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?

“We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.” – Aristotle. This quote was painted on the wall in the cafeteria of my high school growing up. At the time, I couldn’t appreciate how it truly describes all facets of life. Only after years of learning to be independent in college did the truth become apparent to me. Our everyday habits define us and our search for excellence and happiness.

We’re taught many things from the time we become teenagers to the time we reach our mid-twenties – everything from how to write eloquently, to how the economy functions, to how to program and build computers.

There aren’t any classes offered in college that teach you how to live your life. Presumably, we’ve been taught everything we need to know by the time we’ve ascended to higher education. As a result, most of us have to figure it out for ourselves when we finally leave the nest.

We have an endless amount of temptations in college. Alcohol, various drugs, sex, porn – it’s all easily accessible and we’re entirely responsible for ourselves.

All of us slip up at some point; we give into one or more of these temptations that give us a momentary feeling of happiness and they become deadly everyday habits. That’s the edge of the cliff.

It’s easy to latch on to what gives us what we perceive to be happiness. We’ve never had to figure out on our own how to manage all of our free time, so we spend it doing what feels right.

At some point reality comes back to all of us. These vices, though they seem to promise lasting happiness, never retain their value over time.

This is when the quote from Aristotle hits home.

Real happiness is the net sum of the values we live out rather than those we expect of ourselves. Therein lies the true wisdom of Aristotle’s words. Our actions define us; the habits we build are the secret to our own happiness.

I’ve gotten myself into a lot of trouble with two unassuming words I use all the time: I’ll never. I never intended to do a lot of things. I never intended to go to UGA. I never intended to fall in love with Jesus. I never intended to even major in what I studied in school. In fact, I said no to all of these things that have ultimately shaped me into the person I am right now. But I’ve since learned to never say never.

I had a tendency to not only shut the door, but also to lock it and then attempt to lose the key.I grew up with a very set, rigid idea of what my life would look like. To stray from the course would risk disaster, and I decided at a very young age that I could not afford any upset. I would have bought insurance for my future if I could have.

My old plan actually makes me laugh out loud now because I have no idea where I conjured it up actually, probably from a “best college rankings” list and whatever was cool in the New York Times in 2006.

My parents gave me a lot of freedom growing up to explore who I wanted to be and what I wanted to do, so I threw myself into studying and saying “no” to all of the things that would lead me astray from a path of academia and sweater vest wearing.

I was stubborn and, although I wanted to be “open” to new ideas and culture, I was afraid of the filth in the world because I could see it.

I could see it in the way that poverty littered the outskirts of my county and I could see it even in the way my parents would fight, so I burrowed into a little hole of Tolstoy and Austen afraid of the grime all around me.

In that little den of literature and math homework, I gritted my teeth and hoped and wished for security. I strained and I strained, and although my GPA throughout high school was pretty stellar, I felt alone and isolated and as if the weight of the world sat on my shoulders.

I made plans to attend Emory University in the fall of 2011. My parents even bought “Emory Mom and Dad” bumper stickers for their cars. I had always said, “I’ll never go to UGA.”

Me on the far right after me high school graduation

But May of my senior year rolled around and I had a very weird change of heart that led me to consider a visit to UGA that then led me to sending in that college deposit to Athens rather than to Atlanta.

That same summer, I told my cousin I would go to the beach with her on a mission trip, an act that prompted my friend to ask me, “Lauren, don’t only religious people go on mission trips?”

People were very shaken up about my change in plans. I, of course, was oblivious to all of these openings of opportunities and closing of my “no’s.” I quickly learned to never say never.

I went on that mission trip during the week of the 4th of July. I helped paint a brick house and patched a roof. I ate too many Swedish Fish candies on the floor with my cousin and her friends and sang Katy Perry in the bunk rooms before we went to bed.

At night, we worshiped on the beach, and I became fearful of looking like I didn’t know the songs (because truthfully I didn’t). I committed to learning the melodies because I was shocked that a group of kids my age could really care for Jesus in the way that they did.

I don’t know what my moral code really was. I did know that I had done some terrible things in life, and so the concept of grace that this “guy Jesus” offered (I was still a little skeptical) was attractive to me. So, when I got home from the trip in July, I started reading the new study bible my cousin had given me before the trip.

I would go into my room and lock the door, afraid that someone would find me googling King David or something. I started journaling which was mainly a bunch of “I love you, Jesus. I love you, Jesus. I love you, Jesus.” and “How Lord? How Lord? How Father, could you love someone like me?”

It was what the other kids were doing, and I didn’t know why really, but I needed desperately to know what they knew. I wanted what they had, that peace and light that I hadn’t known existed before.

I accepted Jesus into my heart and became a new creation. I was full of gratitude and a peace that I knew were not my own doing.

I showed up to UGA in August with big plans. I thought I’d meet 30,000 new friends. I thought I’d end up as the president of the sorority. I thought I’d study abroad for a semester in Australia. If all of my plans would have been fulfilled, I probably would be planning my wedding right now.

What actually happened that August day I arrived with my twin, extra-large sheet set was the opposite: my roommate did not like me at all. Rush was long and hot and I lost my voice by the third day. I was a smiling mime. My hair got stuck in my best friend’s portable fan, which left me with fresh, new “side bangs.” I would get on the bus and cry to my mom because I thought I would never make it around campus in 15 minutes.

I hated it. I had never felt more alone or broken in my entire life. My life up until last August had been shaped by my own control. Here, I felt like I had that control snatched right from my hand.

Me, in the middle

What did I do when my roommate put a curtain up under her bed and refused to talk to me? I turned to Jesus and, though my roommate still didn’t want to talk to me, I discovered a still, small voice that encouraged me, stayed with me, and offered me peace and a new perspective.

I learned to pray, and so I prayed hard, desperate prayers. “God, I don’t know what I’m doing, but I need you. I need something. I need something to change and I want you. I’d give it all for you.”

He gave me a little peace and a heaping portion of faith that felt something like, “you don’t know what I’m doing, but I love you and I am here for you. I have a plan.”

I believed Him and, sure enough, my cards seemed to get shuffled and I got dealt a much more pleasant hand.

I started going to Freshley, the freshman student ministry of the UGA Wesley Foundation, and started walking with the Lord. Seriously. I would walk to class and talk to Him, and in a small group we would talk and pray together. Standing there, crammed into Wesley’s main chapel like a little sardine, I listened to the same songs I had learned on the beach the summer before,

I felt a new beginning and the “I’ll never” that I used to cling to was exchanged for a big “yes” to the unknown, knowing full well that I was following a plan much larger than my own.

I found life at UGA. I found family. I found hope and I found deep, satisfying love that makes the unknown and the filth all beautiful and exciting. Instead of saying “I’ll never,” I’m now saying a big “yes” to whatever door Jesus wants to walk me through. From what I’ve found over the last four years, they are doors that lead to the best, most exciting and fulfilling places.

Two parallel lines, two faint blue strips that dictated how drastically my life was about to change.

Pregnant. There’s no way, this can’t be right… can it? Not me, it was only once, so it doesn’t even really count, right? Wrong. So, so wrong.

Lets back up for a minute and start from the very beginning.

I have always been a true-blue, textbook definition of a perfectionist. From as early as I can remember, if I couldn’t do things 100% the way they were supposed to be done, that was it, I could not handle it, so I just wouldn’t do it. The risk of failing far surpassed the risk of trying and not ending up being able to do it perfectly. This is probably why I flew through about half a dozen sports growing up before I landed on my one true love, which also fueled my perfectionism in more ways than I can even bear to think about: gymnastics.

I think it’s pretty common knowledge in the outside world that the goal of gymnastics is to be “perfect.”

The perfect 10, the most sought-out number on the face of the planet in a gymnasts’ eyes, and quite frankly, next to none of us ever experienced that success. But nonetheless it was a goal,  a goal that every single gymnast strives for.

From that point on, from the age of 6 years old, my entire being and human existence was dictated by the correlation between numbers and perfectionism. In gymnastics, it was the perfect 10, which let’s get real, I never even came close to achieving. Once I outgrew gymnastics, both figuratively and literally because I’m 5’6” which is a monster in the sport where all dominating forces are under 5’, I turned to running.

After running in a 5k for a late uncle, I realized I might potentially have some talent, so I decided to take up track and cross country throughout high school, which further fed my numbers equals success rationale. Times, miles, laps, it all had to add up to what I deemed to be “perfect”, most often determined by my coaches, but I also put my spin on it to determine how effectively I was meeting my own expectations for myself, which if you haven’t figured out by now, were unrealistically high.

My numbers equals success facade took a turn for the absolute worst the summer before my junior year of high school. 3 weeks before school began, I ended up being life-flighted to one of the most prestigious hospitals in the country for deadly blood clots in my leg and lungs.

After that 8-day hospital ordeal was over, as I was getting ready for discharge, the doctor turned to me and said “In order to prevent this from happening again, there are 3 things you must not ever do: Smoke cigarettes, take hormonal contraceptives, and become overweight.” I nodded and tucked that information in the back of my mind, and proceeded with the rest of my day.

As my recovery process began, I found myself laid up a lot longer than I originally had thought. It seemed my running days were over as I could barely hobble across my house to the bathroom with a walker without gasping for air. And to my absolute demise, I began to gain weight.

I have always been a muscular girl, between the immense amount of muscle mass gained from 6 years of gymnastics, to having “quadzilla” legs from running for 5 years up until that point, I had a good amount of mass. So 150 pounds on my 5’6” frame was normal for me, and I looked exceptionally fit and healthy. Or so I thought, until I found the internet.

Soon I began obsessing over weight charts, “normal ranges” for women my height, and to my absolute despair, I was considered “at risk for becoming overweight”. There was that word, overweight. One of those three words my doctor told me I could never become. Thus began my irrationally unhealthy relationship with food. Over the next 3 months, I would go on to lose close to 30 pounds, always fed by my numbers-driven thought process. By the end of December, I was 127 pounds and looked like a walking skeleton.

I had family members constantly down my throat, drilling me about how much I weighed and what I had eaten that day. It was constant, and it was exhausting. So I “recovered” or so everyone thought. My battles with food and disordered thoughts would continue to haunt me every day for the next 5 years. My weight had recovered, despite a few half-hearted attempts at starvation a few weeks before a big event like prom or graduation or the beginning of college, only to binge afterward and put on more weight than I had lost.

But in those moments of such bittersweet lows, I was perfect. In my eyes, in the eyes of my similarly disordered friends, I was perfect. The perfect body, the perfect boyfriend at the time, the seemingly perfect life.

I had been accepted into Duquesne University’s Doctorate of Physical Therapy program, and began my first semester there in the fall of 2012. This acceptance was just another reminder of how ‘perfect’ my life was to be; a great school in a big city far away from the controlling eyes and words of my family, I was pre-accepted into grad school as a freshman, I would graduate with my Doctorate and live the rest of my life as the strong independent woman I was always portrayed to be in a big city filled with opportunity… until those two little blue lines showed up.

I met D through a mutual friend at the University of Pittsburgh, and we instantly hit it off. He was different than anyone I had ever been with back home, so immediately I was even more intrigued. He had a history in modeling and was studying opera at Carnegie Mellon, the primitive music college right next door to Pitt. All of these things combined, plus a little liquid courage, made him more attractive by the minute.

Soon enough, I found myself in his suite the morning following a party we had attended together, not entirely sure what had happened the night before, but through deductive reasoning, I had a pretty good idea. In the midst of getting around and ready to head back to my campus, the conversation was brought up that the condom had broken. “Oh well, it happens”, I thought, and back home I went.

A few weeks later, that “oh well” thought had turned into a feeling of absolute despair as I walked alone to the nearest pharmacy to buy the one and only pregnancy test I have ever taken to this day. There it was, 6pm on a cold November night, 6 hours away from home, with a white stick with two faint blue lines running down it, confirming what I believed to be something that happened to unlucky people, people who weren’t careful, people that weren’t me… I was 18, and pregnant.

The next few weeks were a blur, honestly. Abortion was never an option as I am explicitly pro-life and there was no way to persuade me otherwise. I had made a decision, and now it was my job to take responsibility for my actions, a lesson that had been taught to me from a very young age.

At first, D and I had decided that an open adoption was the only way to get through this. I would have the baby and his aunt who had been trying to have kids would adopt it, that way we could still be a part of his or her life. But that idea was shot down after a conversation with my mother one day, who had also gotten pregnant at 18, and she asked one simple question that determined the direction that my life would go from that point on, “Where do you think you would be today if I had given you up for adoption?” Thus began the planning.

I applied and was accepted at a small branch campus of Penn State University that had a 2-year Physical Therapist Assistant program, a “measly Associates degree” that I thought to be a cake walk compared to the Doctorate program I was currently a part of.

I withdrew from Duquesne at the end of the semester, returned home, and immediately began working. I got a job at a new deli in my small rural hometown, and worked throughout the entire length of my pregnancy, up until a few weeks before my due date, July 2nd. July 2nd came and went, without any sign of “Baby Bella” as she was affectionately known as.

The morning of the Fourth of July came, and I was woken up abnormally early, about 6:45am, with these weird cramps. I tried going back to sleep but they seemed to be getting stronger, so after taking some time to shower and relax, I realized exactly what was going on… I was in labor. So off we went to make the 2-hour drive to the hospital that I was to deliver at.

By the time I got to the hospital, I was already 5cm dilated, half-way there! I began walking laps around the hospital floor, doing everything in my power to have gravity help me move things along. I never planned on having an epidural, just something about needles and my spine that I’m not too comfortable with! By 7pm, it was go time, and by 7:10, I heard those first beautiful cries from my baby girl.

The only words I could say following her birth were “I did it!”, and that unknowingly would become my mantra for the years to come.

The first few weeks after delivery were tough, but with some minor complications and feeding issues resolved, things were beginning to calm down. That is, until the end of August came around. I had decided to begin my schooling immediately after my daughter was born, with the rationale being that I would get through a two-year program while she was young and wouldn’t remember me being gone, and then I would be home and with a career once she was old enough to start remembering things from her childhood. This all sounded fine and great, except for one thing; she wouldn’t remember I wasn’t there, but I sure would remember not being there.

The campus was an hour and 40 minutes away, far too long to make the commute every single day with no income to help pay for gas and all of the mileage on my car. So with the immense love and support from my family, it was decided that I would stay on campus during the week, and come home on the weekends, with my mom and grandma taking turns helping out with my daughter throughout the week. Welcome to the next two and a half years…

My daily schedule during the week proceeded as follows: wake up by 7am, class from roughly 8am to 4pm, depending on the day, library from 4pm to 10pm, back to my room to study from 10pm to between 2am-4am, off to bed and up by 7am the next day. It was grueling, and it was exhausting to say the least. I would force myself to do whatever necessary to get all of my work done throughout the week so by Friday night, I could come home, snuggle up with Bella, and be passed out asleep by 8:30pm.

Weekends consisted of all of the time I could get with her, interspersed with the increasingly less frequent naps as she got older that I craved in order to catch up on all of the lost hours of sleep during the week. And week by week, I found myself collapsing into bed on a Friday night, muttering the same phrase “another week down, I did it.”

Summers consisted of more hours in the heat of the kitchen back in my hometown deli, with the hopes of making enough money throughout the summer to get me through the school year to follow. I was fortunate enough to be chosen as the class tutor my freshman year in both Anatomy and Physiology, so through the schools’ work-study program, I was able to make a minimal amount of money that helped with the ever growing expenses of being not only a college student, but a single mother on top of that.

In the midst of everything, I also found myself struggling once again with my obsession of numbers dominating my existence. I knew I had to get good grades in order to be competitive in a graduate school application, and seeing as that was my ultimate goal, I let that far off illusion control my every move. Any second I wasn’t sleeping or eating, both of which I rarely did, I was studying.

It was obsessive, it was compulsive, it had friends worrying and whispering behind closed doors, but I thought I knew what I had to do in order to ensure I would have a chance at another opportunity of furthering my education after this phase of my life was over. I isolated myself in the library, in my dorm room, even in the laundry room in order to utilize every single minute I had to study, to get that elusive 4.0, that “magic number” that I thought would be the only way I would ever feel that I had made something of myself, the only way to be perfect.

But weeks and weekends came and went, exams and practicals passed and aced, and next thing I knew, it was May of 2015 and graduation day was here. I cannot put into words the overflowing emotions that overcame me as I walked into the gymnasium and across that stage. All of the sleepless nights, all of the countless hours of studying and stressing and practicing time and time again for practicals, it was all worth it.

I walked across that stage with a 3.73 GPA and nothing less than an A- in any class except my freshman history class because let’s get real, a science geek like me could not stay awake to save my life in that class! I was inducted into Alpha Sigma Lambda, a collegiate national honor society for adult learners, for those who exemplified leadership and academic excellence while managing a family or competing interests outside of the classroom.

But none of the exam scores, practical grades, or GPAs mattered in that moment, because I was officially a college graduate; 21 years old, with a soon to be 2-year-old cheering over everyone else in the audience… I did it.

And in that moment, everything was great. The Monday following graduation came, and our clinical rotations began. I had 6 weeks at a nursing home, followed immediately with 6 weeks in an outpatient rehab facility in my hometown. Once those were said and done, the real work began.

In the field of Physical Therapy, your degree means nothing without passing the national Board examination. Like the MCATs for medical students or the LSATs for prospective law students, “the Boards” are the biggest cumulative exam a physical therapy student will ever take. It encompasses the last 2.5 (or 7 for DPT students) years of knowledge and clinical experience you have gained and puts it to the test in clinical application questions.

While studying for 20 hours a day in college was something that could be done, studying with a two-year-old proved to be one of the most challenging feats I had come across at this point. Cue again the late nights studying, the minimal sleep, the begging for nap time so I could continue the quest of finally finishing this process, once and for all. Any spare moment of silence I had was spent with my nose in the books, and many pages of my review book are marked with the drawings of a 2-year-old Picasso.

October 7th arrived, and I woke up knowing that my and my daughters’ entire future depended on what was about to happen in the following hours.

As I made my way to the testing center, I was overcome with a calming sense of relaxation and peace. The nervous jitters were replaced with a feeling of complete satisfaction and confidence, knowing that I had dedicated every single ounce of myself into getting to this moment. I had taken practice exam after practice exam, hitting target scores on each, and continuously solidifying in my mind that this journey that had started just about 3 years ago was finally about to come to an end…

The exam began and to my pleasant surprise, it was easier than any practice exam I had taken, and my confidence began to elevate. By the end of the 4 hours, I was exhausted, I was brain dead, I didn’t know my left from my right, nor did I think I remembered how to drive. But the one thing I did know, was that I had passed. We would not get our results for another week, but in the back of my mind, there wasn’t a single doubt that that was the last test I would ever have to take in my PTA career.

The week following was the slowest and most agonizing waiting I had ever experienced. But finally the day came when we would find our results. The group texts were blowing up, everyone anxiously waiting for the first person to tell everyone that results were up. I checked feverishly every hour on the hour until 6pm, when I told myself that I would stop checking if they weren’t up by then. But around 8:30pm, the first text came through, “THEY’RE UP!” My eyes scanned for that one word, one single 6-letter word in parentheses that was to determine my future… Passed. I did it!

I looked down at my miracle, my motivator, the tiny human being that pushed me and gave me the strength I needed to push through every obstacle, “Mommy did it, Mommy passed her test!”

Tears flowed uncontrollably from my eyes as she threw her arms around me, even at 2 years old, she could understand the importance and significance of this moment. I assume the minutes and hours following were full of text messages and calls to those most important to me to share the big news, but there was no better way to have found out that everything was worth it than to have my precious girl right by my side, just as she was for the past 2 ½ years.

As with every college graduate, next came the job search. There are pros and cons in being from a small rural town. Pro: there probably aren’t many of whatever degree you just graduated with, so if the job is there, there’s not much competition for it. Con: It doesn’t matter if there’s competition if there is no job available in said area. I was experiencing the latter. My hometown has two physical therapy offices, and neither of which had postings for jobs. I searched far and wide, every job search engine, websites of every hospital and nursing home within a 30-mile radius. Nothing.

About a month had passed, and I was getting more and more worried by the day… How am I going to support my daughter as a single mom with no job, OR how am I going to afford to move out on my own to go find a job elsewhere without the help of my family?  They say fate has a funny way of taking its own sweet time, but eventually it will come back around and find you. And that’s exactly what it did one November day.

I had just put my daughter down for a nap when my phone rang, and to my surprise, it just so happened to be the facility director from one of the local physical therapy offices in my hometown, where I had done my last clinical rotation. “Hey Victoria, congratulations on passing your boards! Just curious as to if you had a job lined up yet. If not, why don’t you come on in for an interview, we would love to have you back on board as a full time licensed PTA!”

I’m not sure which emotions were strongest, those after finding out I had passed my boards, or those that I felt in that moment after hanging up the phone. Here I had been searching for a month all over the county, just to have my clinical location call ME to ASK me to come back to work for them!? A lesson for anyone having to do internships of any kind: ALWAYS do your best, ALWAYS give your 110%, and NEVER burn bridges, because you never know where they can lead.

I have been working for just over 5 months now, and it is everything I could have asked for. Being able to say that I put myself through college as a single teen mom and came out on top with a degree, a license, a career, and a toddler that I can fully support financially on my own is absolutely without a doubt my proudest moment, and most meaningful accomplishment.

People ask me regularly if I plan on going back to school to finish what I started originally and complete my Doctorate, and yes, that is certainly a goal that I keep in the back of my mind. I am currently teaching myself biology at home from an old college textbook in order to get a head start on some of the classes I know I will have to eventually take to finish out my Bachelors and proceed with grad school. But after spending two years away from my daughter, my only priority is spending as much time as humanly possible with her.

Sure she won’t remember those first two years that I was gone, but I certainly do.

I missed a lot of her firsts: her first time rolling over, her first word, her first steps. But I can’t wait to be here for the remainder of her firsts, and every other moment, both important and unimportant. School will always be there, and I will always have an opportunity to finish what I started. But my baby will only be my baby for so long, and spending time with her and watching her grow is more valuable than any additional piece of paper (and additional $100k in student loan debt).

I hope this story will inspire anyone else going through a similar issue; whether it be an unplanned pregnancy, or any life circumstance that might be limiting your ability to pursue your dreams. I thank God every single day for allowing me to have the strong family support that enabled me and encouraged me to continue my education and not be another “teen mom” statistic. However, I know not everyone can be as lucky as I am with a supportive family.

Whether you are surrounded by a loving and caring support system or you’re totally on your own, always remember that you have the capability to do anything you set your mind to. Eleanor Roosevelt once said, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” People told me time and time again that “my life was over” and I had “ruined my life”, even those I thought were closest to me. The funny thing about that is, a large majority of the people who told me that, never finished college themselves, or are barely scraping by to pass. How’s that for karma for you.

Moral of the story is: No one can tell you “you can’t” or “you won’t”, every decision you make is a reflection of your inner strength and your inner determination to succeed. You can’t “kind of” want it, you can’t just think about it… whatever you do, whatever you set your mind to, you have to WANT it. You have to want it so bad, you’re willing to do whatever it takes to get you there. It’s not going to be easy, it’s going to be really hard. You’re not going to sleep, and you’re going to survive off of m&m’s and popcorn. It’s not going to be a walk in the park, and you’re going to miss out on a lot of things your peers get to do.

But you have to find that inner strength and desire to throw the rule book out the window, let any comments from people telling you that you can’t roll right off your back, and always keep your goals in the front of your mind and allow your dreams to lead you. I went through my entire college career reminding myself every day of this quote…  “Believe in yourself and all that you are. Know that there is something inside of you greater than any obstacle.”

My entire life can be summed up in one sentence: it didn’t go as planned, and that’s okay.

And despite my desperate attempts through my time in gymnastics and running, my struggle with eating disorders throughout high school, and my time in college, I have finally learned that there is no such thing as perfection. There is no perfect number, no perfect person, and no perfect situation that will determine how successful you will be. Success comes from within, it comes from a passionate drive and unwavering determination to succeed.

Today, myself and many of those around me would consider me to be successful, and guess what, there is no number dictating “how” successful I am.

The biggest lesson I have learned through everything I have made it through in this life is to strive for progress, not perfection. Don’t let perfection be the enemy of good and great. What you put in, you will get out. As for me, I will continue to have dreams to chase and goals to achieve, but I am perfectly okay with my imperfect life.

At the time, I thought it was a sign that I never got an actual acceptance letter to Virginia Tech. I remember logging onto the application site one night at the request of my high school counselor; I glanced quickly across the screen, trying to find the proper button to hit to get me where I needed to go.

My gaze slid to a stop when I saw the words, “pay your deposit here,” in the middle of the screen in all-caps. It was such an insignificant moment; I wasn’t anxiously slitting open a thick envelope shaking with excitement, a moment so many of my friends talk about fondly.

I was staring at a glowing laptop screen that—despite the lack of the word, “congratulations,” was telling me that I had been accepted to Virginia Tech—and I felt nothing. I never wanted to go to Virginia Tech; I never even considered applying until my older brother, a freshman at Tech while I was applying to schools, begged me to apply. Even my parents, both alumni of the University of Virginia, told me I had to apply, that it would be a mistake if I didn’t.

My heart was dead-set on another college, but because my family insisted, I applied to Virginia Tech with what could only be described as a begrudging attitude.

Spring rolled around and for one of the first times in my life, so did the rejections; one after another came in, each one with the worst anxiety-riddled word stamped on the pages: waitlisted. Was it worse to be not wanted at all or to be pushed into the category of “you’re not quite good enough”? It felt like being told that I had all the qualifications, but unfortunately didn’t stand out enough to make the cut. I wasn’t special enough.

Before I knew it, I had little to no options and I found myself for the first time facing the possibility of something I had never considered: going to Virginia Tech. Everyone I knew that went to Virginia Tech told me to wait—wait for that moment, they said. You’ll fall in love with Virginia Tech. Just wait until you get to campus. I waited. I went to orientation, had the most incredible orientation leader in the world, and had as good of a time as anyone could have at orientation. But I left with a pit in my stomach; yes, my orientation leader had made me excited about going to college, but I wasn’t excited about where I was going to college.

Though I had heard people talking about going to something called Hokie Camp, I didn’t even bother looking into it—why would I want to go to another experience like orientation where I would be surrounded by people who were in love with Virginia Tech? I’m one of the most outgoing people I know, but I also knew that I could be very good at putting on a front so as to appear like I fit in. I didn’t want to start putting up my fake “I love Virginia Tech” front before classes even started.

So I waited until I got to campus. The entire first semester, my thoughts constantly shifted between knowing that I was loving the college experience in general and knowing that if I was honest with myself, I was unhappy. I didn’t want to be at Virginia Tech; it was so hard to change my mindset from having my heart set on one school my whole life to being thrown into a sea of die hard Hokies. I hated the idea of being a failure though and I didn’t want to think that I failed at Virginia Tech, so I tried everything I could to give Tech a chance. I got into a freshmen leadership program, I joined a sorority, I met some of the most life changing people I’d ever known.

I put up the front of being the most dedicated, in love Hokie you’ve ever met, hoping that if I faked it enough it would become true.

All the while, I had a half filled out transfer application saved on my laptop. There’s a cheesy quote out there that says something along the lines of, “I fell in love the way you fall asleep; slowly, and then all at once.”

I fell in love with Virginia Tech very, very, very slowly (painfully slow)—and then all at once. The slowly part was over the course of my first two years at Virginia Tech. I began to learn that the walls I had built had been constructed from heartbreak; heartbreak that had stemmed from expectations. I had been shutting myself off because of the expectations I had held in my head about where I was supposed to be, and how it was supposed to be. Bit by bit, or more accurately, person by person, I began to see what everyone had been telling me to wait for. I stopped working on my transfer application and instead began spending all my free time looking up to these incredible people I was lucky enough to have for mentors.

These people were Virginia Tech for me. When I wasn’t in love with Virginia Tech, when I couldn’t see past the walls I had built up for so long, they showed me how to open myself up and how to let Virginia Tech love me, so that I could love it. The all at once part happened at Hokie Camp. During my sophomore year, I was hit by how far I had come since crying to my mom on the phone at night when I was a freshman. I realized that the only reason I had stayed was because of my mentors that had made Tech home. I had found reasons to stay, but it took me a while to find them because of all the walls I had built up. I thought to myself, if I could shorten the amount of time it takes for even one incoming student to find their reasons to stay, than everything would be worth it.

That’s how I found myself standing at Smith Mountain Lake on August 10th, 2014, falling in love with Virginia Tech, all at once.

Over the course of four training semesters, two summers, 22 days, and five Hokie Camp campfires, I found myself falling in love with Virginia Tech so quickly and so repeatedly that I felt my heart could burst. Being at Hokie Camp was like being in the most pure form of the Virginia Tech community—I was surrounded by everything that I had been waiting for, and I got to experience it alongside students who were discovering that feeling for the first time.

Every minute I spent at Hokie Camp, all I could think about was channeling the strength and love I had learned from my mentors and trying to find a way to pass those feelings down. All I ever wanted was to convey that no matter where you were on the road to falling in love with Virginia Tech—no matter how in love you were, or how against it you felt—that all you had to do was stay. Wait for those people that could show you how to let Virginia Tech love you.

My whole heart ached with the hope that these students, having already taken their first step by going to Hokie Camp, could leave for school having found even one of those people.

Today, nothing makes me feel more at home at Virginia Tech than when I see Hokie campers on campus with their people. Nothing has ever given me more joy than hearing two weeks, or two years, down the road how in love they are with Virginia Tech. I was lucky enough to find my people, and lucky enough to have them save me from leaving a school that has become a part of my very being.

I’ve been even luckier to have 22 days of helping incoming students fall in love with Virginia Tech. I was extraordinarily blessed to have experienced the majority of those 22 days with 13 people who held inside each of them the love and selflessness that makes people fall head over heels for Virginia Tech. I wouldn’t be as deeply in love with Virginia Tech if it weren’t for the people that helped me on the road to becoming the person I had always aspired to be. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I never once imagined myself coming to Virginia Tech; I wasted so much time planning when I could leave, asking myself if I was out of the woods yet.

I never would have expected finding my home, right there, in the woods. Looking at it now, I’ve never been happier to have been so wrong.

As a gymnast, flipping through the air on a four inch beam requires the highest level of concentration and balance. I have spent over 15 years of my life practicing balance beam, and at times, I still lose my balance.

In life, just like gymnastics, balance is one of the hardest skills to achieve and also one of the most important. I believe it is a lifelong, learning process that requires self-discipline and adaptability. Achieving success as a student-athlete in the classroom and in competition is absolutely impossible without it; and I have learned this lesson the hard way.

My life as a high-school student and club gymnast consisted of two things: school and gymnastics. School was never too much of a challenge for me.

I stayed on top of my school work, managed to get A’s and B’s, and focused the majority of my time and effort on my passion…gymnastics.

My hard work in the gym paid off, and I was given the opportunity to compete at the collegiate level on full athletic scholarship. Something I will forever be grateful for.

I had two realizations after my first semester of college: school is hard; and I love being social.

However, college presented itself with a whole new set of challenges. I had two realizations after my first semester of college: school is hard; and I love being social. Because I spent the majority of my life prior to college in the gym, my social life was nonexistent, other than my teammates who were more like sisters to me; but I was completely fine with that.

My drive and determination to excel in gymnastics and compete for the best college in the country (UGA) trumped any desire to have a social life.

June, 2013, I moved into the dorms at UGA. I was suddenly surrounded by hundreds of people that shared the same love of sport that I have. We all spent our entire existence dedicated to our sport, something that few people understand.

I made so many friends freshman year. Often times, I would sacrifice studying for hanging out with friends. It wasn’t long before my GPA began to suffer. I knew I had to make a change.

Instead of limiting the amount of time I spent socializing, I began to sacrifice sleep; and believe me when I tell you, I need sleep! I quickly realized that playing egg toss in the hallways until 1 a.m. with the swimmers that lived next door, or teaching the baseball players how to do flips on the couch (luckily there were no serious injuries) was not the wisest use of my time. My lack of sleep was beginning to affect my concentration in the classroom and in the gym.

My body couldn’t keep up. I was tired, overwhelmed, and stressed. I was off balance.

Sophomore came with nagging injury, maybe resulting from a lack of focus, that added to my stress and frustration. I wanted to be healthy, I wanted to compete, I wanted to reach my full potential in the sport I love, and in the classroom. I needed BALANCE.

I knew my struggles in the gym and school were God’s way of telling me, “you have to make a change.”

I needed to prioritize.

I needed to invest my time into relationships that would last a lifetime rather than sacrificing my studies or sleep for friends that are there for me only when it’s convenient for them. I knew this transition wouldn’t happen overnight.

It was going to take me exerting self-discipline in consistently making good decisions that would put me in a position to reach my full potential in all areas of life. I knew it would be tough, but God creates His toughest soldiers through life’s hardest battles.

The end of my sophomore season as a gym dog was steadily approaching, and things were finally beginning to look up. My ankles were almost at 100% and my GPA was on the rise.

I continued to strive to make good decisions with my time. Taking on a support role for the beginning of the season was new to me, but it taught me to be encouraging, patient, and hungry for the spotlight again. I sought out every opportunity to prove myself in the gym.

I would say a prayer every time, “God, pleeeease let her call my name. I want to compete soooo bad.” But every time I heard, “…and Morgan will be the alternate.”

The last few meets of the regular season were upon us. When Coach Danna Durante began to call out the lineups for the upcoming meet, everyone was silent. I would say a prayer every time, “God, pleeeease let her call my name. I want to compete soooo bad.” But every time I heard, “…and Morgan will be the alternate.” I had to take this as a challenge. A challenge to work even harder in the gym; to continue to push my teammates and prove that I was ready to compete.

The last meet of the season was at home vs Utah. Danna called out the lineups; but this time, I was not an alternate. I was competing second on beam and first on floor! I was excited and ready.

That night, I competed with a new appreciation for the opportunity to compete as a gym dog.

I hit had a solid beam routine, followed by a memorable floor routine to tie my career high score of 9.9. I secured my spot in both lineups going into post season. My team and I went on to win Regionals, and then later placed 9th at the NCAA Championships.

Halfway through my college career, and I continue to strive for balance in all areas of my life. It is a lifelong process. With different stages in life, come different things to balance. Prioritize what’s important, rely on God to take care of things out of our control, and live a peaceful, balanced life full of happiness rather than stress and anxiety.

My name is Erika Evans. I am 22 years old. I have been attending college for 4 years now, yet still have the academic standing of a freshman. I have made bad choices. I love dogs. And I have Borderline Personality Disorder.

The last part is something I recently discovered about myself. Or at least the proper noun for what it was I was feeling. I was diagnosed almost a year ago after a bad night where I took a knife to my wrist and cried myself to sleep in my closet over an ex-boyfriend. BPD is essentially bipolar, depression, extreme emotional responses, and a dash of instability when it comes to relationships.

“Treatment” is not what I would call whatever has happened in the last year. I tried therapy and didn’t like it. When I am at rest, I know how to logically handle situations, but when I am all caught up, the only thing I know how to do is make an irrational decision based on emotion. So, when my therapist was just giving me logical advise, my answer was “no shit.” Probably another sign of my BPD.

With the diagnosis came a lot of answers to certain things I was feeling and a lot of questions about everything else.

What does it mean? Is there a cure? Will medication turn me into a different person? Can I afford to treat this mental illness for the rest of my life? And so the anxiety ridden person is thrown another load of anxiety with the diagnosis.

Then summer began and I stopped going to therapy. Probably not my best move. Instead I spent a summer full of erratic behavior that included working every day and blacking out every night. And during those blackouts came eating various late-night calzones and going home with random boys. One of my friends compared it to masturbation just with another human-being instead of your own hand. There was no feelings, even though I tried to stir some up just to see if I could feel something. Nada.

Fall semester was much of the same, although I did try therapy again which included adding another medication to my Prozac that would help treat the depression as well as the anxiety. My parents announced that they would be getting a divorce, and my mom ran away to Iowa for a few months to try and figure out her own mental illness. And the guiltless spending continued on food, alcohol, and uber.

It was taking so much energy to be normal, and I think I finally got tired. So here I am now.

Withdrawn from school and looking for another path. I keep waiting for some kind of ah-ha moment. Some kind of moment of clarity for an answer to just appear to me. Still nothing. I’ve taken long showers, gone for a long drive in the country, taken walks- anything that your typical movie scene moment would include. Except for the life-altering decision to be made.

I’m stuck. But the main thing that I keep reminding myself is that I’m not the only one stuck. Whether you’re about to graduate from college with no idea what career your future holds, you’re changing majors, or you’ve decided that school is all too much like me, there are so many other people struggling with you. And maybe it’s a fucked up thing to say that we’re all clueless as to what we’re doing. But I feel comforted by the fact that there are so many of us aimlessly wandering to figure out the answers in life. And I suppose that’s why I feel the need to write and share my deepest secrets here. So that maybe you won’t feel alone either.

#MORETHANMYSPORT

Over the past year, more than 50 student athletes have shared their story on Wish Dish from across the country. If you read some of these stories, you will notice that many of these stories share consistencies such as injury, faith, anxiety, depression, isolation, identity, and suicide.

While student-athletes might struggle with similar pressures of college students, we have also learned that student-athletes are some of the most passionate and driven people. Simply, they are not defined just by their sport. The adversities in their sport make them better people … lessons that apply to their everyday life.

From all of our conversations, we decided to launch a campaign focusing on self-identity called #morethanmysport to allow athletes to share who they are beyond their sport. This campaign was well received, connected student-athletes closer together, and started the spark for athletes around the country to realize they are so much more than just their sport.

Mary Terry, University of Georgia, Track & Field

What do cosmic brownies, old people, and Zac Galifinakis all have in common? Mary Terry loves all of them (Even though they have absolutely nothing to do with running. Watch Mary’s video to learn about more of her favorite things.

Connor Messick, University of Virginia, Golf

Connor may one-day hope to be a professional golfer, but in the mean time, he can still travel the world and whip up a batch of delicious chocolate-chip pancakes. What Connor’s video to find out what else he does when he’s not on the golf course.

Keturah Orji, University of Georgia, Track & Field

As much as Keturah loves track and field, she loves Jesus even more, and as fast as she may run, she’s even faster at solving a Rubik’s cube. Watch Keturah’s video to find out just how long it takes her to solve a Rubik’s cube.

Leontia Kellenou, University of Georgia, Track & Field

Leontia probably wishes she could use her high jump skills to propel herself 7,000 miles to her home in Cyprus whenever she wanted. But instead she must wait for summer to go visit her family and friends. Watch Lenotia’s video to find out what she loves (and doesn’t love) about her home.

Meaghan Raab, University of Georgia, Swimming

Two truths and one line: Meaghan has moved seven times. She once had a massive bouncy ball collection. And she can recite every line of Tangled. You can find out which of these facts is true by watching Meaghan’s video.

Tatiana Gusin, University of Georgia, Track & Field

Tatiana plays one sport, but she’s lived in two different cities called Athens and speaks four different languages. You can count on some more fun facts about Tatiana if you watch her video.

Mady Fagan, University of Georgia, Track & Field

Mady might be known for the power in her legs, but did you know that she’s just as skilled with her hands? Check out some of Mady’s drawings and paintings by watching her video.

Bridget Sloan, University of Florida, Gymnast

The clothes that Bridget wears while she is doing gymnastics are just as important to her as the sport itself. And her love for all things fabric doesn’t stop there. Watch Bridget’s video to find out what we mean.

Reed Scott, University of South Carolina, Baseball

Reed is a team player when it comes to baseball, but he is just as much of a team player off the field too. Watch Reed’s video to learn about all of the different ways that he loves to contribute to his community.

Chantal Van, University of Georgia Swimmer

Being an Olympic swimmer doesn’t stop Chantal from indulging in all sorts of junk food, and being a bad dancer and singer doesn’t stop her from shamelessly busting out her moves. Watch Chantal’s video to learn about more things you might not know about her.

If you are student athlete or former student athlete and want to connect to our athletics community, please ask to join from this link. We look forward to empowering student-athletes around the country to express themselves and connect in meaningful ways.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/167710410323239/

When you decide to become a college athlete people tend to tell you all of the horror stories that come along with it. They tell you about conditioning, the long nights and early mornings, and the responsibility that comes along with it. But what they don’t tell you about becoming a college athlete is that…

You’ll be blessed with a roommate that has been such a blessing in your life. A roommate that started as a walk on but worked hard and did everything it took to earn a full scholarship. You won’t know that the girl that you were too afraid to say hey to outside of Jervey will be your teammate and road roommate. They don’t tell you that your roommate will help you through one of the most difficult times in your life. And they don’t tell you that Vee will become a part of your family and you’ll become a part of hers.

They don’t tell you how competitive and determined your teammate will be. How she’s one of the first in the gym and one of the last to leave. They don’t tell you that she’s so selfless and will go out of her way to do things to help you. That she’s shy and quiet when you first meet, but one of the goofiest people you’ll ever meet. And they don’t tell you that if you ever tell Nelly that she can’t do something, she will prove you wrong.

They don’t tell you that you’ll have a hairdresser on the team that runs House of Beauty. That she is the most girly and prissy person you’ll ever meet, but she’s also wiling to listen and offer helpful advice with whatever you’re going through. They don’t tell you that MK will come to your house whenever you have a rough day and bring Spill the Beans to make everything better.

When you decide to play a sport in college, they don’t tell you that you’ll meet someone who wears Nike all the time. You wont hear that her laugh is contagious and she has the best taste of music. They don’t tell you that she’s competitive at whatever she’s doing. And they definitely don’t tell you that Lex will dance at any moment.

They don’t tell you that you’ll have an Italian teammate that is one of the funniest people you will ever meet. She’ll tell you exactly how she feels no matter the situation and make you laugh while doing it. They don’t tell you that she works so hard in the classroom and is one of the smartest people you’ll ever meet. You won’t know that she can sing almost every song that comes on the radio, but has no idea what they mean. They don’t tell you that Franny has the meanest Euro step in the game.

They won’t tell you that you’ll have a Canadian teammate who knows how to have a good time. You won’t know that she will say whatever is on her mind no matter who is around. They don’t tell you that she’ll try to get everyone to listen to Dancehall and that Sirah is one of the kindest people you’ll meet.

They don’t tell you that you’ll have a teammate that doesn’t talk much, but when she does she has something to say. She can be closed off at times, but you’ll learn more about her as time goes on. They won’t tell you that she’s strong and fast and takes no prisoners on the court. You won’t know that even though she barely spoke her freshman year, you could pick her laugh out of a crowd of millions. They wont tell you that KP is an observer and one of the funniest people you will ever meet.

For some reason they fail to bring up the teammate who seems to never run out of energy. The one that is everywhere on every play and is one of the hardest working people you’ve ever met. You won’t know that she has the funniest facial expressions and always has a clap back for whatever you come at her with. They don’t tell you that Li is full of random facts for every day.

They fail to tell you that you’ll meet a guard that came in ready to make an impact on the team. They don’t tell you that she will always be one of the best-dressed people that I’ve ever met. You wont know that she looks out for the people around her and has a heart of gold. You won’t know that Dani is leaves an impact on someone everywhere she goes.

I wish someone would have told me that I would bond with the freshman in just a few months and they would feel just as much like family as the people that I already spent a year to two years with.

I wonder why no one told me that I would have a teammate from “Bawdimore” who is absolutely hilarious. They didn’t tell me that her dance moves are terrible but she makes up for it by how much she enjoys dancing. You won’t know that she’s scatterbrained and sometimes you have no idea what she’s talking about until you ask more than once. They don’t tell you that Jaia says whatever comes to her mind no matter how it comes out, but she’s one of the best people to be around because of her amazing personality.

They don’t tell you that you’ll meet someone with such a STRONG southern accent that she has to clarify what she’s saying. You won’t be told that she is one of the most down to earth people that you will ever meet. She may not say a lot, but if you listen hard you’ll hear Kobi’s quick and funny comments under everyone else talking.

You won’t hear about the girl who’s completely independent and seems to have everything together. They don’t tell you how hard she works to get what she wants. They tend to leave out that your little sister Kayce is all about the team and brings so much energy to every practice and workout.

People fail to tell you that you’ll meet of one the most random people that you’ve ever met. They don’t tell you that she has a nickname for everyone that matches her bubbly personality. If you watch closely you’ll find her dancing to whatever song is playing. When see her you can pick her out by her love of socks and her curly hair and after you meet her you’ll never forget Chyna.

You’ll never hear about the girl from Cali who is one of the coolest people you’ll ever meet. You won’t hear that she’s so selfless and cares so much about the people around her. They don’t tell you that you’ll love her style and the way she dresses, but most importantly you won’t know that SiSi is a hard worker in everything she does.

What they don’t tell you when you decide to become a college athlete is that you’ll be blessed with not only teammates, but also a family.

I am a college student dealing with my daily depression and social anxiety.

I have a constant internal struggle because I suffer from loneliness, but having social anxiety makes me afraid to put myself out there to new people. I want to build connections, but I’m too afraid of being rejected. So, I stay at home, often alone. At first, I chalked it up to just being annoyed by daily occurrences, but then I wanted to be alone too often. I would find comfort behind a closed door in silence, but knowing the need to progress, I knew I needed to make a change.

I was going through a rough patch when I first met my cat Cali, and I absolutely fell in love.

She was the cutest and sweetest kitten I ever met. Her head was way too big for her body, and the way she always looked lost and confused warmed my heart. I hadn’t been much of an animal lover. Even when my mother bought me a puppy for my sixteenth birthday I said, “Mom, I don’t even like dogs.” This time though, it was different. I took her home from the shelter and I began to spend even more time at home, but this time, I wasn’t alone. Cali was with me.

People laugh when I say that I love Cali, but I do (probably too much). She keeps me company when I’m lonely. She gives me space when I need it. She loves cuddling in the morning (which I am not too fond of because I’m not a morning person), but no matter what my day has been like, she is always there for me; no questions asked. I don’t have to explain myself to her, or feel inadequate when I say the wrong thing.

She took  a lonely suicidal college student, and gave me piece of mind and love. Of course, human interaction is still a necessary treatment to loneliness, but with Cali, I have more confidence to meet new people. She’s taught me how to love unconditionally, even when she wakes me up at 4am by sitting on my face, or when she scratches holes in new t-shirts. Cali has also taught me how to love myself. She’s taught me that I am good enough.

It may seem as though I saved Cali when I brought her home from the shelter that day, but actually, she saved me.