Remember that time I was supposed to be writing an admissions essay? Oops.

I have a tattoo on my left shoulder. It says “Cheers to the miles it took to get here”, it’s not very original but when I read that quote something reached me at the bottom of the figurative hole I was in. I felt a little hope for the first time in over 2 months at that point. That was in March of 2013. If anyone looked at my transcripts from that semester, they would see that I successfully completed only one class. Honestly, the only reason I passed that class was because I had a TA who helped guide me through the deep depression that I was struggling with, and I didn't want to let her down. After that semester, I dropped out from Washington State University. That wasn't my first dance with depression.

I went through my first major depressive episode when I was 17. I missed three weeks of school (officially) and even more off the record because what high school teacher wants a girl crying uncontrollably in their classroom to disrupt and distract? After a lot of therapy and some anti-depressants, I could slowly begin to see colors more vibrantly again (that’s not a metaphor, I literally see colors less vibrantly when I’m depressed). That cycle has repeated itself over and over again in my life; high school, my first semester of college, my entire sophomore year of college, and my last semester at WSU.

So, why did I keep coming back? Some might call me stubborn, but I prefer the term persistent. I was determined to get through school so I could… Well come to think of it, I don’t know what I was going to do once I was out of school, but that’s neither here nor there. I think that persistence and willingness to go after what I want has kept me going. I’m once again in school and I had my best term ever finishing with a 3.7 GPA. If anything, living with a depressive disorder has taught me that I can (and eventually will) do anything I want to. I like that about me.