If the world was narrowed down to Mt. Everest, I was standing at its peak. I had everything going for me by the end of high school. I graduated towards the top of my class and had a full-ride scholarship waiting for me at my first pick for college.

In my small town high school, I was poured into the foundation. I was involved in everything I could get my hands on from academic teams to student council. I had a solid friend group who I had been with since I met them in middle school and felt as if nothing could tear us apart. Even if someone didn't know me, they at least knew of me which got me onto homecoming and prom courts.

Outside of those brick walls, I had the best job any high school student could ask for. I worked at a local martial arts school as an assistant instructor. There I felt like I was making an impact on the world through the lives of my students. I felt strong and confident surrounded by my second family. In the summer before college, I even completed my testing for my second-degree black belt and nothing could stop me.

That was until I pulled up to campus. The whole summer I had dreamed about coming here, but now that I was I felt numb. When my parents asked me about decorating my room as they were moving me in, I just wanted to shove the boxes in the closet. I should have been excited because I was starting my very own journey in my own place. However, on that first night, I cried myself to sleep.

I wish I could say it got better from there, but, in fact, it only got worse. The confidence I had in high school had been lost there. In the first weeks of college, the smallest interactions terrified me, and before I knew it, everyone had already formed their own groups. I was drifting away in a sea of people. On top of that, I could not rely on my tight-knit friend group that had fallen apart over the summer, and the people I met felt nothing like them.

The ground truly began crumbling at my feet after I took my first exam. The hours I had spent slaving through the textbook and notes seemed useless. This was nothing like my high school tests, but my classmates seemed to be doing just fine. For the first time ever, I felt incompetent. Afterwards, I threw myself into my textbooks that had words that left my head spinning.

From there, I only left my room when necessary. I stopped doing the things I loved like reading, writing, and martial arts. I called my mom every day feeling miserable, but trying not to make her worry. I lived for the breaks where I would get to go home and return to some sense of normalcy.

I was lost sliding down the slope of my Mt. Everest. When the second semester started, I realized I was at the bottom again. Even so, I have decided to start climbing again. I am not ever going to be the person I was in high school, but I can become the best version of this me.

I had to remember the reasons I went to college in the first place because I wanted to help people. I cannot help others if I cannot first help myself. The steps are as small as simply being the first to say hello to someone, but they are steps in the right direction. I even started doing the things I love again. I picked up some books, started practicing martial arts again, and found somewhere to write.