Letting go was never a virtue I held. Even with my tenacious spirit, with every spring from a drawback I insisted on carrying that drawback within me. I held the belief carrying failure reminds one of ones journey. “Never forget where you come from” a common phrase. However, as I continue to make my way through life, conflict begins to rise. Forgetting and letting go are not one of the same. The realization carries relief along with the word “why”, not necessarily a question but more a lifestyle. The process began slowly practically unbeknownst to me. Slight changes in my decision making began. The adrenaline high after a panic attack dissipated, and I no longer welcomed the aches in my chest, or my blood shot eyes from crying. I found beauty in my natural state and slowly stopped adding to my appearance. I no longer practiced my masochistic ways of participating in self-harm, and instead I welcomed the overwhelming emotions and worked to find solace in them. My methods were not completely healthy, but guilt and shame no longer held my mind and my body captive. Integrating my way back into my academics, I was hit with a roadblock. Doubt and insecurity wrapped their way around my body replacing my former captor's guilt and shame. How could I ever be the girl I once was who balanced school, friends, a relationship, and my destructive home life if I could not participate in the destructive behaviors that set me free from the stress and anxiety life fed me? Feelings of guilt and shame visited occasionally making great friends with doubt and insecurity, another part of my journey began. A sudden realization dawned on me. While I understood letting go and forgetting were not one in the same, I had never put it into practice. I had released myself from my destructive behavior but never made peace with all the trauma I had previously and have continued to endure. While I may have questioned every decision I made in hopes of never feeling trapped within my own beliefs again, the “why” lifestyle began to take its toll. I was in a constant loop of reflection with no end goal. A reunion came into town with familiar faces: guilt, shame, insecurity, and doubt. But this time, they brought a family friend, grief. With each step I took towards personal peace, a part of me longed for the highs of being low. A decision had to be made, I could either back track into my old self or grieve the girl to whom I became so attached, so that a new me had a chance to bloom. The next phase of my life is the present. I am a vulnerable but formidable person. For all my revelations and daunting lows, I not only survived but gained so much wisdom from the experiences. I will continue to learn and to care for myself no matter who decides to visit me. The future is unforeseeable, but no matter where I end in life, every version of me will be in the hands of someone who will try to be sensitive, to be considerate, to be persistent and to be patient even when it seems impossible. A desire for self-love is rooted in self-love as humans we are already everything we want to be. If we dig deep and give ourselves grace when we falter, our capabilities are endless.

My mother is not a homeowner, nor does she have a college degree of any kind. Those things were not her job to accomplish. Her job was to learn, to educate herself on American norms and standards while keeping both cultures close to her heart. My mother's job was to practice duality. Duality which served in helping my grandfather grow roots and in lifting my sister and I up. My Father came to America at ten years old from Dominican Republic, his job was supposed to be adaptation, but he surpassed adaptation. My father is your stereotypical blue-collar immigrant, but he is also self-educated in business and social politics. Both my parents have paved the way for my future so I can properly do my job and achieve the American dream. As I remain undecided between a Social Work and a Political Science major, with the intention of law school, both careers will allow me to be the change I want to see in communities similar to my own. I have to boost myself into spaces my parents never thought they would see. I will be able to relieve my parents of the financial burden that comes with life. No matter what I choose to pursue I will work hard to work a job I love and take care of my family. I will be the change so many first gen need to see. Prove, it is possible to feed into your community, love your career, and take on the responsibilities that come with being first generation. Many of the schools I aspire to go to, cost more than I can fathom. Their programs, locations, and opportunities are endless and beautiful. However, their cost and little to no aid is discouraging. I have been accepted into every school I have applied to, proving my ambition and intelligence. Said ambition should not be burned down because of the hole in my pocket. Regardless of my income I will find a way to pursue my higher education, even if it means taking a longer or more physically demanding path. My parents and grandparents took far more treacherous paths for me to gain my higher education. I owe it to them and all other first generation college students to will my way. Once I do so I will give back in any way I can. I will become a lawyer or a political journalist, and I will advocate for everyone after me. That is what being empowered means to me.

My mother is not a homeowner, nor does she have a college degree of any kind. Those things were not her job to accomplish. Her job was to learn, to educate herself on American norms and standards while keeping both cultures close to her heart. My mother's job was to practice duality. Duality which served in helping my grandfather grow roots and in lifting my sister and I up. My Father came to America at ten years old from Dominican Republic, his job was supposed to be adaptation, but he surpassed adaptation. My father is your stereotypical blue-collar immigrant, but he is also self-educated in business and social politics. Both my parents have paved the way for my future so I can properly do my job and achieve the American dream. As I remain undecided between a Social Work and a Political Science major, with the intention of law school, both careers will allow me to be the change I want to see in communities similar to my own. I have to boost myself into spaces my parents never thought they would see. I will be able to relieve my parents of the financial burden that comes with life. No matter what I choose to pursue I will work hard to work a job I love and take care of my family. I will be the change so many first gen need to see. Prove, it is possible to feed into your community, love your career, and take on the responsibilities that come with being first generation. Many of the schools I aspire to go to, cost more than I can fathom. Their programs, locations, and opportunities are endless and beautiful. However, their cost and little to no aid is discouraging. I have been accepted into every school I have applied to, proving my ambition and intelligence. Said ambition should not be burned down because of the hole in my pocket. Regardless of my income I will find a way to pursue my higher education, even if it means taking a longer or more physically demanding path. My parents and grandparents took far more treacherous paths for me to gain my higher education. I owe it to them and all other first generation college students to will my way. Once I do so I will give back in any way I can. I will become a lawyer or a political journalist, and I will advocate for everyone after me.

My mother is not a homeowner, nor does she have a college degree of any kind. Those things were not her job to accomplish. Her job was to learn, to educate herself on American norms and standards while keeping both cultures close to her heart. My mother's job was to practice duality. Duality which served in helping my grandfather grow roots and in lifting my sister and I up. My Father came to America at ten years old from Dominican Republic, his job was supposed to be adaptation, but he surpassed adaptation. My father is your stereotypical blue-collar immigrant, but he is also self-educated in business and social politics. Both my parents have paved the way for my future so I can properly do my job and achieve the American dream. As I remain undecided between a Social Work and a Political Science major, with the intention of law school, both careers will allow me to be the change I want to see in communities similar to my own. I have to boost myself into spaces my parents never thought they would see. I will be able to relieve my parents of the financial burden that comes with life. No matter what I choose to pursue I will work hard to work a job I love and take care of my family. I will be the change so many first gen need to see. Prove, it is possible to feed into your community, love your career, and take on the responsibilities that come with being first generation.

Letting go was never a virtue I held. Even with my tenacious spirit, with every spring from a drawback I insisted on carrying that drawback within me. I held the belief carrying failure reminds one of ones journey. “Never forget where you come from” a common phrase. However, as I continue to make my way through life, conflict begins to rise. Forgetting and letting go are not one of the same. The realization carries relief along with the word “why”, not necessarily a question but more a lifestyle. The process began slowly practically unbeknownst to me. Slight changes in my decision making began. The adrenaline high after a panic attack dissipated, and I no longer welcomed the aches in my chest, or my blood shot eyes from crying. I found beauty in my natural state and slowly stopped adding to my appearance. I no longer practiced my masochistic ways of participating in self-harm, and instead I welcomed the overwhelming emotions and worked to find solace in them. My methods were not completely healthy, but guilt and shame no longer held my mind and my body captive. Integrating my way back into my academics, I was hit with a roadblock. Doubt and insecurity wrapped their way around my body replacing my former captor's guilt and shame. How could I ever be the girl I once was who balanced school, friends, a relationship, and my destructive home life if I could not participate in the destructive behaviors that set me free from the stress and anxiety life fed me? Feelings of guilt and shame visited occasionally making great friends with doubt and insecurity, another part of my journey began. A sudden realization dawned on me. While I understood letting go and forgetting were not one in the same, I had never put it into practice. I had released myself from my destructive behavior but never made peace with all the trauma I had previously and have continued to endure. While I may have questioned every decision I made in hopes of never feeling trapped within my own beliefs again, the “why” lifestyle began to take its toll. I was in a constant loop of reflection with no end goal. A reunion came into town with familiar faces: guilt, shame, insecurity, and doubt. But this time, they brought a family friend, grief. With each step I took towards personal peace, a part of me longed for the highs of being low. A decision had to be made, I could either back track into my old self or grieve the girl to whom I became so attached, so that a new me had a chance to bloom. The next phase of my life is the present. I am a vulnerable but formidable person. For all my revelations and daunting lows, I not only survived but gained so much wisdom from the experiences. I will continue to learn and to care for myself no matter who decides to visit me. The future is unforeseeable, but no matter where I end in life, every version of me will be in the hands of someone who will try to be sensitive, to be considerate, to be persistent and to be patient even when it seems impossible. A desire for self-love is rooted in self-love as humans we are already everything we want to be. If we dig deep and give ourselves grace when we falter, our capabilities are endless.

Letting go was never a virtue I held. Even with my tenacious spirit, with every spring from a drawback I insisted on carrying that drawback within me. I held the belief carrying failure reminds one of ones journey. “Never forget where you come from” a common phrase. However, as I continue to make my way through life, conflict begins to rise. Forgetting and letting go are not one of the same. The realization carries relief along with the word “why”, not necessarily a question but more a lifestyle. The process began slowly practically unbeknownst to me. Slight changes in my decision making began. The adrenaline high after a panic attack dissipated, and I no longer welcomed the aches in my chest, or my blood shot eyes from crying. I found beauty in my natural state and slowly stopped adding to my appearance. I no longer practiced my masochistic ways of participating in self-harm, and instead I welcomed the overwhelming emotions and worked to find solace in them. My methods were not completely healthy, but guilt and shame no longer held my mind and my body captive. Integrating my way back into my academics, I was hit with a roadblock. Doubt and insecurity wrapped their way around my body replacing my former captor's guilt and shame. How could I ever be the girl I once was who balanced school, friends, a relationship, and my destructive home life if I could not participate in the destructive behaviors that set me free from the stress and anxiety life fed me? Feelings of guilt and shame visited occasionally making great friends with doubt and insecurity, another part of my journey began. A sudden realization dawned on me. While I understood letting go and forgetting were not one in the same, I had never put it into practice. I had released myself from my destructive behavior but never made peace with all the trauma I had previously and have continued to endure. While I may have questioned every decision I made in hopes of never feeling trapped within my own beliefs again, the “why” lifestyle began to take its toll. I was in a constant loop of reflection with no end goal. A reunion came into town with familiar faces: guilt, shame, insecurity, and doubt. But this time, they brought a family friend, grief. With each step I took towards personal peace, a part of me longed for the highs of being low. A decision had to be made, I could either back track into my old self or grieve the girl to whom I became so attached, so that a new me had a chance to bloom. The next phase of my life is the present. I am a vulnerable but formidable person. For all my revelations and daunting lows, I not only survived but gained so much wisdom from the experiences. I will continue to learn and to care for myself no matter who decides to visit me. The future is unforeseeable, but no matter where I end in life, every version of me will be in the hands of someone who will try to be sensitive, to be considerate, to be persistent and to be patient even when it seems impossible. A desire for self-love is rooted in self-love as humans we are already everything we want to be. If we dig deep and give ourselves grace when we falter, our capabilities are endless.