The power in accepting responsibility

When I was a little girl I was told that during my entire life the only one I could count on was myself. It’s an unfortunately reality that family and loved ones move away, your elders you trusted you carry you forth pass away eventually, and friends come and go. The only stable person in your life will be yourself. Accepting this responsibility lead me on a journey to who I am today.

Let me tell you that story.

I mentally left my mother’s house when I was young to find my own path. I physically left when I was 18. I wanted to go to university and learn everything I could. I wanted to explore the world. I dream big naturally, but I’m not satisfied with being just a dreamer. I wanted to make all my dreams come true — and so far I have.

I didn’t do it through rich parents, a trust fund my grandparents set aside, or having the right connections at the right time. I have achieved travelling the world, a higher education, all my credentials, and what meagre possessions I have through constant hard work. It hasn’t been easy, nor do I expect it to suddenly be. I don’t feel bitter at all that I wasn’t given an easy deck of cards. Why should I? I am the one that is responsible for making every decision in my life as soon as I developed the awareness that I am the one I have to rely on.

This applies to both men and women of every race.

While I was a minor, I dreamed, plotted and schemed of how I would get a higher education. I worked two full-time jobs after I left high school to support myself and save up a little money to help me pay my way through university. I researched grants, scholarships, and financial aid. I asked my mother to sign for financial aid, but she refused for reasons I don’t think I will ever understand, but that didn’t stop me. I knew I couldn’t get financial aid until I was 23, married, had a kid, or been in the military. I didn’t want any of these, so I created a new path to see me through.

I worked as a stripper (yes, you read that right) during the summer because the pay is astoundingly good. I would travel to “gentlemen’s clubs” and dance, collect my tips and wages all summer which would pay for a couple classes. During the school year I worked a full time job and took a couple classes in the evening at the community college. I took only classes that I could transfer to the universities so my time and money would serve double duty on top of feeding my mind. This cycle lasted the next 5 years until I was 22, just a few months shy of my 23rd birthday.

At that time I quit stripping after the first half of summer. Then, worked full time, took only one summer class, then spent the rest of the time in the library researching. I applied to about 3 dozen scholarships — and got passed up for all of them. I applied for nearly as many grants and got only 3% of them. The one that I received were for untraditional students, also known as “old” students. I would have applied to just as many universities if they didn’t require a fee to get in, so I only applied to those that I either really wanted to get into or could afford to move to. At 23 years old, I finally got financial aid and transitioned from full time working girl with a head full of dreams to a university student with the determination to learn and forge a new path.

I knew that I wanted to go into school for engineering and physics, but I didn’t know at the time I would hate it. Within a year I changed my mind; I couldn’t stand sitting behind walls and at a computer as much as I was. I needed to be outside. So, I chose to change majors to something that would lead me to the field — I went into archaeology and indulged in my love for the past and playing in the dirt.

The rest you already know, and it has brought me to where I am today.

There is power in accepting responsibility.

I accepted that circumstances were not in my favour, nor were they necessarily in my control. Instead of throwing a tantrum like many self-entitled people do, I focused on the goals and dreams, then found ways to make it work. I knew what I had, which was a dream and determination in droves. I knew what I didn’t have, which is pretty much everything else. By accepting the limitations then finding ways around, over, under or through them, I moulded life into what I wanted it to be.

Everyone can do this. What it takes is a dream, milestones to reach there, a system to help you travel the path you forge, an iron will to ignore naysayers, and the willingness to accept the responsibility for your own choices. If you are anything like me you’ll fail several times, but you will have to pick yourself up again. You’ll want to curl into a ball, cry, and just give up the whole thing with as much fighting as you’ll have to do, but you’ll have to shake it off, square your shoulders and say, “I choose to be stronger than this.” Your friends, family, and support group can only do so much — the rest is on your shoulders.