Monday, May 1st, 2017. National College Decision Day.
In celebration, I set all my college acceptance letters on fire. Unlike many of my peers, I won’t be going to college next year. Instead, I’ll be volunteering abroad, vacationing on beaches, reading a thousand (that’s my goal!) books, working, doing anything and everything political and — you guessed it — studying life. I’m taking what has now been dubbed as a “gap year,” a year between high school and college to figure my life out. It’s something I knew I would have to do even before I started the college application process. I thought, “I’ve been living in Juneau my entire life. I’ve been in school for almost my entire life, too. I want to go to college, but am I really going to do more of the same without having ever seen the world from my own lens first?”
I won’t disclose all my plans here because they’re still a work in progress. My year will probably include India, teaching, some work at the Capitol and trying to gain a better appreciation for learning inside the classroom and for myself. Autonomy is the only word I’ll be obligated to live up to, and I’m excited to. In fact, I’ll use my autonomy — and international pick-your-college day — to share a story I used for my college application. Enjoy.
“An object in motion will stay in motion unless acted upon by a greater or equal force.”
When I look at the past 17 years, I see a life affected by Newton’s First Law. My beliefs would move in tandem with the thoughts of other people. My freshman year, one of my teachers looked each of us in the eyes and told us that “some people matter more than others.” With a smile, he added, “and some people don’t matter at all.”
From then on, I unconsciously separated the people who “mattered” from those who did not. My then declining interest in swimming and unimpressive school record made me believe I belonged in the latter category. Yet, I wanted to believe I did matter. After all, I was the informal captain of the Debate and Academic Decathlon teams, the president of my school’s InterAct Club and in a total of 13 activities in addition to my course load. I had even decided to embark on a new project: reviving a long-dead student newspaper.
I felt myself being pulled apart by the excessive amount of work I had agreed to. No matter what I accomplished, I still found myself miles behind where I needed to be, and others noticed. After one of my classes, my teacher took me aside and told me: “I know you can’t do it. Why don’t you just quit?”
I felt worthless. My grades were dropping, I had quit the swim team and the newspaper launch was a failure. I wondered: “Why do I hate myself?” Suddenly, an algorithm appeared in my brain. “I hate myself because I’m worthless. I’m worthless because I’m a failure. I’m a failure because …”
I realized I was trapped in a psychological ghetto. I did all these things hoping others would tell me I mattered when none of it truly mattered to me. I knew I had to escape, so I started by dissecting why I did things instead of simply doing them. As soon as I realized I wasn’t doing an activity for myself, I left it and replaced it with one I had always wanted to try, like learning to play the ukulele or taking quality photos. Then, I trained myself to ignore whatever belittling comments others would tell me, from “Oh, you don’t play a sport?” to “You won’t get into college with those grades!” In the mornings, I would even strike a pose in front of my bedroom mirror and remind myself that the day was in my control. If I ever felt myself slipping back into the trap, I recalled everything I loved about myself and everything that I wanted to improve. After appreciating the things I loved, I would work to better what I was still developing.
The more I focused on myself, the more I was able to acknowledge how incredibly powerful I am. The standards I hold now are my own, and everything I do is because I want to — every internship, service project and club — not because I feel the need for approval. No matter how much work I do, I enjoy it all, and most importantly, I know that I do matter and that I control my own life.
An object in motion will stay in motion, but that does not mean it will move in the right direction. There will always be forces pushing me to places I don’t want to go, but unlike before, I choose my own direction.
• Tasha Elizarde is a high school senior living in Juneau. Her column appears twice a month. She also writes “This Day in Juneau History” for the Juneau Empire. Read more at tashaelizarde.wixsite.com/thestorysharer.
