’t open up often. I’m afraid. All because of the one that damaged me before I even knew what love was.

Your first fake love, the one you thought you fell in love with. Your relationship was really great, and lots of fun, and suddenly you love them right? Wrong. You think you do. Until it really happens and you realize you just liked them a lot. They taught you how to be in a relationship for a long time, and they taught you a basis of what you are looking for in a compatible partner.

They gave you some pretty good memories and they helped you get over the one who damaged you. You broke up for a silly reason but you still talk every once in awhile as friends, because you never really loved them, so you can still be friends.

Your first love, the one who made it hard to breathe. The one who made you feel weak. The one who brought emotions out that you did not know were possible. We dated for four and a half years, and I truly thought I was going to marry him. My whole world was wrapped around his fingers, and he knew it. So naturally, he got away with doing some things that didn’t settle well with me. But I was in love. I had a connection to him that was unbreakable.

When we were together, nobody could break us.

He never said no to anything, so we spent a lot of time doing things outside instead of just sitting around. When he was gone though, I cried all the time. We were long distance for three of those years, and I can tell you that I never felt more alone in my life when he was gone. We fought often about communication and about visiting with each other. He went to an army school, so his time was limited, but I was never the priority. We spoke for thirty minutes a day, and he often complained that it was a chore to talk to me.

There was a lot of pain built up, because I never understood why someone would want to be apart for as long as we were when we were so perfect when we were together. I still don’t understand. We planned on attending the same school this upcoming fall, or so I thought, but recently found out that he had other plans and he never really planned on going to the same place as me.

I ended the relationship quickly after that. It was a rough breakup. The best thing that came out of that relationship though, was strength. I had to be strong every single day. I had to fight, every single day. I learned that I can handle a lot. I learned who I am, and I learned my worth. I learned what I want out of a relationship, and what I deserve.

Your best friends—you’ve been friends for years. You tell them everything. You actually trust them with your life and they are probably the one person that knows you inside and out. You may have more than one, like I do. I have three, and they are all extremely different.

Each of them brings out different sides in my personality, and each of them supports me and challenges me in different ways.

They have gone through everything with you, from breakups to relationships. You tell them things that they don’t need to know, but you do anyway because it’s something to talk about. You never get bored talking to them, and sometimes you wonder if you are in a relationship with them because you tell them more than you would tell your boyfriend. They helped me through more than I can name, and their impact has helped shape me into the person I am today.

The one that gave you hope again, the one you randomly meet that throws you off your feet. The one that doesn’t exist and the one that you have trouble finding words for. You thought you met the best match out there for you with your first love, but this one makes you question and it terrifies you. They impacted you when you least expected it.

The timing wasn’t right, but they gave you hope, and that’s all you needed.

You were at an all-time low, and thought surely you were going to end up alone, but they proved to you that there are others out there for you. Best part is, they don’t even realize what they mean to you and that’s okay. They don’t need to, but you can smile and walk away from them knowing that they gave you a hopeful chance and you can be confident in knowing that you aren’t alone. You don’t know where life will take you with them, whether that’s a consistent lifelong friendship, or maybe something more. The chapter remains open, and sometimes they stay that way.

A moment of impact. Impressions. Emotions. We are defined by the people around us. We are impacted with negative and positive light. We overcome it. We become stronger. We fail. We try again. We examine our surroundings. We soak it all in.

We meet people and they shape us. We see people, and they shape us. We hear people, and they shape us. Our choices are chosen because of experience. Our choices are chosen because of what we hear, see and think. Our choices are chosen because of the people we meet.

A lot of perks come with understanding and being one with your family heritage. Those perks include a solid sense of self, a feeling of uniqueness in this huge sea of American pride, and even pressure. I was blessed with the opportunity to have lived with my family in Jamaica from ages four to seven after leaving my American birthplace, Miami.

In Jamaica, I remember learning Patois very quickly after being teased by classmates for my American accent. Everyone understood English, but I stood out for speaking it in a foreign way. I remember my great grandfather making kites completely by hand for my cousins and me every year for Festival. I remember on my first day at St. Ann’s Bay Primary School, my aunt knelt in front of me to say goodbye before she left to catch a plane to America where she would create a better life for us.

The last time I visited Jamaica was this past Christmas.

The time prior to that was in 2007 for my great grandfather’s funeral. This time, I explored my old stomping grounds a lot more than during the time of Grandpa’s funeral. For the first time, I got to see the very home where my late great grandmother resided on Garden Tennant Rd.

I was also able to visit my old home, where I grew up before my aunt left for America, which was my grandmother’s house. She built it before she left for America. Life in that house was great. I lived there with my aunt and my late great grandfather.

When I think about the ultimate carefree time in my life, I think about life in this house. Mentally, this is my happy place. From getting a codfish bone stuck in my throat one Sunday morning and eating as many boiled dumplings as I could to get it to pass (and failing), to throwing my teeth on the roof when they fell out (that’s our tradition, no toothfairy), I learned how to be Jamaican while living in this house. 

Then, I visited the house I lived in with my cousins when my aunt left for America.

It was amazing to see how small it was as a 21-year-old compared to how big I thought it was as a 6-year-old.

Looking at it from the street, it was amazing to realize it housed four whole families. We shared the bathroom with one family and the kitchen with another. My new school where my aunt kissed me goodbye, St. Ann’s Bay Primary, was right down the street within sight.

I remember having my foot outlined so my big cousin could go find me new shoes in the market with the tracing. I remember picking almost ripe mangoes off the tree just outside this frame to the right and eating them with salt. In this house, I learned that it really “takes a village.” The whole community looked out for each other’s children. Constantly being offered food and treats from neighbors, I was never ever hungry and I had plenty of friends.

One year later, the summer before second grade, my aunt was settled in America and my grandmother flew to Jamaica to fly with me to Atlanta.

In Atlanta, we started out in Longwood Apartments on North Druid Hills Rd. My aunt and I lived with one other woman, Marcia, who is still a big influence in my life today. We lived with her for my second grade year and then she moved out.

A proud moment in that apartment was when I was 8, I cooked my aunt breakfast in bed all on my own. I’m not sure what the whole meal was, but I definitely scrambled some eggs. This was also a carefree time of my life, but looking back on it, I recognize that my aunt did a lot to provide for me like her own child so that I could have a great childhood.

After that apartment life, we moved to our first house in Stone Mountain.

Because I moved before third grade ended, my homeroom teacher would pick me up from home in the mornings and take me with her to class so that I didn’t have to switch schools so close to the year ending. It was in this house that I got my first real room. In the apartments, my room was the sunroom so I didn’t have a door.

In this house, I had a bedroom door, my own bathroom that I had to keep clean, and my own TV that I couldn’t watch until my homework and chores were complete. In that house, I really started to develop my character traits of being responsible and respectful as I approached my teenage years.

Just in time for high school, we moved again to where we live now, near College Park in an even bigger house. In this house is where I experienced most of my growing pains as the coming-of-age phase of my life transpired.

I had the usual teenage angst: struggling to fit in with a new set of people at a new high school, trying to get boys to notice me without seeming like I’m trying too hard, suffering with depression, and learning how to meditate it away. Best of all, I remember running into my aunt’s room the morning I read I’d been accepted into my alma mater, The University of Georgia!

Looking at the progression of homes from my great grandmother’s, to my grandmother’s, and to finally my aunt’s (who is pretty much my mother having raised me since I was four) current home, it is so easy to be proud of the hard working women in my life.

It’s also very easy to feel immense pressure to own a home that’s even bigger and symbolizes my contribution to the progress we have made as a family, especially being part of the first American-born generation of my lineage. These homes are all monuments of who I am today.

They provide evidence of love and support as well as motivation. I want to live a prosperous life striving to take care of the people who took care of me and to leave my mark on the people that I support: my existing and future family, my friends, and those I meet and influence on my career path to becoming a User Experience Researcher. Remember the name: Shanice S. Stewart.

Wake up. Roll over to turn off the alarm only after hitting snooze for the fifth time. Check Instagram. Scroll through and live vicariously through fashionistas in California. Check Snapchat. Oh, a rogue camel in a desert from username الشباب وجديدة ? Good. Check Email. “150 Ways You Could Be Kidnapped Via Facebook” article. Thanks, Mom.

By then, you realize you have approximately twelve minutes to get ready. You spring out of bed, brush your teeth, throw on some clothes, tame your hair, forget deodorant, and grab a granola bar as you run out the door.

Who can relate to mornings like this?

Don’t be afraid to raise your hand. My first couple years of college were shamefully filled to the brim with similar baskets of shambles. I did not realize the extent to which this mindless procrastination was hurting me.

Scientifically speaking, it is a facet of our survival instincts to stay in bed and avoid “adulting.” Referred to as a “negativity bias,” many of us subconsciously suffer from an irrational fear of immediate failure following the decision to rise and face the world. It is caused by an unrealistic, out-of-focus perception nourished by humanity’s worst enemy: fear. It is not quite as simple as procrastination or laziness. No wonder mornings get a bad rep.

John Milton writes in Paradise Lost, “The Mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.” Imagine that our lives are Pandora stations. When we begin our day chaotically, we are choosing the Skrillex station. Yikes. The rest of our day is consequently filled with related, stressful music. When we begin our day brightly and confidently, it is filled with music that feeds our spirit and exercises positive psychology.

I learned that skipping breakfast, sleeping in too late, intensely stressing over responsibilities, doubting myself, and approaching the day too quickly and negatively in turn painted ugly colors on my daily canvas. Think puke green and spots of paper bag brown.

I was depressed, filled with anxiety, and not living the life I wanted to live.

When I finally understood the importance of self-love in the middle of college, my attitude about mornings changed dramatically. In a holistic sense, how I altered my morning routine transformed the harmony of my entire life. The transformation was radically visible and it is the best thing I have ever done for myself (besides letting myself eat cheese whenever I want, in the name of self-love).

These days, most of my mornings are comprised of healthy breakfasts, journaling, meditation, daily devotionals, fitness, and overall positive channeling using a variety of methods. When I tune my thoughts to a positive radio wave, I experience a consistent flow of sunny positivity throughout the entire day. I’m talking about amplified productivity, creativity, and optimism: the ultimate life hack.

I challenge YOU to take the first step to improve your mornings.

You can begin with one of the most simple and beneficial exercises I have put into practice. Spend five to ten minutes creating a list of things in the world that make you happy. Some samples from my list include: quality family time, boat rides, perfect avocados, queso, sunflowers, fresh fruit, baby animals wearing diapers, cookouts, sunshine, and Jesus.

Be as specific as possible, for it is often the little things that truly mean the most. Train your mind to remember, every morning, why it is worth it to wake up in the first place.

When you create your own sunrise, you become an unstoppable force of positivity. Don’t invite negativity into your life. It’s your party, so make it colorful, fabulous, and one to remember.

We’ve been through a lot together over the last 18 years, you and I.

I discovered a whole new level of nervous anticipation when I learned of your impending arrival. I never knew that twelve long hours of excruciating pain could feel like twelve long days, yet all of it be forgotten in the blink of an eye the moment I first held you.

We forged new schedules, new habits, a new life rhythm, clinging to what worked, discarding what did not.

I rediscovered my love for Sesame Street. You found a love for cars and trucks. Hot Wheels were your kryptonite.

You were two when we had to learn about single parenthood, and doing this thing on our own. You were four when we met our new life partner, and learned that we were no longer on our own.

I watched you being led down the hospital hallway in your little gown, your tiny six-year-old hand tucked into the nurse’s, and sent up a silent plea of protection as your tonsils were removed. Ice cream and popsicles saw us through recovery.

I reached a new depth of heartache as I had to explain your step-grandpa’s suicide to you later that same year.

The birds and the bees soon explained your new baby brother’s arrival. You found a new sense of pride in bringing me diapers and feeding him cereal. I discovered that I could, in fact, handle two.

You became a teenager the year we first learned of your stepdad’s illness, and turned fifteen when we moved to be closer to his family because of it. We again forged new schedules, new friendships, a new way of life. Babysitting for your brother and long doctor’s visits became the norm.

I became a caregiver in a whole different way. You became resilient, yet understanding, agreeing to delay that important teenage rite of passage — getting your driver’s license— until we had settled into our new routines.

It took two tries, but you did it.

You rediscovered your love of cars and trucks this year, taking college-level auto tech courses to prepare for your next life stage. You have agreed to delay your college career as we continue to battle your stepdad’s illness.

I am in constant, silent awe of your selflessness, your patience, your fierce protectiveness, and your joy for life’s simplest things. This year, you will be eighteen. An adult.

You are ready.

I am immensely proud to call you my son.

Through you, I have learned the true meaning of unconditional love.