The tradition of weekly Wednesday night dinners in Athens evolved from my family. It all started in Calvary, Georgia. For as long as I can remember,  Family Night has been a weekly tradition of putting all work aside, relaxing, cooking amazing food, and gathering family together around the table.

My older cousins Bradley Jones, Chaz, and Emily Oliver originally got Family Night started in Athens when they first came to the University of Georgia. They began hosting weekly dinners and inviting their closest friends.

Eventually, the group grew to include boyfriends, girlfriends, roommates, neighbors, and friends of friends. It was also a great way of meeting new people because everyone was so welcoming. When I came up to Athens to attend UGA, I also joined and gained a whole new group of lifelong friends.

Although most of us weren’t related, we still considered ourselves a family. Food can do that to people.

Eventually, it became a much larger group of friends that came from the University of Georgia, North Georgia College, Athens Technical College, and even graduates that were still living around the Athens area.

Most of us have known each other for years, but meeting new people wasn’t uncommon and they usually returned and were welcomed back with open arms. On average, we had about 15-20 members attending Family Night every week.

We would take turns hosting and cooking dinners. It wasn’t a pizza take out kind of thing. We’re talking about home-cooked meals y’all. It was definitely a challenge cooking for such a large group of people, but time spent with “family” was well worth it and so was the food!

When these sorts of events happened, we went all out. All the family members prepared and brought their best home cooked meal for the feast. We even got really competitive on who could cook the best meals and celebrated special occasions such as Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Around Christmas, we would dress up in our tackiest attire and take a picture to send to our own families to put on the refrigerator.

Family night was a great way to drop everything and come together to keep in touch with friends and family when times got busy. It was the one-day of the week where we could just relax and catch up. If we didn’t have this once a week, I probably wouldn’t have even seen my family or closest friends as much as I did and that’s something I truly treasure.

If someone couldn’t attend, we made sure they were sent a take-home plate. Because let’s face it, everyone has to eat during a stressful test or project and there’s no better meal than a home-cooked one prepared with love from their “family.”

“Is it okay if I bring my dog?” The answer was always yes! After all, dogs are family too. They were brought over to enjoy company from the humans as well as other furry friends. Our pets weren’t left out of the scrumptious meals either. They were also served part of our feast or as my granddad, Big Daddy, used to say, “the crumbs under the table.”

Because most of us were college kids, we typically didn’t eat the best food. Eating out was our go-to because it was a quick and easy fix.

Family night was a way to have a good home-cooked meal at least once a week and reunite with our friends. It is one of my best college memories.

Now that I’ve graduated, I plan to continue to carry on this tradition in Atlanta and wherever life takes me. Cooking is more than just about eating: it is something that ties people together.

It doesn’t get much better than gathering with friends and family, meeting new people, cooking great meals, making new memories, and passing on our beloved family tradition! Cheers!

I was born in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, during the turbulent Civil Rights Movement in 1968, the year which epitomized the era with the assassinations of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Bobby Kennedy. The Red Stick has always been a catalyst for change, even if she was often times an unintentional participate.

Peaceful protesters overshadowed by armed militants.

The Baton Rouge I grew up in is not the same that I see today. My childhood in Baton Rouge was idyllic in that it was filled with all the treasures that children hold dear.

We existed in a microcosm that afforded exposure to the arts, sports, culture, and a rich heritage because we grew up in the shadows of a historic black college.

So, when I think of Baton Rouge, I think of Southern University, Dixie cups, Tabby’s Blues Box, the Ann Theater, Tony’s Seafood, debutante balls, Mardi Gras, Park Vista, the Scotlandville Branch of the East Baton Rouge Public Library, Ethel’s Snack Shack, teacakes, football, Ryan Elementary, family, and home.

To others it conjures up visions of Mike the Tiger, Highland Road, the LSU lakes, and all things south Baton Rouge.

Yet, I have always known that Baton Rouge, despite her greatness and location at the mouth of the mighty Mississippi, has been a mistress of sorts because of NOLA.

My Baton Rouge has always been in the thick of things, even if unwittingly.

On June 19, 1953, the African-American residents of Baton Rouge launched a historic bus boycott because black people were forced to sit in the back of the bus, even when the front of the bus was empty. It became known as the 1953 Baton Rouge Bus Boycott.

The demands for black riders to ride in the front of the bus, but still refrain from sitting next to whites, was supported by the City Council initially and it led to the passing of Ordinance 222.

However, the all-white fleet of bus drivers refused to enforce the ordinance and it was later overturned after the drivers went on strike. The bus drivers’ strike lasted four days. The drivers returned to work after the ordinance was overturned and declared victory.

1953 Baton Rouge Bus Boycott

However, a local minister, Rev. T. J. Jemison, had a call to conscious and he helped organize the United Defense League and a boycott in a response to the decision to overturn the ordinance by the Louisiana Attorney General.

Residents met in four mass meetings and raised $6,000 in just two days. About 14,000 of residents refused to board the city’s buses and instead received rides in free taxis and in private cars. About 125 private cars were used in the boycott.

The boycott ended six days after it began with Ordinance 251.

Black riders filled the bus from the rear forward and whites filled the bus from the front to the back. Blacks and whites were still prohibited from sitting next to each other.

Two front seats were off-limits to black riders and only black riders could occupy the wide rear seat in the back of the bus. Blacks made up about 80 percent of the ridership, so the boycott had an economic impact on the city’s transportation system and on the broader Civil Rights Movement.

The fight for social justice in sleepy Baton Rouge in 1953, including the free car ride system that was implemented during bus boycott, served as a model for the internationally known 1955 Montgomery Bus Boycott.

This resulted in Browder v. Gayle, the U.S. District Court case on Montgomery and Alabama state bus segregation laws, which ultimately resulted in a U.S. Supreme Court decision declaring Alabama and Montgomery laws require segregated buses be unconstitutional.

The 1953 Baton Rouge Bus boycott also inspired residents to mobilize around other issues, such as securing the right to vote.

So, Baton Rouge is no novice to civil rights movements or protests. She has long shined the light on disturbing inequities by forcing others to explore racial disparities.

Victims, Leonard Brown and Denver Smith

As a college student at Southern University, Baton Rouge, in the ’80s, I was all too familiar with protesting and its often heartbreaking cost.

I still remember when – nearly 46 years ago – Denver Smith and Leonard Brown, two African-American students from my alma mater, were killed on campus by white sheriff deputies during a peaceful protest on November 16, 1972.

The two victims were taking part in a peaceful, unarmed protest by African-American students who gathered at the university’s administration building to protest against the administration officials and their policies. Protests were ongoing as students fought for a greater voice in school affairs and the resignation of certain administrators.

Several student protesters had been arrested the previous night, and the students who entered the administration building on November 16 sought their release.

State police and sheriff’s deputies entered the administration building with firearms and tear gas. When they left, two students, Denver Smith and Leonard Brown, lay dead.

Louisiana’s governor, Edwin Edwards, ordered the campus closed and declared a state of emergency for Baton Rouge, claiming that these “militant” students posed a threat.

National Guard troops and police wearing riot gear patrolled Southern University. The deputies denied shooting the young men.

Governor Edwards said the fatal shots might have accidentally come from the deputies’ guns, or might have come from any of several other sources: “It is obvious there are discrepancies and questions…In the heat of that kind of situation, even if someone accidentally took a buckshot shell out of his pocket, loaded it, and shot it, he would not be able to tell himself afterwards whether he had done it.”

Edwards ordered an investigation, but the shooter or shooters were never identified. The official report by State Attorney General William Guste determined that the shots came from a sheriff’s deputy but it could not prove which deputy fired the shot. Guste recommended that the District Attorney consider criminal prosecution after the investigating committee concluded no students had firearms, tear gas, grenades, or other weapons.

After over four decades, no one has been tried or convicted for the murder. The victims’ families tried to file several lawsuits, but they were unsuccessful. Lawyers in town would not talk to the families and those that did were run out of town.

Nevertheless, over 40 years later, the legacy of Smith and Brown continues to live on.

When the old Administration Building was destroyed in a fire in 1991, a memorial stone was placed on campus near the spot where the students were shot.

I can remember being terribly disappointed as a third grader to learn that former Governor Edwards had not done more for these victims.

It was especially troubling because as a St. Anthony Elementary School first grader, Edwards had selected me to read a book with him in the rotunda of the state capital and so I always had deep admiration and respect for him.

There was no justice for these students, but the Smith-Brown Memorial Union honors them. During my matriculation at the university, it’s now the gathering place for many students to challenge the administration and to speak out against injustice on campus and in our community.

So, civil unrest and protest is nothing new in Baton Rouge. Nor is she new to being a catalyst for change.

Baton Rouge offers a considerable number of economic strengths and assets. Baton Rouge is a major center for higher education. Southern University, Louisiana State University, Baton Rouge Community College, and multiple trade schools are all located in the City-Parish, graduating 5,000 to 7,000 students every year and providing a wider platform for research, innovation, and workforce development.

However, there is great socioeconomic disparity in Baton Rouge despite there not being much divide on the educational level.

These socioeconomic challenges include broader quality-of-life factors, such as concerns about public safety; the quality of the public K-12 school system; low air and water quality; a continuing population shift to the outlying parts of the Parish and other parishes; and acute economic and racial disparity within the City-Parish.

These factors have broader effects, both direct and indirect, on the economy of the City-Parish. For instance, local university graduates continue to seek employment opportunities and a better quality of life in other southern cities, such as Houston, Charlotte, and Atlanta.

Employers report difficulty in recruiting and retaining a qualified workforce, which affects the city’s ability to keep existing businesses and recruit new employers. In recent years, traffic congestion has moved toward the top of the list of challenges facing businesses and employees in Baton Rouge.

There is great economic disparity between the haves and have-nots in Baton Rouge that is not distinguished by color. There is poverty and affluence, educated and uneducated, and none of it has anything to do with color.

Poverty is real for many in Baton Rouge. Teachers, firefighters, and law enforcement are tremendously underpaid.

However, the problem in Baton Rouge is that the socioeconomically challenged have the same hard luck stories, whether white or black, and they cannot appreciate that their lives mirror each other.

Since I know the true story of Baton Rouge’s underbelly I cannot help but cringe and weep when I see recent images from my hometown. They are cringe-worthy images because what is at the root of Baton Rouge’s ailments is economics, not what is being told.

Even after discovering through life experiences that we are all more alike than not, some are reared to believe they are very different. That harsh reality for some is too raw, too real.

All of Baton Rouge, all of Louisiana, was hoodwinked by former Governor Bobby Jindal, but where was her protest then? Her shock, her anger, her commentary? It is also particularly frustrating that Mayor Holden has remained silent and opted to lobby in Washington for a project that offers little, if no, benefit to the community at large. Where is the leadership? How are they all absent in the wake of this?

I hope my final thoughts and prayers bring encouragement to Baton Rouge.

Early in my legal career, when I was General Counsel of the East Baton Rouge Parish Housing Authority, I worked closely with the Baton Rouge Police Department (BRPD) and my community-policing program was a success in controlling criminal activity, building trust, and rapport with tenants.

Properly training law enforcement officers to build ties with and work closely with members of their communities is critical if we want officers and citizens have a greater respect for each other.

July 9, 2016, a protester is grabbed by police officers after she refused to leave the motorway in front of the the Baton Rouge Police Department Headquarters.

I love Baton Rouge – she is home – so I am always hopeful. I know that it has always been a catalyst of change. Baton Rouge has encouraged change all around her.

However, just because some things are different does not mean anything has changed. Baton Rouge has largely remained the city of her troubled past and that saddens me.

Yet I know positive change is always possible where truth exists. Change is a necessary element of growth. If we change, we grow. If we do not change, we begin to stagnate and decay. That is the simple truth about change.

And we should all be reminded of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s 1963 “Letter from a Birmingham Jail” where he said, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”

Therefore, my prayer for my hometown and communities everywhere is that they are bold, brave, courageous, and humble. I pray that they always remember to have empathy in your hearts. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Step 1: Self-Destruction

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

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

Step 2: Beginning Recovery

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

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

Step 3: Embrace Your Flaws

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

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

Step 4: Find What Makes You Happy

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

Step 5: Cut out Toxins

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

Step 6: Learning to Love Yourself Again

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Me advertising for Active Minds

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“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 am an avid gamer, I love video games, and for a while video games were the only thing I had going for me. Skyrim, Dark Souls, Civilization, all of these games can be set to varying degrees of difficulty. Most games start you out on a “standard” mode. If my life were a video game, I would have been started on Hard Mode.

In April 2013, I was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder. In February 2015, my diagnoses was changed to Bipolar Disorder. No matter the label, I have been living with my mental illness since I was at least twelve years old.

I don’t entirely remember when it started, I just remember family and friends telling me to “stop being so negative all the time.”

My story really begins at the end of sixth grade. My parents and I decided that it was okay for me to skip seventh grade and go straight into 8th grade so I could go to a prestigious private high school in my hometown. It seemed like a good idea at the time. At this private school, 8th grade is part of high school, so here I was, a twelve year old going into high school. I was pretty excited for this new chapter in life.

Turns out being the youngest, most naïve, and physically weak member of your class isn’t good for your social life. I was awkward as I was just hitting my growth spurt. I was socially awkward because I was always socially awkward. Needless to say I wasn’t in the popular crowd. In fact I wasn’t in a crowd at all. I was alone.

Loneliness sucks, especially when people go out of their way to make your life absolute hell. Every chance they got, insults were hurled at me. Never fists, only insults. I scurried around the school, frightened of the next verbal assault. It got so bad that I refused to change for gym in the boy’s locker room, as I couldn’t stand being in a tightly packed room with my bullies able to hurl their insults at will.

I eventually got fed up and reported my bullies to the school. It worked, the insults stopped, however I was shunned by the majority of my class for getting the ringleader of the bullies suspended.

I was just as alone as ever.

Fast forward to senior year of high school. I now had friends, I had a few girlfriends in the intervening years, life was supposed to be going well, but it wasn’t. I was always negative, always “in a funk” I was always the one that killed the happy mood.

My negativity made it hard to keep friends around, though thankfully a few stuck with me. After senior year I went to college at Auburn University. It was not my first choice school, but it was the only one I received a scholarship for. It was the Army ROTC scholarship. I hoped Auburn would see me turn over a new leaf, that in the promised land of college, I would finally hit my stride and flourish socially and academically. That new leaf didn’t turn.

Early in the semester my new roommate and I had a physical altercation. The fight centered around him waking me by urinating on me while he was drunk. I may or may not have hit him… I was considered at fault by the University, so they gave me my own room. I would have no roommates. I was alone.

From then on I lead a miserable existence. The depressive part of bipolar disorder consumed me. I felt that my very soul was being tortured by this depression. I quit ROTC because I couldn’t handle it mentally and as a result, I lost my scholarship.

I had no friends within a hundred miles, and my pervasive horribly negative and fatalistic mood was pushing away the ones that were already far away. I hated life, I could barely drag myself out of bed, my grades plummeted, and I thought my family believed I was a failure. They didn’t, but nothing would get through my depression. At this time I didn’t know anything was wrong with me. I just thought that this was part of life. It isn’t.

Reader, if you identify with anything I have said please tell someone, I didn’t and I almost died for it.

One Friday in the April of 2013, I decided to end my life. It wasn’t the first time I had this thought, it had been a daily thought since September 2012. I was finally ready. I went home to Birmingham that weekend, my parents and little sister had left the house that night. I was alone.

I got my handgun, which was my 18th birthday present a few months earlier, I loaded it, and placed it against my head. I put my favorite song on full volume. I gave myself the run time of the song to pull the trigger. In hindsight it seems dramatic, but it seemed appropriate at the time. If you’re interested the song is “Explorers” by Muse. Well the song finished, and I couldn’t pull the trigger. The next day I started my road to recovery.

When I told my parents what I had tried seriously to do, they quickly got me psychological help. I was put on medication to control depression. It worked slightly, but was not fully effective as I am Bipolar and not depressed, but I wouldn’t know that for a year or so. Yet, I was slowly getting better.

In the fall of 2013, I rushed Alpha Phi Omega-National Service Fraternity and gained some of my closest friends. In October of 2014, I published my first book, “Hell Has No Stars” which is about my struggle with depression.

I wanted to use my story to help others, and thankfully I found an outlet for that.

My psychologist knew of my desire to help people and set me up to give a speech on my story to Active Minds at Auburn University. Active Minds is a college group dedicated to spreading mental health awareness and ending the stigma around mental health. I was drawn to the group and became a member.

Now, almost two years to the day that I tried to kill myself, I am so glad I did not. They changed my diagnoses to Bipolar Disorder after I had a documented manic episode earlier this year, but I did not let that deter me. Now I am Vice President of my chapter of Alpha Phi Omega. Active Minds just elected me to be the Vice President of the chapter for next year. I will graduate college on time with a degree in History. I have friends. Life has improved so much since my darker days.

I can say now that I love life. I am not alone. I may still be playing life on hard mode, but the game has gotten a little easier.

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.