When my parents divorced, it felt like the foundation of my life crumbled beneath me. I was homeschooled through 8th grade, but in reality, very little actual teaching took place. My mom, overwhelmed with raising nine kids and dealing with the mounting tensions in her marriage, didn't have the resources or energy to provide a structured education. Despite the challenges, our home in Shoals, Indiana, was familiar. It was all I had ever known. But when my mom announced the divorce, everything changed. We packed up our lives and moved to Springville, Indiana, leaving behind the only sense of stability we had. The worst part was the realization that I would be starting public school. The thought of walking into a classroom filled with strangers, all of whom had years of structured education, felt like stepping into a battlefield unarmed. My lack of formal education left me behind academically, and I quickly realized how far I had to go to catch up. Basic concepts that my peers had mastered were foreign to me. Classroom discussions were intimidating, and I often found myself nodding along, pretending to understand when I was utterly lost. Socially, the transition was just as overwhelming. Coming from a sheltered homeschool environment, I had limited experience interacting with people my age. I wasn't familiar with the rhythms of the school day, the social dynamics, or even how to navigate friendships. Everyone seemed to speak a different language I didn't fully understand, both academically and socially. Lunchtime, which for others was a chance to relax and connect, became a daily reminder of how isolated I felt. I would often sit alone, afraid to initiate conversations and unsure how to relate to others. While the challenges of school weighed heavily on me, the emotional toll of my parents' divorce was just as profound. My dad's absence left a void. He was no longer a constant presence in my life, and that loss was difficult to process. At the same time, I watched my mom struggle. She had spent years in a difficult marriage, and now she was raising nine kids while also pursuing a degree in nursing in her mid-40s. Her resilience was remarkable, but it was clear that the stress took its toll. The financial strain became a constant reality, and I often worried about how we would get by. Despite all of this, the experience also shaped me in ways that I never expected. I learned resistance. Every day, I walked into school feeling inadequate, but I kept going. Little by little, I began to ask questions, stay after class for help, and put in extra hours studying. My teachers noticed my determination, and their support made a world of a difference. I'll never forget the moments when a concept finally clicked, moments that reminded me I was capable of growth. Socially, I took small steps. I started talking to people in class, joining group projects, and participating in school activities. It wasn't easy, but each conversation and interaction helped me gain confidence. Over time, I built friendships and found people who accepted me for who I was. I learned that vulnerability wasn't a weakness but a strength. Opening up about my experiences allowed me to connect with others in a genuine way. Now, when I reflect on that period of my life, I no longer see it as a time of failure or loss. I see it as a time of transformation. The adversity I faced, forced me to grow in ways I never imagined. I may have started my public school journey feeling like I was playing a game with no tools, but through persistence and support, I built my own. Im no longer defined by what I lack, Im defined by what I overcame. And that's a foundation I'm proud to stand on.