February 20, 2017

When I felt trapped in a class that seemed hostile towards me in college, I dropped out. I actually have a rich history of dropping out and nearly dropping out and speeding back when it was almost too late, when I had missed so many classes, when I had almost reached a desperation deeper than my capacity to return. But I was so certain that I needed to complete college, and it is my proudest accomplishment. I have experienced so many rock bottoms, so many desperate moments, that I have a rich soil in which I can learn from, from which my esteem can fertilize and grow. Perseverance is a definite theme. In fact, I would definitely write that at every mile marker in the woods as I map my way along.

“If at first I don't succeed I keep trying.”

I remember the feeling of the rock on the bottom. There is some comfort or easiness even there, where ever you find yourself, whether homeless on a street corner or curled in the fetal position in your mother's house, as I did. It can be easy to say, I am not going back to school, to swim in the well of unwillingness to address whatever is the problem. What I am getting at is, sometimes everything flows in a quick succession after you take the first positive step after rock bottom, but moving from that low point to that first step takes a lot of vital time.

If I had taken too long coming back to school, if I had stayed in my Mom's house in the fetal position for a month and not a week, it would have been nearly impossible to return to class. Facing the demon of the cold seeming class, facing the administrator to ask if he would let me back in, facing my mother to apologize and thank her for the tea, would have been extra hard if I had taken longer.