Eighteen; what a freaking awesome age to be. 

Right?

I don’t think I’m alone in this. At the ripening age of 18 we crave adventure, map the future, and seek love, whether it’s love in relationships, ourselves, or our passions. 

We feel alive. Motivated.

High school gave me the same strife as anyone else. Self-esteem issues, reality checks and broken hearts, culminated to mold the driven young woman I became.

I was the President of the National Honor Society, Homecoming Queen, and Most Valuable Player and Captain of our girl’s soccer team. Commanding style, I treated the hallways like runways.

I thrived on leadership; it was my calling.

By the time graduation came, confidence ruled my mentality; it was the only time in my life I can truly say I truly loved myself.

During college, somewhere between eight-page papers, exam week all-nighters, and Power Point presentations, I lost myself. I lost passion. I lost interest in life. Responsibilities I once enjoyed, like acing a test, fitting in a good workout, and even maintaining friendships, shifted into burdensome activity.

Something in my psyche deviated, the damage was detrimental.

Maybe it was the total submersion in school, maybe it was my frustration with life, whatever the reason, I changed. The mirror, which I practically idolized in high school, became an enemy. The once bright, shining personality dimmed to a bland, nearly invisible identity.

Where was the confident, spunky and energetic person I knew?

While obtaining a full-time education, maintaining a full-time job, and participating in extracurricular activities, I forgot to schedule the most essential task.

Me time.

Instead of signing up for a hip-hop class or learning to box, I slept my free time away. Although heavily involved in projects I loved, joy slipped from my life like sand through fingers.

What I finally realized, is that it’s my responsibility to make me happy. Not my boyfriend’s. Not my parents, my teachers, my friends. Mine.

It is no coincidence that my happiness and accomplishments thrived as my confidence rose, and declined as my confidence did.

What happened in the last four years of my life is not uncommon. We get involved in the daily life, kids, jobs, bills, errands; we forget what we love about ourselves. We forget the tiny pleasures that give us joy. We forget the sparks that ignite our flames.

I’m 22 now, and thrilled. Because every age I am is an awesome age to be, simply because I’m me. Every day I work a little more on improving the love I have for myself. I own my decisions. I remember my passions. I remain active.

You’ve heard it once, you’ve heard it 1000 times. And I’m telling you again. Find the fire; keep it lit.