Failure has a way of teaching lessons we didn’t think we needed to learn. For me, it was my struggle with reaching unreasonable expectations– struggling to navigate social interactions with anxiety and the weight of depression. These weren’t fleeting moments of discomfort; they were deeply rooted fears that left me isolated and stuck in an endless cycle of self-doubt.

I often wondered if I was truly capable of being a leader or if I could ever feel “normal.” I saw these moments as proof that I wasn’t enough. Now, I see them as the beginning of a journey I never would have chosen but indefinitely shaped me into the person I am today.

During this time, I questioned if real change was even possible. Yet, no matter how far I felt from progress, I stayed determined to climb out. I began to notice how much of my stress was connected to an attainable vision of perfection. It wasn’t about achieving an impossible future; embracing the “now” and allowing myself to grow. This wasn’t an easy process. I often felt overstimulated, frustrated, angry, and embarrassed. Opening up to trained professionals about my thoughts and feelings turned out to be a pivotal moment. My mom, my biggest supporter, gave me the space and opportunity to speak– and that act of vulnerability became what I needed to heal.
I also learned that personal growth isn’t linear. During show week for Treasure Island– with 17-hour days packed with school, rehearsals, and AP homework. I had to push through exhaustion. Meanwhile, adjusting myself and my expectations of success. Along the way, I took time to celebrate the little wins– my first job, the support of amazing teachers, and being part of an organization that uplifted me.

Failure also taught me the value of persistence. I began to focus less on how others perceived me and more on showing up consistently, knowing that the efforts would pay off in due time. My faith played a central role, grounding me in verses like Isaiah 40:29: “He gives power to the weak and strength to the powerless.”

These setbacks didn’t define my character—they refined it. As I move closer to graduation, I feel confident taking on new challenges, knowing that every misstep is another step forward. On that note, I leave with you a story, told by Attar of Nishapur, about a king who assembled a group of wise men to create a ring for him when he was sad. That ring was inscribed with the phrase, “This too shall pass.”