Being a first-generation student had been a dream of mine since my early middle school years. The journey was arduous due to the lack of support that I received from both of my parents.

I was raised by immigrants who don't speak a bit of English and hold no prior college experience. I knew deep in my heart that the lack of support was not in part from them not wanting to help, but not knowing how to help. The toughest slice was having to find college information on my own.

It was a roller coaster. I questioned my ability to succeed in an English-speaking environment. Sure, I comprehend English, but everyone around me appeared to be much more advanced, and truth be told I felt foolish. No one warned me how difficult the route to being a first-generation student would be.

I wanted my parents to be a part of this big episode for me. I wanted them to help me narrow down my options, I wanted mom to say, “don't worry ill fill out your FAFSA, honey.” Most importantly, I wanted my parents to remind me how important it is to attend college, but that was not the case.

Alternatively, I carried my own stress along with my parents', “Como vas a pagar?” (How are you going to pay?), was all they could ask. Sadly, that was the only things that they knew about college— that it was not free. I stayed up several nights to apply for different scholarships. As time arose and I received no word back from any scholarhips, my hopes rolled out the window and I felt depressed.

I felt remorse in deserting my family five hours behind, and this ushered me to believe that working full-time instead of studying wasn't a terrible idea. I was the person my parents relied on for answers, and I was their translator for every situation, how will I sleep well at night knowing they’re out without me?

I was in a dark spot my first semester of college, trying to find myself and trying to adjust to a new life. I could see the support that other students received and felt abandoned. This was the first time I had ever been away from home, and I could not find myself.

“What have I done?" "Is this the right decision?” So much confusion raced through my head, and I was lost. When I finally recovered from this culture shock, I was able to attain high grades in my classes. It is then that I learned to appreciate the struggles that led me here and I realized that after all, I did belong here.

Today I am proud to say I am a first-generation student with nearly a full-ride. I DID THAT. These two tough-loving parents have indirectly trained me to always strive for what I want despite my circumstances, and to ignore the fences that seem to defeat. It's a sweet feeling to see where I am now and grasp that only a few make it here without the financial and mental support of their parents, and I am one of the few.