Overcoming life obstacles can be challenging to those who can't see the other side of the mountain. It is more challenging for the individuals who can't picture themselves being around long enough to see the beautiful grassy fields on the other side. It took time for me to fully understand why I had to climb my mountain while my peers went through a tunnel. Freshman year I relapsed on pills and ecstasy landing me into the pediatric ICU for three days. From there, I was immediately admitted to the psychiatric hospital for the third time in less than one year. I had been released and put into numerous programs to try to help me stay sober. I expected nothing different from this visit and expected to be out in a week, but I was wrong. I was told I wasn't going home anytime soon. Residential hospitalization was my only option, and California was where I was going. I was discharged from the hospital and spent the night at my home before flying out the next morning to the residential facility with my parents. It was strange because I wanted to be excited to go on a plane for the first time but it was hard to think positively when I knew I was going to be isolated from friends, family, and life at home. I just couldn't stop thinking about how all my friends were going to move on with their lives and forget about me. I kept thinking: Why is this happening to me? Why am I so messed up in the head? Why can't I just be normal? I have a hard time remembering any emotions I was feeling, but I remember being so mad. I was so mad that all my friends back home got to live normal teenage lives and I had to disappear for 2 months to be normal like they were. It wasn't fair. Right off the plane my parents drove me to the residential facility. While saying goodbye to my parents I could see how much my addiction had hurt them; I could see the pain behind their eyes and I knew this was my last chance to change, to get better, and to no longer be a burden to my family. Saturday mornings one of the group leaders took us hiking. My first hike the group leader, Chad, ran beside me all the way to the top of the mountain. When we reached the top he told me that I was not an average kid and the program I was in was going to be a lot of work. I would have to climb all the way until I reached success. I couldn’t stop halfway and have a relapse. He repeated, “climb, conquer, and move on.” Those words stuck with me. I completed my program in California. My climb was not over though. I spent the next five months in an intensive outpatient program. I balanced my sobriety while attending my sophomore year of high school, reconnecting with friends, and playing sports. I watched how easily my friends lived each day while I battled to get out of bed. Chad’s words stuck with me: “climb, conquer, move on.” I have been drug-free for over three years now. Some days I see the top of the mountain in sight, and I keep on climbing. Other days, I rest. I may have stumbled and lost some ground, but I have never gone back to the bottom. I am just finishing up my first year at Utah Tech University, and I never thought I would be saying that. I feel a sense of healing going to school in Utah because I can connect my personal experiences heavily with the mountains and nature. I hope to graduate from college in 2028 with my bachelor's degree in psychology and then further my education by getting an associate's degree in social work. My dream job would include helping teens who are struggling with addiction find other reasons for living that don't involve abusing substances. My struggle almost cost me my life, and I know just how strong I am and what I need to do in order to overcome any boulder, hill, mountain, or storm life throws my way. Climb. Conquer. Move on.