Content Warning: Death, child abuse, suicide mention, drug addiction. 

 

I was told that absolutely everyone could find their place at UVU. It was then that I knew I would also find my place here.

I remember my mother often telling me as a child to “make my own destiny.” This saying has stuck with me throughout my entire life.

I was born after many hours of difficult labor. As my mother was trying to introduce me to my new world, I became stuck in her birth canal. The doctor could not see the location of my head because of the position I was in, and went in blindly to save my life using forceps. While the doctor was able to save my life, he had also mistakenly grabbed me by my right eye and back of my head, rather than at the sides of my head as he had hoped.

After my birth, I had to stay in the hospital for four days. Fluid around my eye continued to swell my brain, and there was concern that my left eye would be affected and that I would sustain some form of cognitive disability as a result. I had my first surgery on my eye on May 5, 1997, 14 days after I was born. The primary objective was to remove the swelling that caused my right eye to go completely white. I am the first person recorded to sustain this injury and never have any sort of cognitive or developmental disability. By the time I was 5, I had received seven different surgeries that worked to correct swelling, position, and function of the eye.

After kindergarten, worry about my development faded as doctors could see that I was performing at or above what was anticipated for my age group. Unfortunately, it was also during this time that my biological father developed a debilitating opioid addiction.

His addiction continued to spiral out of control, causing my family to continually move from place to place. I never stayed in the same house or place for longer than a year until I turned 12 (at which point my mother remarried). Life was chaotic. I remember constantly being in hospitals with my father, watching him manipulate doctors so that they could give him more medication.

I remember home life being just as chaotic. My father often became loud and violent, and hiding from him became part of my day-to-day life. I can recall many spots throughout our homes where I created a location that I felt would be safe and undetectable, some had food and water in case I had to stay there for a long time. My father continually received many criminal charges and spent much of his life in and out of jail or prison. One night, my parents locked themselves in a back room, excluding me from a particularly loud and aggressive conversation. When the door finally opened, my father had left, slipping out a window and escaping up the hill behind our house. Later that night as I slept, police equipped with a SWAT team surrounded our home. My mother swiftly answered the banging on the door, and was commanded to reveal where my father was. It took some time for them to believe that my mother was not assisting him in any form. We soon moved from this home.

In addition to the trauma brought on by my father, my blind eye had also become a target of cruel jokes and bullying at my school — so when my mother announced that we would be moving to Price, Utah, to live with her then-fiancée, it seemed like an answer to my prayers.

Once we arrived at Price, my initial feelings of relief quickly spiraled. I was ostracized from everyone at the very small school. My rolling blind eye became more pronounced, bringing more attention and bringing more jokes. This time around, the jokes were more intense, direct, and hurtful. Students threw drawings at my head with depictions of what they thought I looked like — ghoulish, disfigured, unhuman. Girls I thought to be friends often told me I did not belong at the school and that I should leave or, worse, die. For all of middle school I believed them.

 

The bullying did not end with the students. Teachers at my middle school told me that I would never amount to anything. Another teacher made fun of my blind eye in front of the classroom, garnering laughs from the entire class. This is how life is, I thought. I deserve this.

At age 15, my mom received a call. My biological father had overdosed and died in the night. After his death, I had many family members telling me that I should be grateful he died, and not to be sad over the passing of someone so evil. This was a sentiment I could not understand. He was my father. He was gone. It was sad. I was sad. At age 15, my whole life had shifted more times than I could count. I felt that I would never be on sturdy ground, and any time I was on solid footing it would soon collapse beneath me. I constantly felt like I was drowning, as if people saw and watched me struggle for air but could not be bothered to pull me out of the water.

My mother and stepfather consistently did what they could during my late teen years to help me see joy in life again. I appreciated it, but ultimately felt that they did not see what the rest of the world did. My classmates hated me, teachers told me I had no writing ability or mathematical skill and that I would never make it into a college. I remember one teacher specifically stating that no university would want someone like me.

I completed the last two years of high school on the varsity soccer team, eventually becoming the team captain and leading the team to state. I also accumulated 2,000 hours of community service during my junior year and over 6,000 hours in my senior year. I could not help my situation, but I could better others’.

 Near graduation I was sure I would not attend any university. As I had been told so for most of my life, I knew that none of them would want me. Even so, my parents pushed me to visit a few of the schools in Utah. This led to a visit to Utah Valley University. During my tour, I was told that absolutely everyone could find their place at UVU. It was then that I knew that I would also find my place here.

When I began at UVU, I did not have the confidence or the knowledge to succeed in school. However, since my first day of class, I have encountered students, professors, and faculty who positively influenced my future.

 I have been afforded the opportunity to be an intern at the Utah State House of Representatives, a campaign manager for a state representative, as an intern for Congressman John Curtis in Provo and in Washington, D.C., and most recently being selected to serve as President Astrid Tuminez’s intern for the 2019-20 UVU presidential intern cohort. While I now know that I have always had the potential to achieve in the way I have, I also know, without a doubt, that my growth would not have been possible without UVU.

The environment at UVU is special and nurturing. I feel that UVU truly has a place for everyone. If someone wants to succeed and grow at this school, they will. UVU is an institution of endless opportunities with so many different ways to achieve.