Since I arrived, I had wanted to leave. I thought that I needed to escape; to break free from this "prison" that was 1,694 and a half miles away from my home. Stepping into this new environment with a preconceived idea that it was going to be awful was what really set me on the wrong foot. It wasn't the people or the professors. It wasn't the trees or the grass or the honey bees. It wasn't small town life. It was me. I was the problem. I made several promises to myself that I would leave. I would transfer and find somewhere better, but anytime I began the process, I always failed to complete it. I definitely could have found a way, but instead, I made excuses because the truth was that I didn't know if I really wanted to leave.
That was until the end of first semester in my sophomore year when it felt as if my entire world came crashing down. Everything I had worked for caved in around me and I was stuck. I didn't know what to do anymore. So what better solution was there than to leave? After all, I didn't think I had a fighting chance. I began filling out applications and to my surprise, I was accepted at the University of Texas in my hometown. I was preparing all my withdrawal papers and transferring my financial aid; packing bags and saying goodbyes and then I received an email.
It was an email that changed the entire course of my life because I guarantee you that if I had run away from my problems--as I was obviously doing--I wouldn't have graduated from the University of Texas. I would have flunked out and in my eyes, I would have been a failure. Instead, I read an email from one of my professors -- one that I didn't believe cared about me or had any interest in knowing me. One that I felt humiliated around because I didn't do nearly as well as I should have, but he actually persuaded me to stay. He was the only reason I did.
To clarify, I read that email the wrong way. I was quite offended and if I was a cartoon, there would have been a hundred question marks above my head about what he was trying to say, but after a second opinion, I realized that he was telling me in the most complicated way possible that running away wasn't the answer because I wouldn't learn from my mistakes and correct them. I would only repeat them. The environment isn't what needed to change. It was me that did and he helped me understand that.
After I had been thinking, I decided to stay and work on the way I thought about seeing my school. Instead of focusing on everything the school had done for me, I microscoped every detail I hated about it. I didn't realize that they'd given me a huge opportunity to earn the degree I wanted. Before, I didn't understand that my professors actually wanted relationships with me or that they were guiding me toward a successful future. I didn't grasp that the reason I didn't want to leave was because I built relationships and connections with people that I never wanted to fall apart. And I didn't understand that they'd given me a second chance. Now, I absolutely love my college and wouldn't give it up for the world.
