As I wait to face the adversity that awaits me in the next two weeks, I wonder how many times one has to fall until they have fully learned to walk. It seems that life is a never-ending battle with my shoelaces…one minute I’m up, the next I’m down. In 2 weeks I will have been adopted, officially, for 5 years. As that date approaches, I am at risk of losing everything I have built and worked at not losing in the last 22 years. As the trials are laid out, I know that I am loved and that I have 3 wonderful women who care about me more than I can describe, but it doesn’t change the fact that in the next few days I’m not sure where I’ll be. I’m not sure if I’ll be here or with a friend or in my car. As midterms approach for school I stress the magnitude of them and the effect it may have on my grade, knowing that I still don’t understand the materials given. As my family day comes up, I can’t help but wonder if they will ever remember. If I will ever mean enough to them that they will sincerely lend a shoulder in adverse times. And as I think about all of this a voice whispers in my head that says, “you created this stress”. The truth is, I may have. I may bring it upon myself to do the absolute best I can in school and to hope for a family. I choose to work while in school so I can pay my way through life. But even still, I have fallen into that hole again and can’t seem to get back up. Only this time the hole is filled with murky water. The hands that reach in to pull me out are sometimes met with bites or snarls and sometimes embraced because I have been here before. I have fallen into this hole many times. Each time a different experience with different components. I am grateful that in this fall I do not have 6 kids to take care of make sure are well, I only have myself. I don’t have to worry that 6 mouths are fed, homework’s done, and teeth are brushed…only one. I’ve tripped again and know I’ll get back up, but this hole seems much deeper–much murkier–than those I’ve experienced before. The light at the top seems further away and the oxygen is short. This fall has me on my back, broken and quite bruised. With all the support I have, I shouldn’t feel so deeply lost…but I am–and at this point in life, I don’t know where to turn or what to do. Because for years, I knew I could do it on my own and I wanted to…and now I know I don’t have to do it on my own, but I am scared not to.