Today marks the one year anniversary of the last day of the toughest time of my entire life.

During that tough time, I felt unbelievably hopeless.  I felt that there was absolutely nothing going right in my life, and that nothing ever would.

I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life- small things, like messing up the spelling of “parallel” in my 3^rd grade spelling be, and bigger things, like when I dented my dad’s car while trying to park it in the parking lot of my high school- but none of the mistakes I made were as drastic, or as impactful, as the ones that I made last fall.  I lost a stabilized environment that I had been accustomed throughout my years in the public school system.  I lost a lot of friends, and a lot of respect from many, many people, some that were close to me and some that weren’t.  I lost a girlfriend.  I lost most, if not all, of my happiness, and fell into a depression the likes of which I cannot properly describe in words.

Today, things are much different.  I am currently enrolled at Babson College in Massachusetts, one of the top business schools in the entire country.  I maintained relationships with friends and family that were able to stand by me during my weeks of turmoil.  I was able to get a job at the Oakbrook Park District, which put me in more social situations and gave me a sense of purpose.  I found a girlfriend, a sweet, stunning girl that I have stayed with in college, even as she finishes high school back home in Illinois.

I had to make a lot of changes in my life, in the ways I thought and acted, to get me to where I am today.  But the people (and animal) listed below were the people that were the real difference makers in getting me back to be a functional member of society:

My parents, who, as most parents do with their teens, did not often see eye to eye with me, but were loving and supportive in whatever way they possibly could be.

My sister, a person that is, quite literally, my polar opposite, and never fails to bring me happiness with her unrivaled joy.

My dog, who is my best friend in the entire world- obviously, he will never read this, but the impact that my brother has had on my life might go beyond words.

My grandparents, who constantly spoiled me with food, money, and their presence.

My cousins, who I rarely get to see, but always manage to make me smile due to their unbelievable ability to quote movies and tell stories about the strange things that have happened to them.

My neighbors, who had some inkling of what I was going through, and were unbelievably kind and gracious towards me.

Alex, Annemarie, Audrey, Christa, Katie, Kelsey, Ike, Imad, Maeve, Natalia, and Ryan, the people who had the misfortune to talk to me when I was at my lowest point, people that are among the kindest and most patient that I will ever meet.  I hope that I am still able to call them friends, and if I’m not, I was extremely lucky to call them that at one point.

Elsa, Bailey, Sophia, Kelly, Sara, and Jocy, my friends from Westmont.  You made an unbearable time livable, and despite our circumstances, I am extremely glad to have met you and extremely proud to see how far you have come.

Jacob, Kealan, Kevin, Mac, and Zach, friends that, for reasons I will never be able to comprehend, stuck with me during my times of trouble and have remained close to me to this day.  I have never had a lot of really close friends, but being able to count these guys as some of them is a true honor.

My soccer team, who, despite my lack of fitness, accepted me (somewhat) late in their season and allowed me to feel like I was a really part of something, like I had a purpose.

Ariana, who has been able to see through my biting sarcasm, mediocre looks, and lack of conversational skills to like me enough to call me her boyfriend.  Wow.

My church, and within it, the members of my youth group.

The leaders: Lars, Coby, Caitrin, Drew, Katrina, and Megan, who have guided me to a relationship with God that is more exciting and more fulfilling than I ever expected it to be while also being some of the funniest and most kind-hearted people I know.

The Seniors: Julianna, Maddy, Julie, and Kerry, who greatly outdid me in terms of energy (they also outnumbered me gender wise, which my mom always insisted was a good thing), but were always there for me to have a thoughtful 1 on 1 conversation with.  I’m amazed at the chance that I got to grow in God with 4 of the most passionate believers around.

The Juniors: Paco, Ryan, Syd, Nicole, Jimmy, Kate, Patrick, and the two Emma’s, for whom I always fancied myself to be a leader for due to my age, but who I know made a deeper impact on me than I will have ever had on them; they are all genuine, down-to-earth people with extraordinary talents, and being able to talk with all of them, and witness said talents, was a real blessing.

The Sophomores: Matt, Lizzie, Bridget, and Brooke, people that, due to the events of the past year, I didn’t get to spend enough time with, which was a true tragedy, because they are all funny, creative, and wild about God, characteristics of people that are, well truly awesome.

The many others who I had the fortune of talking to over my time back home.

My roommates, who are about as likely to read this as my dog, for making my transition back into being a “normal” person at college by indulging me in my love for FIFA and not pressuring me to drink.

Not everything is fine and dandy all the time- there are some times in my life when I feel sad, lonely, or depressed, times that bring me back to the darkest time of my 19 years.  But those times come and go, quicker than I ever could have imagined that they could.  I owe a profound thank you to God, and to the previously mentioned people, for making that possible.  Thanks to them, I am in a better place than I ever thought I could be.

Writing about something this personal will not be typical, and if/when I do choose to write about myself again, it will not be this deep or as sad- I just felt that something like this needed to be posted.

To learn more in-depth details about my story, please click here.

“It is not who I am, but what I do that defines me.”

I first heard this quote from Christian Bale, who was playing Batman in the movie Batman Begins (worse than the two movies that follow it, in my opinion).  I don’t know whether or not the movie was the origin of the quote, if a Batman comic was, or if it came from an outside source.  Whatever the case, I sincerely hope that it isn’t entirely true.  Of course, what you do is extremely important- in a sense, your actions form people’s perception of you, and if you have emotions, other peoples’ perception of you plays a (sometimes unnaturally) large role in forming your identity.  In my case, I want my identity to be based off of the fact that I think I am an honest, kind-hearted person, because I am fearful that my human flaws shine brighter than I’ve ever hoped that they would.

I was born in Hazel Crest, Illinois, and lived the first four years of my life in Homewood.  I obviously don’t remember all that much about the first few years of my life, but there are some things that stand out.  My family’s house had windows that covered almost the entire front of the structure.  I loved to pick raspberries from the garden in our backyard.  I was friends with an older couple across the street, Barb and George, who introduced me to something for which I still have a strange affinity to today: moss.

Sometime either before or after my sister was born (I’m not quite positive on the dates- obviously, I was a little young to really understand them- but I think it was after), our family moved to Clarendon Hills, Illinois, where we still reside today.  It is, I believe, one of the most tight-knit communities in the state, and also happens to be one of the richest.  Because of that, as I entered school, I was growing into a very well-endowed child.  Genetics gifted me with my mother’s proficiency with words and my father’s love for numbers (things I hope I’ve kept, considering I’m writing this blog post from my dorm room at a business school); I excelled in school, and was sometimes pulled out of regular class to do harder activities.  My family showered me with anything that I could possibly want and more.  I developed a small, tight-knit group of friends, and we did everything together- playing sports, going out to lunch, playing at recess.  My best friend Jimmy and I even wrote a book, called “The Enormous Tomato” (it was ten pages and had numerous spelling errors- first grade writing for you).

In comparison to much of the world today, I remain EXTREMELY well-endowed, something for which I do not give enough thanks for.  The downside of that, though, was that I was relatively shielded from reality.  9/11 looked like a rocket taking off to me, and I never realized its true implication until I got older.  With that increase in age came in increase in self-awareness; my carelessness went away, and the reality of the tough, unforgiving world that we live in started to hit me.

There were smaller things: I blew my arm out, and my dream of being a baseball player ended.  My best friend moved to Peoria, about three hours south of Clarendon Hills, when we were in the fourth grade.  I fell back towards the pack in academics.  My sister, who, like me, was growing into herself, was taking away some of the attention I was receiving from my parents.

There were bigger things: the realization of the true scope of 9/11.  My withdrawing into myself, which shrunk my friend circle and made me one of the quiet and weird ones.  Before my freshman year of high school, my dad announced that we would have to move from our house, while my mom revealed that she had been diagnosed with breast cancer.

All of those things, and many more, led to the start of a time in my life when I really began to question my purpose.  I was living a near perfect life, with many different things to pursue and the full support of those around me, but I couldn’t really find anything that really felt like it had any substantial worth, that made me feel like I really had a purpose.

Settling into high school allowed that feeling to dissipate a little bit.  I made the freshman soccer team, which was filled with countless talented players (Two Division I soccer players and three Division III players, and a few others that could have made it if they really wanted to), and yet I still got significant playing time during a season in which we only lost one game (and won 23, if my mind serves me correctly).  I got involved in a few clubs- Athletes Committed to Excellence and Best Buddies- and worked for the school newsmagazine.  I made more friends than I thought I would ever have, people from so many walks of life that were all so humble, and so kind.  One of those people was a girl that I would be fortunate enough to call my girlfriend- the idea of having someone like me was scary at first, considering I didn’t expect to have a real girlfriend until I was in my 20’s, but our relationship blossomed until it was close to being the core of my life.

My senior year, things unraveled quickly.  I didn’t make the varsity soccer team as a senior, something I would love to have done, considering that the team went on a surprising run in the playoffs to win the team’s first state title since the 1970’s.  I was behind in applying for colleges.  The thing that brought me to my knees, though, was the breakup with my girlfriend, which happened a week into the school year.  It absolutely devastated me.  I became desperate, desperate for closure, for confirmation that I wasn’t a complete jerk.  But I didn’t get it.  My behavior became more and more erratic- I even got a detention, something that, as people that knew me prior to this incident, was unthinkable for a person like myself.  As my downward spiral became more and more steep, I said and did things that were enormously out of character, things that I immensely regret to this day.  I tried to apologize to no avail (and still wish I could today)- the damage was done.  I moved on from my high school and had to complete my classes outside of it, away from my friends, many of whom lost all the respect they had for me.  It drove me to a deep, dark depression, something that, for a person in my position, with my hope and opportunity, was almost beyond unfathomable.

The next couple months were absolute hell.  I went to see countless therapists that weren’t helpful and multiple doctors that prescribed me medications that didn’t work.  I couldn’t play sports, barely interacted with my friends- or, what friends I had left- and some of the people around me didn’t believe that I was really trying hard enough to get better.  My heart felt empty, and I think that if my heart was stronger than my head, I wouldn’t be writing this today.

At that point, I faced two paths- a path that continued leading me to darkness and despair, or a path that brought me back on track to the life that I was living before.  Luckily, though, I was able to gather my wits and get my shit together.  I started working unbelievably hard, trying to catch up on work that I had missed when I was in my funk.  I started going into overdrive for college applications, making that everything was as perfect as it possibly could be for the schools I was looking in to.  I re-established a connection with my travel soccer team and my youth group, allowing me to put myself back into a social setting, so that I didn’t have to be so down over my lack of friends.  I also got a job, which not only gave me some good spending money for school, but also gave me a sense of purpose, that I was actually doing something for other people that was worth my time.  I became enamored with a beautiful girl who I call my girlfriend to this day, despite our distance from each other.

My depression is far from gone, and my regret over what I have done might remain forever, because I never believed that I was capable of what I did.  I have many days where I question my purpose- why I’m at school, why my girlfriend dates me, why my friends likes me- but being able to think of how fortunate I am, to be doing what I’m doing and to know who (and what) I know, gives me a light at the end of the tunnel.  It pulls me out of the past and allows me to focus: I have a future.  A future with high expectations.  Expectations that I am wholly dedicated to exceeding.