A Mistake for a Miracle

I always thought the biggest mistake in my life was going to High School. Scratch that, knowing how much my parents had sacrificed for me, I meant my biggest mistake was going to Regis High School in NYC.

I've constantly faced challenges when it comes to embracing change. I was born and raised in Arizona and after nine years, my family was relocated to New York. I was devastated, leaving everything behind. I carried this resentment into middle school, but slowly began adapting to and eventually loving my new home. With newly built confidence, I thought I was prepared for the monumental change of High School, and with that came some unique, personal challenges. I decided to go to Regis High School for its academic vigor, the full scholarship I’d received, and it being one of the best Catholic High Schools in the US. Although I had always dreamed of one day attending, I neglected the fact that I lived 50 miles away from it, in a small, rural town on Long Island. 

My freshman year was lonely. I used to be my hometown’s star, but now I was reduced to just one more of my 132 classmates. With students coming from all over the tri-state area, I struggled to make meaningful connections as even my closest friend lived in Connecticut. Balancing my academic and social life was a daunting task, as I lost friends from my home, time with my family, and passions I had worked for all my life. I became a mindless productivity robot, focussed solely on planning for the future when I hadn’t yet realized I’d been neglecting the present. As my mental health and confidence dwindled, I began to question my high school decision, missing everything I once had. 

Aside from struggling with grades and leaving behind activities I used to love, I began to quantify my worth with that of others, just another subpar student from my 130 classmates. I considered transferring schools, thinking Regis was not for me in the hopes of regaining the friends I had lost from middle school. I remember late nights crying in my room, missing the life I used to have. Guilt began to settle every moment I didn’t spend studying, preparing, planning for the week ahead. I often skipped lunch and spent all my frees in the back of the library, alone, desperate, and hopeless. I remember thinking I never found nor will find the people who truly connect with me, share in my interests or passions, or care as much about protecting a relationship as I did. Anxious, overwhelmed, and stupid, I would cling onto the few relationships I created within Regis, trying to convince myself I had friends, that I was living a normal high school experience. Every patronizing comment I heard, ill intentioned or not, became ingrained within me, drawing a distinction between my “Home” and my “Regis” personas. I always tried to belong at the expense of not being true to myself. I remember thinking I never found nor will find the people who connect with me, share in my interests or passions, or care as much about protecting a relationship as I did. Everyone found their people except me.

Yet, as my Sophomore year began, I began to realize how much of my time and energy I had been wasting. One of the few places I still felt love, however, has always been theater. I witnessed anti-heros to the idea of self acceptance, mentors who spoke truthfully of their own identity but reminded me of the lies I had to sustain. The first few rehearsals felt strange and quiet, but the group slowly pulled me out of my shell. I felt like an irrelevant sophomore, but they accepted me as a part of the family. Entering into my junior year, they encouraged me, included me in conversations, invited me to hang out outside of school, and reciprocated the attention I had sought in other relationships. They made me feel safe, protected, and loved, allowing me not just to witness but accept how much people actually cared about me. I knew I could trust in their love and their support, regardless of the persona I presented. 

Thus, I’d say my biggest mistake now is waiting so long to finally learn to love Regis High School. In insecurity and doubt, we are the ones that hold ourselves back from accepting love doubting our own self-worth. I’ve been fortunate enough to grow with a support system, having people that share their love with me. However, there’s a distinction between receiving and accepting love. And many, as do I, struggle with acceptance, not just of self but of each other, fearing judgment, alienation, and humiliation. We are never alone, no matter the headspace we put ourselves through or the people we turn away. Even if it's taken time, I’ve finally built a fourth, new home across the street from my heritage in Mexico, my upbringing in Arizona, and my beautiful Huntington.