If you met me five to six years ago, you wouldn’t recognize me today. Sure, I’m taller and I’ve grown out of the acne stage. My hair is longer; my eyebrows are better. But more importantly, my rhetoric has changed. My passions and beliefs have become more prominent. The words I say have more substance. And, I know what I deserve.
Naivety was an aspect of myself that I am so thankful can be stated in the past-tense. Today, I can read people better and know when it’s time to let go of a friendship or relationship. I no longer let everyone in, which is both a blessing and a curse, and it takes me longer to truly trust someone and let my guard down. I can count on one hand the number of people that know me in my rawest form, with my flaws and my dreams exposed to them without restraint or reluctance. As a result, I’ve learned to value the quality of the relationships I have instead of spreading myself thin trying to fit in with everyone else.
The past few years have tested me in ways I could never have anticipated. I walked away from some friendships and never looked back. I accepted that some relationships weren’t meant to be saved. I overcommitted, overpromised, and overcompensated. I lost a cousin, a grandmother, and a great-uncle. I even lost myself for a little while. But through everything, I have learned what I can handle. I’ve learned what I’m capable of. And I am so much stronger than I thought I was.
Rewind to eighth grade, when a 13-year-old girl was sobbing in the principal’s office after almost being sexually assaulted in the boy’s bathroom. Fast-forward to tenth grade, when she summoned up the courage and faced that middle school building for the first time since the incident. Push even farther forward and you’ll find a girl who pulled herself out of a toxic relationship without waiting until it got bad enough that she wouldn’t be able to. And then her senior year she was one of the Editors-in-Chief of her yearbook, despite opposition and the taxing environment. She found her passion for teaching and watched a group of 10-year-old girls that she coached stuff their innocent faces with pizza after their last game. And her heart ached when she realized she couldn’t protect them as they got older. But she also knew that these girls were going to have experiences, similar experiences that she had, that would shape them into strong, confident women. That’s when I realized how everything came full circle.
While growing up means more responsibility and sacrifices, it also means an opportunity to learn (sometimes the hard way) from mistakes. Everyone has said, at one point or another, that they wish they were a kid again. I’ve probably said it myself in the past week. But when I sit down and reflect on the almost-19 years I’ve experienced, I realize that there’s no place I would rather be at this point in time than the present. I have more knowledge as a result of my education, I have built more meaningful friendships, and I have grown into my skin and learned to love myself as I am, not as who I want to be.
My transformation is still happening. It’s a process that takes time, nurturing and patience. It means falling a couple more times and picking myself back up. And I know I have to collapse a thousand more times to become the best possible version of myself, to reach my full potential, and it doesn’t scare me anymore. It’s created a drive inside me to keep climbing, keep pushing, and keep reminding myself of my worth. My trials, experiences, and feats have made me into the person I am. And while I’m nowhere near perfect, I’m exactly who I’m meant to be.
