Ever since I can remember I have struggled with finding happiness. When I was 11 years old, I lost my mother to pancreatic cancer. When I was 13, I developed a serious eating disorder that I would struggle with until I was 19. When I was 19, I was sexually assaulted on my college campus. And since I was young, I struggled with bouts of depression and anxiety.

I used to think that I was God's little experiment. How much could he mess with my life until it stopped being funny? How much hurt could one girl take until she finally cracked? Why me? Questions like these were on my mind 24/7. I hoped, I prayed, and I begged for some relief from the pain that I was feeling. I looked at everybody around me and I was angry. I was angry that other people could be so happy and I thought I was incapable of it.

I was going about everything the wrong way.

The first thing that I learned the hard way was that not everybody else is happy either. Everybody has problems, no matter how big or small, and nobody is born being happy all of the time. Sure, it may come easier to some people than others, but it isn't something you're just "blessed" with. It's something that you work for.

In November of 2014, I was accepted to what I thought was my dream school. In August of 2015, I arrived at Wake Forest University. I thought that this was my chance at a fresh start. The reality, however, was that I was running away. I thought that in a new place I would be able to wipe my slate clean and pretend like the things that I struggled with never happened. I thought that I could leave the past behind even though I never really grieved over it. I thought that my mom, my eating disorder, my depression, and my anxiety were going to just disappear, and poof! They did for a while, until I was sexually assaulted.

In October, after just a couple of months at school, I had an experience that would change everything. That would never happen at a place like Wake Forest, I told myself during orientation at a presentation about sexual violence, what do I have to worry about? I thought this for a long time, even after it happened to me. You see, I refused to even entertain the thought that what happened to me wasn't right. I blamed myself, I blamed drinking - in fact - I blamed everybody and everything but him.

As the year winded down for me at Wake, I realized that I wasn't happy. I would look out over the green grass and up at the blue skies, but all I saw was gray. I cried a lot. Every day, in fact. I felt like something that I was so excited for, something that I was so happy about, was ripped out from under me and I couldn't get it back. I thought that if I lost Wake Forest, I would lose everything, because my education was the last thing that was important to me.

Ever since I was young, I had always been the student type. I love learning, I love studying, and I love getting good grades. At Wake Forest, I got lost in a lot of things and buried myself in a pursuit of perfection. Getting a 4.0 was all that I cared about after my first semester, and I did it, but I'm not proud. I thought that this was the one aspect of my life that I could control, and while there is nothing wrong with striving for success, it ended up taking over half of my life.

And what was the other half, you ask? Well, it was the opposite: partying. Work hard, play hard. The phrase echoed through my mind every day. All I needed was school and I spend the rest of my free time drinking to drown out having to think about anything else. On the outside, I probably looked like I was having a blast. On the inside, I was dealing with the most difficult time in my life. I was broken, but I wouldn't do anything about it. I didn't care to pick up the pieces. I didn't think I could be happy, so I didn't even care to try.

Like I said before, I thought my life was God's game. I thought that there was nothing that I could do about turning my life around and that I would just be unhappy forever. I thought that there was no point, because something bad was just bound to happen again. Ironically, I felt safer being sad, because how could it get much worse?

During a summer session after my first year at Wake, I harped over the thought of taking a year off. I knew that I wanted to transfer, but I didn't know how to be serious about it. I didn't know what the hell I wanted to do. I had no plan, and I was terrified. All I could think about was what other people would think - Was Wake Forest too hard for her? Is she like, a dropout now? I felt ashamed. School was always my thing, and I was giving it up for a year to figure myself out. To get myself help. To find happiness.

And finally, I handed in that form.

I remember tears rolling down my face while I handed my withdrawal form to the lady behind the desk to take the semester off. I remember the drive home after I took my final exam - I don't think I listened to any music for the eight hour trip. I just drove, wondering what was next, what I would do this year, if I would ever go back, where I would go instead.

I was already trying to make a plan, when the truth is, life puts things in front of you that you can't ever plan for.

This past year was the best one of my life. I worked a shitty retail job, I went through extensive therapy, I found myself, and I found somebody that I love. I learned that happiness isn't just handed to you on a silver platter. You aren't just born with (or without) the happiness gene. Happiness comes from solving problems, facing hardships, and triumphing over them - and that's what I'm ready to do here at Lehigh University. Now, I actively seek happiness by doing what makes me happy — writing, learning, and loving.