My senior year of high school was rough.

I mean, anyone's senior year of high school is going to be rough. Though change is inevitable, it's similarly terrifying, and because of my lifelong struggle with generalized anxiety disorder, I can't accept change whenever it falls into my lap. While everyone grappled with choosing where to go to school, or whether to even continue their education, I felt as though my future was far-off. I had much more present problems to deal with.

After spending twelve years of my life on hardwood dance floors, I stepped away from a lifestyle that had carried me from crayons to perfume. Dance had always been part of my life. I high-kicked in metallic magenta hot pants on the middle school spirit squad before graduating to the prestigious high school team, where I reveled in winking at the senior boys mid-routine at every assembly and being the center of basketball halftime attention. Almost anywhere I went, one could find me with poms in my backpack or one of my teammates at my side. Dance served as the best escape from whatever else went on in my outside life. In all of its strange yet beautiful forms, dance brought me the most comfort through the release it helped me feel and the people it surrounded me with.

However, throughout my junior year, my mental health worsened and affected everyone around me. I worked harder than anyone else on the squad to keep up after a surgery near the end of my sophomore year, but found my performance falling behind rapidly. My friendships with other girls on the team soured, my coach placed even more pressure on me than I placed on myself, and I felt drowned by the very thing I loved. Though I tried out for the team again, I made the very difficult decision to step away from the team in April of 2017.

Leaving the team meant leaving behind every ounce of reputation I'd built up over three years at my school. No longer would I be the drill team spirit leader giggling at her math tutor after school or doing triple pirouettes into a tilt kick on the gym floor at halftime. I turned in my costumes with a sense of finality and a heavy heart. As my friends abandoned me, I fell into the deepest depression I've ever endured. The first few weeks of senior year without my teammates alongside me scared me. I was almost completely isolated at school, work, and church because of my decision to quit, which led to even more anxiety as to whether or not I'd made the right decision. Panic attacks became a daily occurrence and I felt as if there was no future for me in my hometown.

But, through the help of the wise teachings of my mother and my own will to come out a better individual, I came to learn that the only way out is through.

One day, in my English class near the end of my junior year, one of my other friends suggested I join the debate team. I'd never considered it a possibility before. However, I showed up to the first team meeting my senior year, because I needed someone to latch onto and an activity to fill my time, and fell in love. My first and only full season of debate became my most successful.

In my senior year, I qualified and competed at NSDA Speech and Debate Nationals, which allows only the top three percent of debate competitors worldwide. I also was district champion in both speech and debate, as well as a finalist for the same events at State Championships. I surrounded myself with brand new, more positive friends, who taught me so much about my self-worth and confidence. I metamorphosed before the eyes of my classmates, teammates, and former dance team. Speech and debate gave me new opportunities, college scholarships, better influences, and a loyal group of friends.

So, how did this transformation happen?

My mother always describes it as my own personal resilience. Resilience, as defined by the American Psychological Association, is "the process of adapting well in the face of adversity, trauma, tragedy, threats or significant sources of stress — such as family and relationship problems, serious health problems or workplace and financial stressors. It means "bouncing back" from difficult experiences." The article notes that resilience occurs every day and is an ordinary part of the human plight, which means that you have probably been resilient as well.

Resilience works in a pattern called the "Seven C's of Resilience." The Seven C's go as follows:

• 1. Competence – being competent in many different areas gives us skills and tools to pick ourselves back up.
• 2. Confidence – the belief that you are strong enough to get through whatever trial you are facing.
• 3. Connections – reaching out to people is an important part of the healing process and an integral stage of resiliency. My connections led me to the debate team, which gave me the tools to excel.
• 4. Contribution – serving others will help you feel better and remind you that other people are struggling with similar trials.
• 5. Character – a clear sense of right and wrong can help you navigate stressful situations.
• 6. Coping – developing and teaching yourself healthy coping strategies, such as meditation, writing, or talking to a therapist ensure the safety of yourself and your loved ones. People who have developed healthy coping mechanisms are more likely to be able to bounce back.
• 7. Control – learned while you are young, fulfilling responsibilities and obligations helps you feel more "in control" of your situation. This can be anything from simply getting out of bed that morning to accomplishing difficult tasks at school or your job.

So even if you haven't noticed it in your own story, you have probably demonstrated these behaviors in your own daily life. For example, I saw an increase in my character as I made the switch from dance to debate, as I became more cognizant of exemplifying kindness to those who weren't always shown it. I became less and less ignorant day by day. Dance had left me bitter and angry, while debate softened the jagged edges I'd grown and helped me understand that vulnerability doesn't equate to weakness.

So even though my senior year was rough -- there were days where I missed my old self, and days that I felt completely alone even when I was doing what I truly loved -- I couldn't be happier with the way things played out. I am forever grateful for the difficulties I fought with because they made me a better person and gave me some of my best friends, most cherished memories, and talents I never even realized I could utilize. Even though I was truly alone and had some of the hardest days of my life, this sadness helps me distinguish pain from pleasure.

Familiarizing yourself with the Seven C's, as well as teaching it to those around you, can help you through the stresses of life just like it guided me from the gym floor to the Nationals stage. Resilience may be a hard pill to swallow, but the toughest lessons always give us the most valuable results.