“I could be in a room full of familiar faces and still feel surrounded by strangers. I feel safer in my own presence.” July 2018 -ML
I didn’t always feel this way. As a young girl, all I ever wanted to do was play with my dolls and run wild with the other children. But as I got older, things slowly began to change. While others were busy living in the golden ages of adolescence, I’d been chosen as one of those tough soldiers everyone says God is looking for. At just 7 years old, I was introduced to my first baby sister, Volociti. A unique name for a unique little girl. She was born prematurely and developed cerebral palsy after she stopped breathing on only her third night back home. My life has never been the same since. Because I spent most of my time helping look after her, I didn’t get to hang out with anyone.
School.
Homework.
Take care of Loci.
That is what my life consisted of for years. I would spend a lot of my time listening to music, which opened new realms of creativity in my imagination as I explored different genres. At ten
years old, I began creative writing. Something about letting my imagination run wild intrigued me. All of my feelings, all of my ideas were either poured into some fictional story on the pages of my composition book or woven into a beautiful poetic prose. This was all I knew. While everyone else was worried about looks and dating and getting into things they probably shouldn’t have, I was writing.
My body may be here physically, but my mind is not...
August 2018 - ML
My isolation led me to believe that I never had a chance at being ‘normal,’ so I learned to mask my anxiety well. As I grew older, I became more comfortable around my peers, but not comfortable enough to fully be myself. I’m an overthinker, so I was careful not to do or say anything embarrassing. Subconsciously, my mind shifted from not fitting in to trying to fit in. By the time I graduated, I was excited about heading off to college, but I had no plans of developing a social life there. Thinking solely of my future, I was focused on becoming an independent young adult who would work hard to live the American dream.
I was leaving my small town with set expectations that I wouldn’t fit in on campus. Even though I was starting college with one of my favorite cousins, I knew he wouldn’t always be around and that’s what fueled my anxiety as my first day as a college freshman quickly approached.
What if I don’t fit in? What if? What if? WHAT IF?
I stood in the small bedroom of my great grandmother’s apartment, packing the rest of my clothes. I had anticipated this moment since the day I graduated high school, and now that the time had come, my excitement had gone. Sure, I was excited about being a first-generation college student. I was excited to make my family proud, but I couldn’t stop the massive tornado of thoughts, viciously swirling in my head.
“Are you almost finished?” My grandpa poked his head in the room, pulling me away from my thoughts.
“Just about.” I replied, closing my suitcase.
I finished gathering my belongings as he took my suitcase to load it up in the car with the rest of my things. I stood in the doorway, staring at the, now, bare room. It was once filled with so much personality. Everything, from my notebooks filled with wonders from the depth of my imagination to my video games stacked high on my dresser, was now packed away in the boxes my grandpa had carried to the car.
My desire to become successful is greater than my anxiety.
August 2018, cont’d -ML
I got settled in okay on campus. My roommate was a nice girl, but we didn’t really speak outside of our dorm. My college survival guide included going to class and spending my free time in my dorm or exploring campus with my cousin, River. Sometimes, I would go sit on a blanket spread across the soft grass at Sibley Lake on a warm sunny day and enjoy the calm splashing of the water as the wind caressed my skin while I did some homework. Though I enjoyed writing, I chose computer and information systems as my field of study because I knew I could obtain a decent paying job. On the weekends, I would return home to help care for my little sister. I’d gotten adjusted to this routine and thought my college experience would be just fine… until it wasn’t.
What could have been a normal life was snatched away from her that night and that’s when I knew. I prayed, we prayed “God, please don’t take her away.” “If she lives, she won’t live long.” That’s what the doctors say, but we still have an angel in our presence to this day. I’ll make you proud, love. Your big sister.
November 2018, ML
I woke up the morning of November 15, 2018, in an unusually good mood. I’d had a dream that my sister and I were having a conversation. She and I were joking about her having a boyfriend and it felt so real that I might have thought this was an actual conversation if she could talk. I checked my phone to see that I had a message from my dad.
You up yet? - Dad
Just woke up. About to get ready for class.
Get your things together. I’m almost there. We’re headed back to Sabine parish. – Dad
It was the week before Thanksgiving, so I didn’t think anything of it. Originally, I thought I was spending the holiday with my mom’s side of the family, so now I was even more excited as I always enjoyed spending time with my dad when I could. I eagerly packed some of my things and headed downstairs only to be greeted by not only my dad, but my mother’s younger brother as well. Being that my parents had been divorced for quite some time, and my uncle had recently just moved back home from California, it was odd seeing the two together, but again, I thought nothing of it. I had one last assignment to turn in before I left, so after loading my things into my uncle’s car, we drove across campus to Russel Hall. When I got out of the car, my dad followed. I thought it was because he was just excited to explore the campus responsible for his daughter’s education. I had managed to pull off an A-B average for my first semester and was proud to show him around. The moment we stepped out of the building, my dad stopped in his tracks and turned to me.
“I’m just going to tell you this before we get on the road. Your sister is gone.” He forced the words out.
Suddenly, the sun lost its glow.
“Okay.” was all I could manage to say, a hint of disbelief tainting my tone.
I had just kissed her goodbye almost a week ago, and that morning she visited my dreams to say it back. I still find peace in that today.
The rest of my freshman year and the entirety of my sophomore year on campus was a blur. With this newfound freedom, I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. I couldn’t even focus on school, let alone finding friends. River was there for a while, but soon had to focus on becoming a father during the later part of freshman year. My sophomore year, I roomed with another relative, Malachya. For a while, I tried to hang in there and be more social. I attended events like silent parties and other campus functions for the first time, but that didn’t last long. Slowly, I was losing my lust for life. I wasn’t happy with my major and I wasn’t happy on campus. Having a little sister that wouldn’t be able to explore the wonders of life made me feel like I had to live for the both of us. But how could I when I was too afraid to live for me?
The thoughts in my head? They’re cold. Ruthless. Sometimes I feel trapped, I need a way out.
October 2020, ML
In the spring of 2019, I returned home in hopes of being able to better focus on my work. Each day I slipped further and further into the depths of the dark abyss better known as depression. I went from A’s and B’s to straight F’s. I was struggling with the decision of changing my major because I felt like I was quitting on myself. I knew I had a gift for writing, but what I would do with it was the question. After doing some research, I found the communications department. Getting everything switched over was breeze and the professors in the department were nothing short of welcoming. This gave me hope that my college journey wouldn’t be a complete failure. Before my chance at redemption could even arrive, I was involved in a car accident that left me with no reliable transportation and because of my grades, I wasn’t eligible for campus housing. With my back against the wall, the fear of failure was slowly suffocating me. I didn’t know how bad it was until I had my first panic attack.
I was alone, waiting for the rest of my family to return. The tv was on and I was staring at it, but my mind is elsewhere. It had been ‘elsewhere’ for quite some time now.
There was so much going on.
So much, that I began to question my reality. Is this really happening?
Is any of this real?
The world was on fire just a few months ago with riots protesting against police brutality, and then it stood still as a new virus plagued the earth. I sat in my room. Trapped inside those four walls. I couldn’t remember what outside even looked like.
Man, it’s getting hard to breathe. Is my heart slowing down? Is it even beating?
I can’t breathe.
What is going on? I looked at my phone. My mom should almost be here. I don’t call her because I don’t want her to worry.
Then, my chest tightened.
This is it. I’m dying. I’m going to die here, in my room. That’s fine, maybe I’ll see my baby sister. I hope she won’t be mad, there are still so many things I haven’t gotten a chance to do for us yet.
I was breathing rapidly. It was getting so hard for me to breathe. I was trembling, unable to control my tears.
I DON’T WANT TO DIE!
God, please, if you hear me, don’t take me away from my family.
I managed to pick up my phone and dial my mother.
“Mama, where’re you at?” There was a tremble in my voice.
“I’m right outside, here I come.” She already knew something was wrong.
By the time she got to me, followed by my uncle, I was sobbing. They were asking me what was wrong, but I couldn’t answer. I was getting lightheaded. I was on my way out.
I heard them ask if I needed water or fresh air and I nodded to both.
They helped me up, but I could barely stand. I was drenched in sweat, but my body was cold.
Walking outside, a cool breeze instantly kissed my face. My mom pulled me into her arms, telling me to follow her slow, deep breaths.
I followed.
I started to feel better, but my tears continued.
I felt like I’d been defeated. For the past few months, I had been on autopilot, pretending like everything was okay – pretending like every time I looked in the mirror, it wasn’t getting harder to recognize the person staring back at me.
To me, failure meant being stuck in this place. I had so much potential that could get me to places I would only dream of if I just got out of my own way. If I just showed up, scared, nervous and all, I would be okay. That beat being in the position I was in any day.
I don’t know where I’m going, but I know where I don’t want to end up.
August 2022, ML
After taking some time to pull myself together, mentally, I finally had a second chance at my college career. This time, I would take advantage of every opportunity presented to me, even if it meant stepping out of my comfort zone. My days of isolation were nearing their end. I was determined to never cross paths with darkness again.
It was the first day of class. I walked down the halls of Kyser, butterflies in my stomach as I got closer and closer to room 106. I’d never been inside before, but I felt a sense of belonging the moment I crossed the threshold. It was a computer lab, with Apple monitors lined along the walls.
There was a huge rectangle discussion table in the middle with chairs around it and a large screen for presentations up on the wall. There was one green wall, as if to be used for a green screen. The spotlights made it feel like a real newsroom. I took a seat at the end of the table, waiting for the professor and the rest of the class to show. I waited patiently, nervously drumming my fingers along the table. Suddenly, I saw the heavy wooden door swing open and in walked a short guy wearing glasses with a black frame.
“Good morning.” He spoke as he took a seat beside me. “You must be new?”
“Not really. I just haven’t been on campus.” I replied, shyly.
“Oh, okay. What’s your major?” He asked.
“Communications,” I replied. My nervousness seemed to subside the more we talked.
“Do you know what you want to do yet?” He asked.
“Not really. I like writing, but I’m also interested in camerawork and photography,” I replied.
“Well, I’m the director of NSU-TV. We are a student run news service where student reporters produce news packages and newscasts. You should check it out,” he said with a smile.
By then, class was starting to fill up. Dr. Taylor, a short guy who wore a neatly tucked collar shirt and jeans walked in holding a white coffee mug that read “KTBS Channel 3.”
“He’s the manager of NSU-TV.” Jordan told me, “We can talk more after class.”
That conversation was the beginning of a new chapter in my story. I felt seen and accepted. I felt confident. Not even a month after becoming a student reporter, I went out and shot my first story on the Zwolle Tamale Fiesta and had it aired on KTBS. I was nervous, and even scared, but fear taught me a valuable lesson. When fear is in control, there is no progress. As a communications major, I was able to get a taste of more than just the news world. I’ve broadcast college games for ESPN+, hosted shows and podcasts, and so much more. With each accomplishment, my fears melted away, allowing me to fully immerse myself in the vibrant college culture.
Today, I am the director of NSU-TV. I am a leader, a friend, a conqueror. I am no longer afraid to put myself out there because of what others may think. Through my journey of isolation, grief, faith and failure, I have finally found the confidence to embrace my true self and the cultures around me. I learned to give life a chance because not everything is as bad as I may think. As my time at Northwestern comes to an end, I am grateful for every single person I’ve met along the way. Looking back, I realized that no matter what happened, I’ve ended up right where I belonged.
