I have looked forward to this day since I was a little girl. When my dad pulled me out of my second grade class to witness him vote so I could share the experience with him, I was fascinated. I remember being interested in politics even then, and that slowly translated into my teen and now adult life in my education and career as a political science minor.

As you can imagine, the anticipation leading up to my first voting experience mounted every day for the last few months. It's sort of a rite of passage to vote in the election for the first time.

I became very discouraged closer to the time though, as I realized I truly had an important role and say in this election. For the first time, I saw the voting process as a stressor as opposed to a privilege. I have since come around and kept my chin up as I left my apartment at 5:30 this morning, November 8th, and walked six blocks to my designated polling center.

A hundred things were running through my mind: Am I truly convinced that my presidential choice is the best? Have I done enough research on the various propositions on the ballot? What kind of state senators am I looking for?

You can never anticipate how election day will go, and mine was quite interesting. I stood in line with two other friends — who were equally excited to take part in their first democratic process — and within a half an hour, the machines at the polling center went down and the line was halted.

Many people became discouraged, realizing that they would be late for work or wouldn't get their children to school on time. As much as I felt for their situations, I was shocked at the blatant disdain and outright disrespect people in line had for the volunteers at the center. They were clearly panicking and had little to no direction, and were doing their honest best to get us all in and out as quickly as possible. This was the most negative experience I had throughout the day. I guess I couldn't really understand because I had left myself about a 6-hour window to vote, knowing I wouldn't want to be in that position.

Note to self: in the future, always plan accordingly. If I think I'll be pressed for time, I'll request an early ballot or schedule my whole day around it.

From there, I showed my Arizona ID, was handed a ballot, told to connect the arrow next to my choice's name, and directed to a booth. I felt my hands go clammy the moment I took the cap off of my marker. Again, I questioned whether I was making the right decisions. Everyone sarcastically jokes that our votes don't matter. I've always disagreed with this. The two-party system can sometimes make you feel a little overlooked as an independent voter but my vote still matters. Your vote still matters.

Not only does my vote matter in the sense that the future president is decided by millions of 'me's, but it matters when it comes to the propositions in my state. Nobody has the power to influence those but me, and so I matter. Luckily I felt pretty strongly when it came to those this year, so those arrows weren't as challenging to connect.

The physical voting process took 10-15 minutes. I made sure I had chosen the candidates in every section that I desired, and I turned around to hand my ballot to a nice woman with a roll of "I Voted Today" stickers. This, of course, was my favorite part.

As I reflect on my entire 2-hour process now, later in the day, I am able to feel satisfied that I was finally able to participate in something I have looked forward to since I was a little girl. I feel confident that I chose what was best for me and best for my country, and I know that no matter the outcome, the most important thing was that I got involved.