I feel as though everyone is staring at me, judging, even though I know no one is even glancing in my direction. All those eyes on me, I’m bound to do something ridiculous. I spent all of my middle school and high school career afraid to be myself and always trying to impress the other kids. It never worked and I made a bigger fool of myself than I ever could have by being myself, but still fear of disappointing random people is a fear of mine. I worked so hard at trying to making people like and accept me and it didn’t work.

I was a foster child for thirteen years of my life. I bounced from foster to home to foster home until I was ten years old. At the age of ten, I moved to Westport with a family that I lived with and loved until I graduated high school. Once I graduated I realized I still had questions about myself. I knew that I couldn’t go to college right away, nor did I want to. I hated the last few years of high school, why would I want to jump into college not knowing who I was.

Two days after I walked across the stage of my high school auditorium and received my diploma I was on a plane to Arizona to meet my biological mother’s family. I spent seven months there and then moved to Oklahoma to meet my biological mother. I spent two days there and realized I was not like that family. While related by blood, I was not similar to them in any way. They were bold and outgoing, loud and aggressive, and extremely country.

It took me a full year living with friends in Oklahoma to save money to move back to Massachusetts. When I finally did I felt I was ready to give college a try despite my social anxiety. I was ready, but nervous.  What would the other students say when I asked a question they thought was stupid? Would anyone talk to me? All of these questions swirled in my head. I was terrified. I knew I didn’t want to spend my college career kissing up to people and doing what I thought everyone wanted me to do, but how do I be myself and have enough confidence and strength. I decided to just take the plunge. I had already been trying to put myself in social situations more, so I thought why not?

My first semester I took three classes. I took math, history and psychology. I figured three classes to get adjusted to the school setting again. I loved my classes. I loved the topics. I had always been great at math and psychology. History I did well in but never found an interest in.

The first day of class was the most dreaded day for me. The day where you have to introduce yourself to the class. My first class was psychology, my professor finally called in me to introduce myself. “Hi, my name is Desirae. This is my first year at BCC and I have no idea what I want to study.” It felt like those tiny sentences took hours to come out. I could have even sworn I heard chuckles when I said I had no idea what to study. I sank back into my seat, I just had to keep thinking, “baby” steps.

The other classes went the same way. I stood up, introduced myself, felt like a fool for not knowing what I wanted to do with my life. Just having the other students look at me made me feel little and that I never should have come to school. As the semester progressed, I became very interested in my psychology class, even sharing ideas and stories with the class. I started to feel safe even with all the people around me. The interest in learning about the subject made the people around me easier to handle. It wasn’t all rainbows and unicorns though.

My math class proved to be a bit tougher to handle. My professor quickly found out I was good at math. I then was constantly called to the board to show the other students how to do the problems. I could feel the hate from their eyes as I solved the problem. To make matters worse, the professor once said, “If anyone has questions, ask her.” I was mortified. A few weeks into that class and I was already being called upon regularly. The stares, whether there or not eventually really got to me. I stopped coming for a few classes. I couldn’t handle it.

When I went back to math I was so far behind and I couldn’t catch up. I failed math. Failed. I failed only one class in my lifetime before. This was when I realized and became strong enough to say to myself that I am in college for myself, no one else. I knew I could do it because I had been doing it in psychology.  By the end of psychology class I was comfortable talking about controversial topics with the class. I wasn’t afraid. I didn’t care if they didn’t agree. I was starting to be myself. By the time the second semester began I knew I had to be me for me. I couldn’t fail another class because of people.

Although I am still shy I show up and participate. It’s a struggle every day I go to class. I just keep the goal of passing and bettering my life in my head. I know that I will never quite feel comfortable in front of strangers, but by pushing through it I become better at interacting with people on a daily basis, even people I know well. Striving for just a little ease and pushing through the pain to achieve my goals. That is the exact definition of perseverance.