This story starts in 2020, during COVID. I was in 8th grade. Growing up, I’ve always really liked school despite all the bullying I faced and the struggles at home, but a person can only endure so much before they reach their breaking point. 8th grade was when I reached mine. I went from being an honor roll student to skipping classes and not learning a single thing. I was so consumed by depression and anxiety that I felt suffocated. I understand that it was a tough time for everyone when COVID hit, and school became completely different, but I’d never done worse in my life in terms of grades. COVID was my excuse. I hid all the parts of me that I deemed weak behind my facemask. I was at an all-time low and I accepted it. I was okay because I couldn’t get any lower than I was at that moment. A constant feeling of everything and nothing all at once.

Then freshman year started. “I want to drop out of school,” I told my mother. My poor mother didn’t know what to do. Her child was sobbing every day, begging her to stay home. How could she say no? It had been months since school started, and I hadn’t gone a single day. My friends were amazed that I could go that long without receiving a letter from the school. “Lucky,” they called me. These people had no idea what that word meant. Social services had started to realize what was going on, and suddenly I was being summoned to court.

Here’s what I remember from that day: I was up for most of the night in excruciating pain and vomited a total of seven times. That was the last thing I did before I walked out the door. They had us sit in a room I’d encountered before with my social worker and two strangers in it. They told my mom that if I didn’t go to school every day without fail from that point forward, I would be removed from my household and put back into the care of my social worker. She was sobbing. I felt sorry for her, but other than that, I felt almost disassociated. I don’t remember the rest of that day.

The following week, I had to tour a new school. A school called LightHouse. The best part of it all was that there was absolutely no reason for me not to show up—the school was across the street from my house! How lovely. They would probably call me lucky. Now, I had never heard of this school before, and honestly, I wasn’t excited to start. I had been given an ultimatum, and there was no way in hell I would be able to pull this off. Or so I thought. 

The school was small, but pretty. I had no intention of being there long, so I played along. I guess this school had advisors? That was new! Mine was very sweet. Her name was Lucy. If I had to drag myself out of bed to come here, at least I would be meeting with someone kind. She was almost too kind. In fact, she was the perfect advisor.

Day after day, I slowly started to realize something new. Something different. Now, don’t get me wrong, if I hadn’t been through such terrible things in my life already, this would have taken the number one spot. But I was starting to feel a bit of interest. I guess I’ve always liked writing. How come I never realized just how much I enjoyed it until I got here? My advisor started to guide me in my writing, and I thought, “Maybe a little longer wouldn’t hurt.” I kept writing and writing. 

LightHouse was very supportive of me. I’d been used to being treated in a lot of ways. I knew when I was being brushed off, neglected, or taken advantage of, so this feeling was very odd. This place made the line of that ultimatum above my head blur, and suddenly the thought of dropping out no longer wandered in my thoughts. Shocked would be an understatement. This school was there to help me with whatever I needed, and I didn’t have to give up anything in return? The people here are unlike any I’ve ever met.

Through this school, I began to be able to feel again. This realization sparked something within me. Hope. There’s another way! It made me curious about how many amazing things I had yet to discover that were right in front of my eyes. LightHouse offers many things that you wouldn’t be able to find in a lot of places. I often felt left behind because of my situation before, but no such thing as “behind” existed at LightHouse. My pace may differ from others, and that’s okay. We are all human, and we learn in different ways and at different paces. This is the premise of LightHouse—an alternative way to a system that doesn’t help everyone.

I truly couldn’t express to you what going to this school has done for me. So once again, I begin to write. I never thought I would be here writing this. If you had asked me in 8th grade where I thought I’d be now, I probably would’ve told you I’d be doing absolutely nothing and rotting in bed. But I can proudly say that I’ve rekindled my relationship with my confidence in my academic ability. 

I’m a senior in high school applying to college. COLLEGE. I’ve been doing all kinds of things, and I’ve honestly never been more motivated in my life. I went from declaring that I was going to drop out to applying for college. That’s what LightHouse has done for me. I couldn’t be more grateful. It seems the stars have aligned, and now it's my turn to claim the luck I once only heard of.