As I sat down on the first day of my Medical Anthropology class, my professor didn't give us the whole "My Expectations of You for the Semester" speech. Instead, she asked us what our preferred pronouns were, what we want out of the class, and what our major was. After we all introduced ourselves, she told us all about her history and her passion for anthropology.

But what stuck out to me the most was that she said, "I hope none of you know that much about yourselves yet because that means you've been through something traumatic." At first, that thought was pretty intriguing. Then, a few days went by, and as I was running, her words kept replaying over and over again in my mind.

I couldn't shake it any longer. I knew her intentions were well when she said it, and she genuinely meant she hopes we discover who we are, but not yet, not right now.

I know who I am. I know a lot about myself. Not everything, but a damn good amount at 21 years old. I'm not afraid to admit that. I've been through enough over these last few years, to know that I am stronger than my weakest times. Or, according to her, some traumatic instances.

Over the last four years of my life, I've been through more than enough to know who I am. But, more specifically, this past year I have discovered more about myself than I could've ever imagined.

I have lost some of the most important people in my life. I learned that you can still love them endlessly while they're in heaven.

I had an injury that completely took out my love for life and my sport. I learned that I am still whole, even when I am broken.

I contemplated changing my major more times than I can count. I learned that I don't have to be the smartest in order to be passionate and successful.

I watched my parents marriage unfold completely, right in front of my eyes. I learned that you can't always be naive to the things that happen between people you love. You just have to accept it.

These are all things that have shaped me into who I am. They taught me that I can go through the darkest of days and still choose to smile. I still choose to have faith. I still lace up and run for pure bliss. I still go to class, even when I feel so defeated.

So, Professor, thank you. Thank you for challenging me to think how much I know about myself. It's hard for me at times to take such a strong stance and confidently say I know who I am.

In today's society, millennials struggle more now than ever before. We have people from each and every direction pressuring us to graduate "on time", or to find a job that "pays well", or to look a certain way to fit the mold of what's "desirable" and "deserving of love".

Yet, we're expected to ignore all these things that are shaping us into the mentally drained young adults we are. To me, it just doesn't make sense that people are still saying that we don't know much about the world. Maybe we don't know that much about your world, but our world is worsening by the minute.

We're competing for jobs right out of college that are deeming for more experience. We are working towards a degree while juggling health, happiness, a job, and social life. I know people reading this are thinking "Oh, boo hoo."

Unless you've been in our shoes, you don't understand this pressure of constantly trying to be perfect, successful, and respected.

But I will never be embarrassed of my hardships or try to hide them. I won't stop writing about them. I won't let them stop fueling my desire for my future.

I love being able to tell so many people what I want to do for the rest of my life, and why. But if I didn't know who I was, or what I stood for, I wouldn't be so passionate about my future of helping others with their struggles. It allowed me at 15 to know what I wanted to be for the rest of my life.

I know I still have a lot to learn. By no means do I think I know everything, and at times, it's okay to be naive. It's good not to have everything figured out, but I refuse to admit that I don't know who I am. The next few years, I'm sure, will bring lots of hardships, but they will only make me stronger.

For that matter, more poised in who I'm becoming.