By Viviana Pruett-Saratan

Staff Writer

There I was again, sobbing in the school counselor’s office, hyperventilating. My counselor sat across from me with a slight smile, as if she found my fifth time crying in her office entertaining.

“I don’t think you need to drop the class, Viv; you have an A,” she said.

I shook my head. It was an honors history class taught by one of the strictest teachers in the school. I had already cried about his class multiple times in the first two weeks, so how would I survive an entire year?

Almost every day during my senior year, I would cry. I cried in the school counselor’s office, burst into tears in the middle of art class, the bathroom, the nurses’ office, my car, study hall, and the library. I felt the weight of my anxiety as I had never felt before. Sometimes I would cry so hard I would get nosebleeds or make myself sick. I was an anxious mess who could barely do anything without criticizing myself, carrying a heavy weight of guilt and imperfection.

“If I am a mess now, how will I survive when I get to college?” I said between tears.

I knew in my bones I had to take a gap year. After filling out application after application, I would sit in despair, knowing I was not good enough for any of the schools I was applying to. Even for schools with 80% to 90% acceptance rates, I thought I did not deserve to get in. I always sold myself short, believing I was not worthy of participating in anything considered smart, athletic, or talented because I was none of those things.

College was above me; it was something I knew I would not succeed in at the time. It was for my smart friends with 4.0s, 10 AP credits, and STEM club memberships. College was not for a girl who crumbles in anxiety when she has an exam, starts crying when a teacher looks at her wrong, and hides from challenging opportunities in fear of failing.

My lack of confidence was paralyzing. But I had dreams. I imagined myself as a strong leader who works with great minds and uses her skills to change the world. Even with this dream, I knew my anxiety would hold me back. I had to heal before I could be resilient, confident, and able to push myself to reach my goals.

By the time all my friends started their first days at their new schools, I started my first days at a new job at a small bakery. I had a plan. A job gave me income and structure. I added little hobbies like yoga, ballet, and random projects to keep active and stimulate my brain.

The biggest challenge was executing my plan. Most days I came home from work exhausted. My motivation would dissipate. I found myself lying in bed most days, staring at the ceiling or pacing around my house, unsure what to do with myself. I lasted three weeks before I quit due to its toxic work environment.

I felt like a failure again. I was not in school, did not have a job, and still did not know what I was doing.

But I picked myself up and found a new job as a hostess at a restaurant. My experience there helped my confidence grow the most. My job was not just seating people; I had to communicate with customers, coworkers, managers, and chefs to ensure everything ran smoothly. It was intimidating at first, but as I continued, I became a master at my job. I could hear it in my voice: I was growing.

As the year progressed, I noticed subtle changes in myself. The days of drowning in despair lessened as I found happiness in my job and a routine where I could use my time for my interests. I took adventures, exploring what I could accomplish, whether that was a 7-mile hike or a solo trip somewhere near or far. I was constantly working on a plan for my future, being proactive with college applications, scholarships, and opportunities to round out my skills. My plan changed multiple times, but I learned to be flexible and not grip too hard on making it perfect. I met my therapist once a week to help me heal from past trauma and cope with present stress. I started a yoga teaching certification program that changed my perception of life.

The real test came when I got to Delaware County Community College. I was so anxious for school to start. Will I be able to do it? Did my year pay off?

The first week gave me my answer. Yes.

I am a completely different person from who I was in high school. I surprise myself with the sound of my voice speaking up in my classes. I am excited to complete my assignments, even more so when they are challenging. I carry myself differently: speaking with assuredness, walking with strength, moving through the day with faith and gratitude. I go to bed excited to wake up. I am excited to go to my classes, do my assignments, and go to the gym. I have never felt so content with my life.

My grades are a clear sign of my change. As a high school student, they fluctuated from A’s, B’s, and C’s, but now I have all A’s, with zero missing assignments, and I complete every assignment to the best of my ability. The outcome shocked me. I genuinely did not think my gap year would make that big of a difference.

I still have a lot to learn. My perfectionism haunts me when I am completing assignments, and anxiety weighs me down until my body shakes, but not enough to prevent me from moving forward, as I have learned resilience. That resilience and confidence will carry me through life to achieve my goals. I can see myself in a light of success: a strong, loving woman capable of great things.

My tears were just a sign that I needed time to heal. My decision to take a gap year was the best choice I ever made. I would not be the person I am today if I had not.