This meme reminds me of my clumsy self when I do think the "floor is lonely and needs a hug." This phrase is also known as "tripping and falling." It's something I can relate to and is super hilarious. Stitch and I also have the same look on our faces after falling and looking around to see if anyone happened to witness our clumsiness. I suppose it is also a meme that everyone has been able to relate to at least once or will relate to at least once.

Have you ever seen those movies or television shows where a character is outside in the cold looking into a window that is full of people laughing and talking by a warm fireplace? Have you ever seen the look on the character's face? I have that same look on my face at every single family gathering. In fact, even though there are twenty-plus people in the room surrounding me, I have never felt more alone. My sister and I were adopted by our grandmother who passed away in 2013 (I was almost ten, she was eight) and we entered a life with a side of our family we had never met or heard of before. We didn't have the chance to build those relationships and I see the wary looks on the faces of my family members when they look at us. They have the same over-cheery smile on their faces even after seven years. I am not close to any of them. In fact, I am closer to my friends than any of my family members - my sister included. I feel like a misfit inside my family. I don't know whether to talk with the adults or play with the kids downstairs, so I end up going to my room and reading for the duration of the party. However, being a misfit does have some advantages. Instead of being put into a group where you have to share everyone's beliefs or dreams in order to 'fit in,' being a misfit has given me time to cultivate my own beliefs and pick and choose what I want to believe. And by doing so, I have learned so much about myself and what I want to do with my life. My dream: own my own event planning business and just be happy with my life. I want to grow up and surround myself with happiness, and by being a misfit, I have learned who I shouldn't surround myself with and who will not help me achieve my dreams. And while I continue to work towards my dreams, I want to create a scholarship for students like me: who don't have volunteer or community service or a lot of clubs and organizations - not because they didn't want to, but because they couldn't - students who have faced hardship and come out on top. I want to help others feel worthy of themselves and not afraid to stand out. I feel like a misfit in my own family and I feel unworthy and not special, but if I can prevent anyone from feeling that way, I will gladly help.

How can one thing have so many different emotions attached to it? How can it go from a bother to a savior? From a savior to a motivator? I can tell you how because, in my life, education played the role of a bother, savior, and motivator. A bother? Yes, for me, education was a bother. I hated that I had to get up early. I started counting down the days until summer break on the first day of school. I wanted to be outdoors and have free reign of my time. Of course, with this view, my grades were horrible. But I didn't care because school did not seem worth my time and I couldn't care less about actually sitting down and doing work. I didn't know that one day very soon I would look to school for comfort. A savior? Yes, for me, education was a savior. When my adoptive mother died, I needed to do something to stop thinking, so I threw myself into schoolwork. It stopped me from being alone with my thoughts and it kept me busy. I went from counting down the days to summer break with excitement to counting them down with dread. I hated summer break because I was alone with my thoughts for so long and my anxiety would increase throughout the summer and once the end of summer came, my anxiety had hit its peak. I love the beginning of the school year because, as I throw myself deeper into my work, my anxiety fades away. I threw myself into school; fixed those horrible grades and moved onto the next role education played in my life. A motivator? Yes, for me, education is a motivator. My goal in life is to get a college degree so I can thank my legal guardian for everything she has ever done for me. They say actions speak louder than words, and a college diploma in my hand will say more than any "thank you" can ever say. I want to get a degree to thank her, but I also want to get one to prove to myself that I won. After everything that has happened to me in my life, I was able to fight through and succeed. To me, a diploma will never be just a piece of paper. A diploma will be proof of my success, my proof that "I did it." I fought through the bad and came out on top. I fought through everything that held me back and didn't stop once. So, yes, education has been a bother, a savior, and a motivator for me. And if you told me when I was younger that I would do everything in my power to continue my education, I would have laughed and said, "why bother?" then run off to play outside. Never realizing that the day would come when it would become my savior. Never realizing that it would become a motivation. Never realizing it would become my everything.

"Oxford Languages" defines the term "achievement" as "a thing done successfully, typically by effort, courage, or skill." Notice how achievement is the "thing" that is attained by "effort, courage, or skill"? The achievement is the result, but the journey is the most important. After all, you can't get anywhere if you remain stagnant. We often overlook the journey that leads to achievement. Multiple people work hard to achieve their goals, but sometimes they fall short because of a barrier that even they cannot overcome. These people are rarely recognized. Therefore, instead of the word "achievement," I would like to use the word "victory." The small victories are what lead us to our achievement and sometimes they are even more important than the achievement itself. Seven years ago, I was pushed onto a path that I didn't want anything to do with. I didn't want to do good in school. I didn't want to achieve anything. I fought back with everything I had so I wouldn't go forward onto that path. However, after a year of fighting, my resolve was weakening. I was so tired of fighting back. That slight waver in strength was all it took for me to start down the path of success. However, that slight waver of strength was not my first victory. It is no secret that college is hard to pay for and my legal guardian told me upfront that she wasn't going to be able to pay for any of my college expenses. In sixth grade, when I was figuring out my plan for what I wanted to do with my life, the price of college seemed trivial. I figured it would all work itself out and I wouldn't have to worry about it. But as the years went on and I continued to do well in school, the sense of foreboding slowly crept in. My academic achievement wasn't going to be enough to pay for all of my college expenses. As the realization sank in, I started to despair. After all of my hard work, I wasn't even going to be able to achieve the goal I set out to achieve at the age of eleven. This would be a wonderful place to say "the end." It would have been so easy to give up and start working toward something else that seemed possible. I'll admit after the realization hit me, I started looking at other options. But this is where my victory comes in. Instead of shying away from the barrier in my path, I faced it head-on. I started looking at other options to pay for college. My victory was that I didn't let the currency deter me. I realized that I had other options and I made the decision that I was going to use them to the best of my ability. Nothing was going to stand in my way. Since my first victory, I have experienced so many more. I haven't yet received a scholarship from a scholarship site, but I haven't let it deter me. I'll keep trying until I succeed and even after. My victory taught me that I am capable of much more than I thought. It taught me that I am hard-working and determined. In the past, I quit when situations got tough. I had horrible grades as a result. Now, I don't stop. I work until I have achieved my very best. I have learned so much about myself over the past seven years and each victory has taught me something about myself. This particular victory taught me that I am determined and I am stubborn. I won't stop until I reach the finish line. What is that finish line? The finish line is a college diploma. In the future, I hope I can look back and say "I did it." After all the struggles and challenges, I finally did what I set out to do. The journey to the college diploma is over, but the diploma opens up so many more opportunities for me. I can finally open my own business and become a Meeting and Event Planner. I won't have to dream about something that always seems to be just out of my reach. Hopefully, with my college diploma, I can support my future children with their education. And if I never have children, maybe I can give money to organizations that can help students who are in the same position I am currently in. In the future, I hope to achieve my dream, and by doing so, I hope to help others achieve their dreams. It seems impossible. But if there is anything my victories have taught me, it's that anything is possible.

Death isn't easy. One death sends a ripple through the world. My adoptive mother's death sent a ripple through me. A ripple that ripped me apart. It was more of a torrent that rushed at me and caught me up in its current. It continued to send a flood of emotions through me until it threatened to overflow. Seven years ago, I lost my adoptive mother to stage 4 cancer. A few days before her death, she experienced a seizure. During a severe thunderstorm, she was rushed to the hospital. The day my sister and I were told of her death contrasted severely with the night of her seizure. A night of panic and thunder was the complete opposite of a day filled with blue sky and the calm lapping of the waves underneath the dock. Unfortunately, for years after her death, my life resembled the night of her seizure: a torrent of thunder, lightning, hail, rain, and tornadoes. I was lost in my angry and fearful emotions. I refused to open myself up to my aunt, who became my legal guardian after my mother's death. I did everything I could to push her away from me, afraid that once I opened myself up to her, she too would be taken away from me. I was afraid that I would hurt her. I didn't realize that by pushing her away, I was hurting her. Throwing my mattress at her in a fit of anger didn't help, but I was consumed with pain, anger, guilt, and sadness. I couldn't get out of the dark tunnel I was in. It might surprise you, but I did get out of the tunnel, but it took a long time, and I still struggle. Slowly, as I realized my aunt was there to help me and that I shouldn't continue to push her away, the storm started to calm. It took me a long time to realize that I was hurting myself more by pushing the people I loved away. I was hurting the people I loved as well. Yes, I'm still terrified of losing the people I love, but I realized that I was wasting the time I was given with them by fearing their loss. Now, I've learned to pull the people close to me and to love them. The stubborn and determined love my aunt had for me forced me to remove the clouds from my eyes. If it weren't for my aunt, I wouldn't have gotten out of that dark tunnel. She became my little spark of hope that lit the way for me. Now, everything I do is for her. My goal in life is to graduate from college. They say that actions speak louder than words. A diploma sitting in my hand will say so much more than a thousand "thank you's" ever could. My aunt inspired me to overcome the storm inside me. She taught me determination and she taught me to love. Without her, I would not be on my way to college as a first-generation college student. I wouldn't be on my way anywhere, except deeper into that tunnel. In order to overcome the despair that consumed me after my mother's death, I had to accept the support of those who loved me; I had to accept that I would lose them one day, but I also had to accept that I couldn't live in fear of that future; I needed to live in the present and surround myself and accept the love and support that they gave me. I learned that love and determination are powers that can change and shape the whole world. And with these new powers, I intend to do just that.

When I walked into the halls of my middle school at the start of eighth grade, I also entered the Depression stage of the 7 Stages of Grief. Of course, by eighth grade, my peers had experienced three years of my ADHD behavior: I was annoying, obnoxious, and loud. They were getting sick of me and they made it known. Throughout eighth grade, I was described as, "annoying," "ugly," and I was told that "nobody likes me." These unkind terms piled up on top of my already depressed state and they hit their mark every single time. I cried frequently and I started losing interest in attending school-an activity I have always enjoyed. It was a dark time, but it was also an experience that undeniably changed who I am. Fortunately, I found a bright spot in my darkness. In fact, she is still my bright spot, and I am hers. My best friend provided me with an outlet that I could talk to about my emotions and I was able to do the same for her. With her help, I was able to rise up out of the depressed state. Just having someone to listen can do wonders for our mental health. Now, I really pay attention to what is going on with others around me. I know that if I am worried about someone and they are not at school, I can ask a teacher to check on them. I know that being direct is the best way to address someone's thoughts about suicide. I know that being there for them can make them feel less alone. I also know that there are people I can go to get help when the situation is out of my control. My own experience with depression has helped me come to understand the signs and give me an idea of how I can help. No mental health experience is the same, but we are stronger together. Hope is an emotion that I can never seem to crush. No matter how much I wanted the darkness to smother me, that little light of hope refused to let me enter complete darkness. Now, I believe that there is a silver lining in everything. When my friends or family members go through hard times, I sit down with them and I tell them we are going to do an activity called Roses and Thorns-except we are not going to do Thorns. Then, we sit there and we pick out every good thing that happened to us this past week. it's amazing to watch them go from reluctant to eager. What started as an activity they didn't want to do became something that they enjoyed and the look on their faces when they found a new Rose, even if it was something as simple as "we had pizza," is amazing because you know you helped in some way. I refuse to let myself sit in the dark, and I refuse to let others do the same, especially when I know that I could help. I don't sit on the sidelines. While I do not plan on going into a profession that helps/supports individuals and families with mental health, I don't plan on withholding any and all help I can give. There are more clouds out there that are missing their sunshine; more night skies that are missing their stars. Whether it's donating to charities that help individuals with mental health or helping a friend, family member, or colleague, I'm going to make sure some of those clouds find their sunshine, and some of those night skies find their stars.

*Trigger Warning: Sexual Assault and Depression Every year since I was ten years old, I've had to answer the question, "Why do you live with your aunt?" I would sigh and give them the short summary: At the age of two, I was taken away from my biological parents by the government. I went into Family Care for a year, and then my grandmother adopted me. Unfortunately, she passed away the month before I turned ten from Stage 4 Cancer. My great aunt became my guardian. The long story is this: My parents were alcoholics and drug users who let a boy babysit me when I was two. While he was babysitting me, he sexually assaulted me. I told my grandmother when she came to pick me up. Soon, I was put into Family Care and a year after that, my grandmother adopted me. For eight years, I ran wild and free. I got to do whatever I wanted and I was spoiled horribly. As a child with ADHD, that was the absolute worse way to raise me. I needed structure. But during those eight years, I didn't have any structure whatsoever. At the age of nine, I was told that my adoptive mother had Stage 4 Cancer. After that, I started to grow up a little bit. I remember one time she fell on the tiled kitchen floor and I helped her up and walked her back to the couch. I was the only one there. My sister was on a bike ride. She struggled with Cancer until she had a seizure on one stormy night. She was rushed to the hospital and a couple days later, on June 30th, 2013, she died. The last time I remember seeing her alive was during her seizure. I found out later that I saw her at the hospital, but I had no recollection. After she passed, my great aunt Mary became my guardian. Throughout those first years, I was consumed with anger and grief. I would scream and yell at Mary and at one point I threw my mattress at her. As the years went on, the anger faded into a depression. In eighth grade, the depression hit its peak. I was so hyper because of my ADHD and I was obnoxious and annoying. As you can imagine, people became annoyed with me and they said awful things about me that really hurt me. My negative thoughts were a constant companion. But as I transitioned from middle school into high school, I kept asking myself, "What if the future is better?" This outlook kept me here. This outlook wouldn't let me give up. Even when no one else noticed my depressed state, my positive outlook wouldn't let me quit. So, I decided that my goal in high school was to overcome my insecurity. Gradually, I was able to shrug off the nasty comments and be happy with who I was. And losing that insecurity opened up so many more options to me. Now, I'm able to go up to a new student and help them. Now, I'm able to help others with their hardships. I've been through so much, but my positive outlook never disappeared. I overcame my hardships because I wasn't willing to give up. My desire to know the answer to my "what if" kept me focused. Now, my goals in life are to thank those who helped me along the way. I especially want to thank my aunt for everything she did for me. For fighting tooth and nail to get me this far. I've been through a lot, but it has helped me center my focus on what is important and now I know how to get it. I know what the worst can be, so now my goal is to focus on the positive. I have known pain and unhappiness, but they will not stop me from being happy. They are my past and I can't wait to find my future.

Do you remember all those moments you took for granted? Do you remember all those stories your parents, grandparents, or aunts and uncles were telling you that you didn't really pay attention to because you thought they would be there later when you actually wanted to know those stories? Because I certainly don't. I didn't realize until much later that I should have paid attention. I didn't realize that my older family members might not be there when I decided I wanted to hear the stories. I didn't realize how important it is to tell others that you love them. I didn't realize any of this, because I didn't realize that I wasn't guaranteed a tomorrow. When I was thirteen years old, I was hit with the sudden realization that I am going to die one day. Of course, I had known before that I was going to die, but I always had a "someday" outlook. But that day, I realized that I wasn't guaranteed a tomorrow. At first, I was hit with a sudden panic and my anxiety escalated. I didn't know how to deal with this horrible knowledge and I wished that I could go back to the time when I didn't have it. But then I took a deep breath and looked around. I looked at my aunt sitting on the couch and my sister sitting on the floor. They were laughing at something on the TV show that I had forgotten about. When I looked at them, I realized that this was the most important thing in life: being with those you love the most and enjoying your time with them. After that night, I started giving my aunt a hug and a kiss on the cheek before bed. I would tell her, "I love you, I like you, good night." Then I would tell her I'd see her in the morning, and I wished her sweet dreams. I frequently tell my younger cousins that I love them and I hug them often. I tell my sister goodnight every night and I tell her that I love her. If I never get a tomorrow, then I want them to know that I love them. Now, I hold on to every single moment I can get a hold of. I listen to the stories. I'm present in the moment. And at night, when the anxiety grips me, I simply pray. I pray for the health of my family and I pray for other things that give me anxiety. Then I thank God for letting us live another day. And in the morning, I am able to start a new day without anxieties. Yes, realizing that you are going to die is terrifying. But what you do with that knowledge is the key. Instead of hiding from the knowledge, I embraced it. I started to live in the moment and I let my love be known. Not one day goes by where I don't tell someone I love them.

She saved me. I was headed down a dark and twisted road at the age of ten, but she was a lightning strike that stopped me in my tracks and illuminated the right path. Of course, I was blinded at first and I refused to go down the right path, but she wasn't going to accept my refusal. So, the storm thundered and raged for seven years. We were caught in a tornado that wrecked havoc in the form of grief and anger. But as the seven years came to an end, the storm gradually began to weaken: the torrential rain softened, the howling wind began to whisper, and the thunder and lightning faded away. The clouds are not 100% gone, but the sunshine is peaking through them now and the roar of the storm has softened to a murmur. At the age of two, the government took me away from my biological parents and I went into Family Care for a year. Then, my grandmother adopted my sister and I. Unfortunately, the month before I turned ten, my adoptive mother passed away from Stage 4 Cancer. My sister and I were placed in the care of my great aunt. She became our guardian. She started out as my storm, but she has since became my sunshine. I am who I am today because of my aunt. She fought for me even when I fought her. I threw my mattress at her during one of my fits of rage and grief. When I look back now, all I can think about is how she didn't give up on me. If someone had thrown a mattress at me and spat such hateful words at me, I would have walked away. However, my aunt did not. She fought for me. As she continued to fight, my grades went from F's to Straight A's. As she fought, I went into Honors and Advanced Placement classes. As she fought, I got accepted into College. As she fought, I realized that I needed to fight as well. I realized she wouldn't always be there to motivate me. Now, my main goal is to graduate from college. They say that actions speak louder than words. I can say "thank you" a million times, but graduating will prove that I really appreciate everything she had done for me. I can't wait until the day I graduate from college so I can look back and say, you are the reason I have this diploma in my hand. She is the reason I have made it this far. She is the only reason the storm died down. On a cloudy day, she is the sun that is so stubborn it will do anything and everything to poke through those dark clouds. She never gave up on me, so I can't give up on her. My aunt is my role model because she took two children with ADHD who came from a home with no rules, no structure, and they were spoiled. They were awful children, but she took them anyway. Then she fought tooth and nail to make them better in every way. My aunt is my role model because she is my motivation, my encouragement, and the reason I strive toward success. She is my sunshine. Without her, I would still be on that dark and twisted path and who knows where I would be today if I didn't have her? I know one thing for sure: I hope I never find out.