It did not take me long once I entered high school to figure out the kind of person I was. I was the girl who did everything. I was the girl who wanted to do everything and do it the best I possibly could. I played a sport, was a serious dancer, was president or on the executive board of numerous clubs, made the honor roll, took AP classes, was the Distinguished Young Woman of my town, worked as a manager at a restaurant 15 to 20 hours a week, and was even named the 2014 Wisconsin Youth Leader of the Year.

And I was proud of all my accomplishments. I had everyone in my ear all the time telling me how impressed they were with all that I did -- how they knew that I was going to do so many things. So, I told myself that I could manage it all.

I, like many people, lied to myself and said that I worked well under pressure. For months and months on end I wouldn't stop moving. There would be days that I would leave my house at 6:30 in the morning and wouldn't return until 11 o'clock, smelling like sub sandwiches from work, my homework not even started.

I don't want this article to sound like I'm bragging. I was not some outstanding human being who was super good at everything and had all of her priorities straight, because that couldn't be farther from the truth. While, sure, I had an impressive resume, I had let the important things in my life slip through the cracks. Sometimes, even kindness. I put all of the wrong things first.

I noticed myself falling into a cycle. I could maintain all of my activities for a few months without any problem at all. I would tackle each problem as it came along. Pass this test, work this eight-hour shift, make posters for this event. But then there would be weeks where I couldn't keep it all together anymore.

Something insignificant would set me off. It could be anything. My senior year of high school a teacher had sent me an email asking me to do something the day before and I had checked it too late. The teacher wasn't even upset, but that night I had a panic attack on my parent's bedroom floor, crying and screaming about how the world never stopped moving. As soon as I was done with one thing, another obligation was shouting at me. Another test, another shift, another event.

But I would eventually calm down, eat some ice cream, and move on with my life. And then six months later, when life caught up to me again I would be right back on the floor wondering why the world just couldn't take a pause.

When I arrived for my first semester at college I noticed the same thing start to happen. While I watched many people around me struggle to adjust to being away from home I had absolutely no problem. I joined a sorority and a few clubs- not nearly as many as in high school but enough to keep me busy.

But college is hard and just like always, within a few months I felt as if I was being attacked from all sides. A week away from Thanksgiving break I suddenly missed my family more than I ever had before, I always felt like there was some homework assignment I wasn't doing, and each day brought a to do list longer than the last. But I made it through my first semester and I did very well for myself. But I couldn't deny what I was feeling. I was burning out fast. I needed a break. But I didn't know where I could find it.

But then God showed me the way. My first week back from winter break, my friends convinced me to go to church with them. I was apprehensive at first. I was used to my own church back home, my own religious practices, the comforts of the faith that I had known all my life. But I decided that I would go anyway. That was the best decision of my life.

Sitting in that service, listening to God's word, I felt something move inside of me. It was as if I had been living my whole life in a bubble and it had finally just popped. Everything in that moment made sense and I knew that God had brought me here for a reason.

As I listened, time ceased to exist. I wasn't watching the clock or worrying about what I had to do next. Instead, I was in awe of understanding and a peace I had never felt before washed over me. All I needed in life was faith. All I needed in life was Jesus.

I was crying for the first time in months and it wasn't because I was in a panic, but because I was in peace. My heart surged in my chest when I left that day and I cried in the car with all my friends. And for the first time ever, I knew what it was like to cry not because of fear or anxiety or confusion, but because of overwhelming tranquility. My life has not been the same since.

I still find myself overwhelmed. I still find myself wondering why the world can't just slow down. And sometimes I still find myself crying on the phone to my mother because I am overloaded with stress. But, now, I know that there is a pause button. And God will let me use it whenever I need to.

Sundays have become my favorite day of the week. When I worry, I simply tell myself that all I have to do is make it to Sunday. Or make it to my dorm to read a scripture. Or say a quick prayer in my head.

I am still figuring things out and exploring my faith but even in these past months I have realized many important things. Comfort is not far away, because comfort is in Him. When I am with God, I am fully present. I am at peace. When I am with God the world doesn't move quite as fast.