When I was younger I always did exactly what was expected of me, but my laters years show that I’ve traveled a very unorthodox path.

In the beginning, I was Mama’s perfect little girl in ruffled dresses with matching shoes and bags; daddy’s little princess; and teacher’s pet. I colored inside the lines. I did what was expected of me.

Then I turned twelve and had an experience that found me (at not yet 5 feet tall) standing toe to toe with my 6’4″ pastor saying to him, bold as brass, “Pastor Mulvihill, I believe that’s called hypocrisy.”

And with that one sentence my world split in two. I still played the games I needed to to survive, but I began to question everything I knew or thought I knew to be true.

I pushed every boundary, every rule, every belief I had been taught. I’ve taken the unorthodox path. Instead I began to explore forbidden territory.

I began to read philosophy, to study world religions, to listen intently to conversations that prior to this I would have coward from. Coming from a very conservative Christian background, this was absolute heresy.

I began to write about what I was learning, experiencing, questioning, and where I might want to explore next. I did this in secret because no one I knew thought outside of the prescribed Christian norm. I had no allies on my quest, save my small town librarian.

Consequently, in little ways I began to rebel. I began to stand up for my beliefs, as unpopular or unorthodox in my community as they were. And I stood out like a sore thumb.

But I had gained access to my true north. Tenacious as I was and am, nothing was going to dissuade me from traveling the unorthodox path. Crookedy and unsure as it might have been, it was mine and not one deigned for me. It was a path that I was discovering for myself. One that fit the misfit I felt myself to be.

I have always listened to my heart. When I do, I am never led astray.

After I put myself through college, graduating with two degrees, I had my heart set on pursing higher education and Montessori certification.

But I had no visible means of paying for grad school. Daunted? Doubting? Never! I packed up my little blue Volkswagen Rabbit with everything I owned and hopped into the drivers seat to hit the road. I’d figure out a way to make it work.

I kissed my friends I’d been staying with goodbye and started my car’s engine. Then my extra dad, Dennis, said hang on a minute. He promptly returned and handed me a folded piece of paper. I opened it. My mouth dropped.

It was a check for $1000. It would get me in the door. I could, and did, do the rest.

My life has been full of my convictions and passions leading miracles to my doorstep.

Allowing, as Frank Sinatra sang, for me to do it my way. And I have.

I have taught Montessori toddlers, pre-schoolers, kindergarteners, and been a school administrator. I have worked every station at a 4-star restaurant in the San Francisco Bay. I have had the joy of knowing Julia Child and Jaques Pepin, two of my greatest kitchen heroes. I was the solopreneur of Haute Plate, a fine dining and full service event planning company for over 20 years.

I am a jeweler. I have shipped my pastries and jams all over the world and have a loyal following of marmheads (people addicted to my marmalades). I have traveled with and worked for famous people. I have cleaned houses to pay the rent.

I paint the interior of homes. I sew for others. I make up words for fun. I fall in love constantly. I’m never afraid to take a chance, or to give a second chance. I look for the good and beauty in everything. My resume looks like stone soup.

I’ve done everything in life against society’s prescribed path, but I have found my bright star, my heart, my true north.

I have lived with challenges that could have destroyed me, but I have never lost my hold on my passions and my dreams. I have lived my life with the utmost gusto, my way. My unorthodox path has taken me to extraordinary places and I don’t regret anything.

Should I leave this world today, I leave no regrets. I have pursued every dream, every desire, and every passion of my heart to its happy, and in my estimation, successful completion. All this and a heart overflowing with love. What more could I ask for?

(To understand my life’s theme song more fully here are the lyrics to My Way.)

I would come nowhere near labeling myself as a sentimental. However, the nostalgia I feel for college life comes all too often. I miss the Classic City. I miss being in a college student mindset – invincible, limitless.

What I miss most though are the people.

UGA is huge. With over 36,000 students enrolled, it can be easy to get lost in a crowd of people, especially when you are from a small coastal town in Southeast Georgia. What is special about UGA though is how many opportunities there are to get involved.Once you put get your foot in the door to a sorority or fraternity house, the Center for Student Organizations (now called the Center for Student Activities and Involvement) or any of the college ministry groups, it opens up a smaller world where you can find your own niche, becoming a name not just a number. The involvements I listed are just the ones I was involved in, not mentioning athletics or the plethora of other fun, communal activities on the UGA campus.

Compared to my four years at UGA, post-college life has been lackluster.

A big part of this for me was the transition from personal relationships to professional relationships. Transitioning from deep, 2 AM Little Italy relationships to somewhat surface, work relationships was difficult, and for an extrovert like me, the isolation that I let incur from that was toxic.

Finding purpose was another big part of the transition for me. I am a true millennial in this way. Work to me needs a purpose, a reason; it needs to make a difference. In my first job out of college, I liked it, I liked the people, but I did not feel like I was working towards anything. I was learning, I was making great friends, but I could feel myself feeling stuck, lonely and purposeless. I was not separating my purpose or identity from my work and I could not see beyond that job.

After almost a year in my first job, I decided to venture elsewhere in the hopes that returning to a familiar place would spark something in me that I knew I once had. I found a fellowship with a local youth ministry, applied and was accepted. It was a place I had not imagined myself being again but a place I am eternally grateful for, home.

In every dream I had before this point, home was not where I was and a fellowship was not what I was doing, but here I am. For me, coming back to my roots, my foundation, sparked my dreams again and set me on a different, but incredible journey. Although I am still working on the purpose bit and have just acknowledged at this point that there will probably never be another time like college again, coming home allowed me to regenerate, dream again and set my sights on something new and hopeful.

It allowed me to remember where I came from so I can imagine where I want to be.

I loved college, and I will never have that same experience again, but post-college life can be just as enjoyable and life-giving if you are able to find the balance between purpose, identity, work and life. It is hard work; it may take three moves, two jobs and one journey home to get you there, but it is possible.

Hopefully, I will be in graduate school next year working towards a degree in social work. A field I had never considered until two mentors on separate occasions both mentioned it to me. Had I never come home though, I may not have ever thought about social work and the doors it can open.

The journey has been different than I expected but so worth all of the people I have met, lessons I have learned and new dreams I am working towards.

I had never fully bought into the God thing. At least, not the “big man in the sky” imagery that was presented to me by the private Christian schools I attended in my youth.

I remember one particular moment, when I was about 7 or 8, that I was alone in the kitchen one afternoon drinking a cup of water. I was suddenly struck by a peculiar idea to push the cup over the edge of the table to see if God would stop me. I don’t know why my kid-brain thought this was such a terrible act, but I got nervous just thinking of what the ramifications could be. Surely God could read my thoughts and know my ill-intent, but would He stop me? Curious but scared to death, I checked to make sure no one was watching and started to edge the cup towards the floor very slowly. With each inch, I expected some invisible hand to slap mine away, but nothing happened, and eventually the water fell to the floor. A strange mixture of great relief and vast disappointment filled up my little body.

I didn’t know it then, but that moment would change how I viewed God for the rest of my life.

Fast forward to college. I’m 18, unsure of what electives to take, and decidedly agnostic. God didn’t fit into my life, and I didn’t fit into His. If you had asked me, I would have said that all I cared about was getting my degree. I didn’t know that there was something secretly inside me hungry for answers. My first philosophy class awakened that in me, however. I had never analysed the world around me in such a critical, almost scientific kind of way.

I quickly made philosophy my minor, and every subject within it was like a new turning point in my understanding of life. I went from claiming to be agnostic, to atheist, to existentialist. I was all over the place, but happy about it because each new step felt like growth. Still, a part of me was left unsatisfied. The majority of the philosophy subjects were of Western focus. They dealt with metaphysics, ethics, politics, and society–everything I would need to be a critical thinking citizen and perhaps, one day, a political leader. But it was hardly anything I could apply to my day-to-day life for when I was just human me, alone, and not another cog in the machinery of society. Who was I? And did I even matter?

It’s sad to say that it wasn’t until after I graduated that I realized how shortchanged I had been by my schooling.

Not that I regret one moment of it. In fact, I think everything aligned perfectly to set me up for where I am now. But it was my own thirst to continue learning about philosophy after graduation that led me to the discovery of Eastern philosophy and religions. I had heard of Buddhism, Taoism, and Hinduism before, but never quite understood them. If you’re unaware, Eastern philosophies tend to focus more on our relationship with nature and the question of the divine spirit. Actually, there are a lot of similarities between Eastern and Western religions, but having lived in such a Western society, I was only getting one piece of the puzzle.

I won’t bore you with the particulars. The point is that I came to the understanding of how interconnected we all are and how deep the rabbit hole goes. Sure, society and the governing of society is important, but on a broader perspective we aren’t just one city, one state, or one country. Focusing on only one religion, one race, and one understanding, shortchanges us all. It leads us to war with each other and ban each other from our homes when we get the most benefits from coming together.

Spirituality is more than a belief; it’s a journey of understanding. It’s seeing the oneness of the human race, and its connection to the world around us. Are we God? Are we the love, compassion, mercy, and restraint that we’re all so desperately looking for? Maybe. Maybe it’s all baloney and maybe it’s not. But it’s a question definitely worth asking, and it’s an answer I will always be seeking.

Coming to terms with the mortality of success remains the harshest reality to strike me in the past two years.

The summer before I started college I won two national championships in the high jump and competed at the 2014 World Junior Championship. Since my junior year of high school I believed I was going nowhere but up, and my successes only reinforced the naïve belief.

If the 17-year-old version of myself could see me now, she would not believe we are the same person.

I started jumping my freshman year of high school. I came from a family of volleyball players, but I never wanted to associate myself with my sisters’ interests. Essentially coached by a school priest and YouTube videos, I took to the event quickly and became passionate about every aspect of jumping. Freshman year was a season of constant improvement. I hit a slump in my sophomore year, which led me to make a series of influential changes, the greatest being the decision to devote myself to my faith.

I began devotional sessions every evening, reading the Bible and writing about how the message spoke to me. I attended church every Sunday with my parents, and rarely took a Sunday off, even when I was traveling. My junior season began with a personal record, and ended with a state championship after finishing first in every meet of the season. Through the entire season I made it a point to recognize my trusting relationship with God as the reason for all success. I continued this mentality into my senior season, and I continued to get better.

On the morning of the New Balance Outdoor National Championship, I attended church with my parents. I found a small Catholic church in Greensboro, NC, which is now one of the most memorable churches I have ever visited.

When it came time to compete, I had total trust in God.

Not one part of me was nervous. I knew that I had prepared as much as I could, and it was now in God’s hands. Throughout the competition I remained in constant conversation with God. I never asked for a victory. I simply just asked for His presence. I went on to win the competition without a single miss and achieved a new personal record. I used my faith in the next championship two weeks later and the success continued. The great change came after the world championship.

I slowly began to believe my success was a result of my own work. My focus shifted from God to myself. I transitioned into an arrogant and ungrateful athlete. I can remember throwing fits at my parents when I did not get what I want, at one point exclaiming, “I did this all on my own. You had nothing to do with it.” I had truly let the success consume me. I broke promises I made to myself and to God. Going into college, I believed there was no way I could fall down. I convinced myself I would continue to progress the way I had been the past two years.

Boy, did I get slapped with humility! I never stopped working hard. I never missed a day of practice. I never gave up on my dreams. However, I did give up on the one thing that got me to where I am, my faith and humility. College has absolutely not gone as planned. I jump significantly lower than I did as a senior in high school. Some days it even feels as though I am continuing to fall down into a hole and there’s no way out. In all of this pain and struggle, I have matured and learned more about myself than I ever would have had everything gone as planned. You don’t truly realize what you are blessed with until you are knocked down scrambling to get back up.

It only hit me in the past few months what really changed about me.

Now, I make it my goal to find my faith again and remain humble, so when I get back up and find success again, I won’t allow the same arrogance to creep in. I no longer believe my success is inevitable. I understand nothing is a guarantee.

I have been taught more by failure than success could ever teach me. None of this means that I have accepted failure or that I am content with where I am, and I shouldn’t be! You are allowed to be upset by your failures.

To pull a quote from Meredith Grey, “Progress looks like a bunch of failures. And you can have feelings about that because it’s sad, but you can’t fall apart.” It isn’t always about how you feel about failure; it’s about what you do to keep yourself together so you can move forward. I choose to use my faith to hold me together.

Find what keeps you grounded, let that pull you to the top, and know that some things are greater than success. As I begin to focus more on humility, I try to keep a verse from Proverbs in mind: “Before his downfall a man’s heart is proud, but before honor comes humility” (Proverbs 18:12).

Even though I haven’t always realized it, community has played a huge role in my life.

I grew up in a stereotypical small town—exactly the kind you hear about in country music songs. Everybody knew everybody. The kids you graduated with were the same kids you played with at recess in kindergarten, and it was not possible to walk in our local grocery store without seeing someone you knew.

By the time I got to high school and began my college search, I was so sick of my small hometown that I was using college applications as a one-way ticket out. It’s not that I hated where I grew up, but I definitely didn’t understand what a special thing growing up in my close-knit community was. I didn’t realize how much I depended on the community around me and my small, close group of high school friends who I still depend on today. This community was something I had always had, so I took it for granted. I was just ready to go somewhere new, meet new people, learn about different cultures and start fresh. I wanted to have a conversation with someone who didn’t already know my life story.

As I sat in my room that I’d lived in since I was a baby and applied to colleges, all at least 700 miles from home, I never realized that it would end up being the hardest, most terrifying, yet without a doubt most rewarding thing I’d ever done. After I made my somewhat random decision, I ended up here at UGA, where the student population is four times the population of my hometown.

This made for quite the transition.

After the first week of excitement, starting classes, trying not to get lost, meeting hall mates and awkwardly trying to sit with strangers at Bolton, I began to feel lonely, homesick, and out-of-place. It did help that I was one of the lucky ones who had a really great freshman year roommate who I instantly became friends with. She introduced me to some of her friends and without her I’m not sure I would’ve made it through the first few weeks here.

Still, I felt like everyone was always with their friends from home talking about high school or their new sorority or something else I couldn’t relate to. I found myself craving the sense of community that I had ran from. I wanted nothing more than to walk in to a grocery store or pull in to a gas station and run into a friend’s mom, my elementary school teacher, that old couple who lived down the street, or just any familiar face.

I missed the comfort that came with being part of a community.

Once I left home, it didn’t take long for me to realize how important community was. In fact, leaving home was probably the only way I ever would have. I learned that we naturally desire the feeling that we belong to something, and it is so important to be surrounded with individuals who care for, appreciate, and encourage you while you do the same for them. It is human nature.

Although I felt pretty intimidated, I didn’t doubt that with time I would find my place on campus.

So I became that freshman. I went to every activity fair and club interest meeting, I collected countless flyers, I put my name on dozens of email lists (which I still regret everyday when I look at my inbox) and eventually I landed at two places on campus that would end up feeling like home to me.

The first one was Relay For Life. This was intriguing to me because I had participated in Relay for years so it felt familiar to me. I joined a committee last year and was lucky enough to be selected for the executive board this year. The community within this organization has amazed me. It doesn’t take long to feel like part of the Relay family. Relay is filled with so many selfless people who truly care about others and dedicate so much of themselves to this organization.

I recently saw this quote that reminded me of the Relay community:

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful committed people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”

We all push and encourage each other to be the best we can. We recognize that when we all come together as a community, we can accomplish amazing things.

The second place on campus that I have found community in is the Wesley Foundation. Wesley is a campus ministry that has an all-freshman branch called Freshley. I joined Freshley last year and am a part of Wesley this year. Through Freshley and Wesley I’ve had the opportunity to join small groups where I’ve built incredible relationships with some of the most genuine people I’ve ever met.

The people I have met through Wesley have changed my life and helped me grow in ways I never would have thought possible. Of all the time I’ve spent studying during my first three and a half semesters, the most valuable thing I’ve learned is how important it is to build relationships and to spend time with others who will be there with you during all of life’s craziness. Life can be hard and at times probably unbearable if you don’t have people you can count on to have your back.

At this point in life, it is so easy to get caught up in school but at the end of the day, life really isn’t about your GPA, or your major, or what grad schools you can get into, it’s about the people we meet, friends we make, and the lives we touch along the way.

There is a scary thing out there. It lurks around the corner; it hovers over your head like your own personal rain cloud; it is the monster under your bed and the hurdle you attempt to jump over. It’s not ISIS, and it’s not your parents having sex. It is called “expectations.” Everyone has them. You may not even realize that you do, or that they are being placed on you. Whether it’s the idea that your boyfriend has to get you flowers every time he makes you upset, or your coach wanting you to catch every single pass thrown at you. They make or break you.

Many people have begun to form the opinion that millennials have such an easy life. We receive trophies for Last Place and Best Sportsmanship. We have helicopter moms who baby us until we cannot function without their hovering presence. We are getting married later, having kids later…life is nothing but a breeze for us. However, I disagree.

Today’s world has high expectations for the youth of this country. We push harder subjects on younger children. We need job experience to get a job even though it is supposedly “entry-level.”

However, its not just professionally. Expectations corrupt all aspects of our lives. I see expectations break down everyone around me. Meredith is not skinny enough for the guy she likes. Greg is not involved enough at school to apply for the job he wants. Luke is not strong enough to face his mother’s illness. Taylor is not healthy enough to go back to school as she battles her anoxeria. Or the worst of them all, that voice in the back of your head making you believe, “I am not good enough.”

I have had that moment many times in my life, but one stuck with me the most just a few weeks ago. Everyone in college, at one point in their life, has applied for a job, internship, etc. You start the application process. You try and make yourself look the best you can, even though you’re afraid it might not be enough.

Finally, you receive the position! Start the fireworks! Pour the champagne! You did it!

….or did you?

I had received an acceptance into a program within my school that allowed me to take classes that pertained to my major and acquire an internship this summer. The program was all in the field I am studying, government. I was so excited and proud of myself for receiving my first acceptance! However, my idea of an achievement ended up not being enough for the real world.

I remember messaging my friend over Facebook telling her how I had gotten into the program. She immediately responded with, “SHUT UP. SHUT UP.” Her response only got me more excited as I saw that she was now calling me to congratulate me on my acceptance. We began talking about the program and all of its details. I expressed her how excited and happy I was, but I could tell the more I talked the less she seemed impressed with my accomplishment.

“I just don’t think you should be that excited. You can’t settle for this.”

Settle? I had thought this phone call would be happy…but it ended up becoming a lecture. The program did not seem prestigious as I was only competing with people from my school. A different program would be better. Why wasn’t I trying harder to get a different position? How come I wasn’t more concerned that I might not get another internship? How is this going to look on my resume? Is this all I was going to get?

“You’re not doing enough. You need to work harder.”

I was speechless. What had I done wrong? Did I not deserve to be happy? I was I really not doing enough? My thoughts began to race. I was not smart enough, involved enough…why had I believed that I could be happy with this program?

That conversation really upset me. I remember sobbing in my bed and having no motivation to try and move on. But, after having time to reflect on it, I realized that it should not have affected me as much as it did. Since when did other people’s idea of how our life should look or be affect how we truly live? Why do we let other people’s opinion of success and a happy life change what we believe? My life is different from the person sitting next to me and different from my parent’s.

We are not one in the same. We have different skills, different ideas, and different pathways to our own success.

We are all growing; no matter what stage of life we are in. So, no matter where you are in life right now, if you are trying and attempting to achieve your goal in life, (I mean YOUR goal, not your mother’s, not your father’s, not your teacher’s, yours.) then do not let anyone stop you. Your yellow brick road is not the same as mine. Yours may be winding and may have you encounter many witches and wizards before you reach your Emerald City.

Do not look back and stay focused on what you want and what you believe your future holds, because, in the end, you are always enough.

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.

*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.

“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.

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.