I'm a failure.

I committed myself to something, to some place, to people, and to something I wanted so badly to succeed in but I didn't; I failed.

Now most feedback is telling me,

"You didn't fail, you just made the choice to come home because you knew it wasn't right for you."

and while that's all nice and kind to hear, I know it's a sugarcoated truth because, by definition, I have failed. I came home from Africa after two and half months of a ten month commitment and even though I failed that college math course, that one time, I’m pretty sure two and half months does not equal ten.

You’re probably reading this and thinking that I’m being so hard on myself or that I shouldn’t think of it as a failure but let me reassure you that this is not meant to be seen as a negative aspect of my life. I am a failure, by definition, that is true, but I also think I’m a little wiser, stronger and for lack of better words, more cultured, and through these gains, I believe that there is a great amount of victory coat tailing the incompletion of my commitment. I realized that sometimes we have to fail at things in order to find true success. That maybe not everything was meant to work out because life has another door waiting to be opened to you and that in the long run the failure you once experienced will prove to be worthwhile in the long run.

For myself, I’m OK with being a failure because I’ve learned that some of the greatest successes, in life, come from the “F” word. And even though, as a society, we tend to place a lot of negativity on this word, I try not to do that. I try to focus on the fact that I put absolutely everything I had into this thing. That I gave it my all and even when I felt like I had nothing left, I pushed a little harder and I think that alone should be seen as a small victory. I think that in life we must fall down just to know that we have the strength to get back up and try again and that even if, by definition, we are failures, we have courage to keep believing in ourselves.

Côte D’Ivoire wasn’t the place for me, that I’ll admit, but I will be forever grateful for the experience of experiencing a place so unfamiliar and so challenging to me. It was through those two and half months that I learned an incredible amount about myself and the importance of my personal happiness and well being. I learned that I can handle more than I ever imagined and I might actually be braver than I have ever given myself credit for. That coming home means starting over, regrouping and feeling the never ending love from the people, who continue to support and care for me, even when I fall flat on my face.