I used to be afraid of falling behind in life. It was my biggest fear from the time I dropped out of high school after 10th grade, and it remained so for more than a decade. I know that “falling behind” is a highly subjective notion, one that was a moving goalpost in my case, yet it was an idea I could never seem to rid myself of, regardless of how little sense it seemed to make.
Completing the GED test after dropping out of high school was the last achievement that I considered, at the time, to be valid. I viewed everything that came after that as “late,” and, therefore, no matter how much I accomplished or what people told me I should be proud of, it was never enough in my eyes. When I got my driver’s license at 18, I cursed myself for not having done so two years prior. When I got my first job at 20, I once again felt shame for not having done so earlier. No matter what I did, it became cause for self-criticism.
That pattern continued for 10 years – from the time I completed the GED in 2013 to New Year’s Eve in 2023. New Year’s Eve fell on a Sunday that year, and I only remember that because it was a day that changed my life.
The night before, I was at the lowest point I had ever been mentally, and that’s a hard bar to clear. Having been diagnosed with major depressive disorder at the age of 15, one would think I’d be used to ideations of ending my life, but a heartbreak at the end of August 2023 sent me into a spiral. For four long months, I woke up every day wondering if it would be my last and went to bed disappointed that it wasn’t. The day before New Year’s Eve, I had a plan in place, but, thankfully, I was unable to go through with it.
The next day, I went with my mother to church, feeling dejected and barely paying attention to my surroundings, let alone what the pastor was saying. The pastor giving the sermon was different from the one who normally spoke. I only remember that he had a thick Irish accent and cracked quite a few jokes, treating his address more like stand-up comedy than a sermon. That’s why I started paying attention. Shortly after, his tone shifted slightly and, while talking about navigating Texas roads that are notorious for being perpetually under construction, he said something I’ll never forget: “Make the most out of your detours.”
I can’t quite explain why, but something about that phrase hit me like a freight train. For the first time in all my years of feeling like I wasn’t measuring up to my own standards, I did something I had never done before: I gave myself grace.
In the weeks that followed, I realized I was continuing that same trend of self-judgment and punishment even at OCCC, where opportunities abound. I started off as a psychology major, but I always knew that my own issues would make pursuing any sort of career in that field rather difficult. In hindsight, I think I stuck with it because I had initially chosen that major when I first enrolled to try to impress someone else.
“Make the most out of your detours,” I remembered, and so I chose a different path.
At the end of spring 2024, I switched my major from psychology to computer programming, with plans to begin taking the appropriate classes the following fall. I quickly realized that computer programming was not something I was good at, however, nor did I enjoy it as much as I thought I would.
Thankfully, my time in college reminded me that I was a good writer and helped me realize that I very much enjoyed writing as well. OCCC did not yet have an English degree, and at the time I did not know if it would in the future, so I chose the next best thing: humanities.
Switching to humanities happened in the spring of 2025, and that summer the English pre-education/literature degree became available for declaration. At that point, I switched to that program instead.
Even now, as I adjust to what seems to be the right course for me, I am considering dual majoring by adding mass communications. That would make five different paths that I have tried. Just three years ago, I would have judged myself harshly for this. But thanks to that pastor – whom I only truly heard through the haze of my despair because of his sense of humor – I realized the importance of making the most of my detours.
It’s not always a bad thing to have to find a different way. Not everyone is the same, and not every path works for everyone. I wish I had realized this truth a decade ago, but even with the benefit of hindsight, I’m not sure I would change anything.
I am grateful for where I am today, despite the despair and tragedies that helped bring me here. I have made the most of my detours – and you can too.
