My Story!

Jeeze oh man, as I sit here attempting to write “my story”, I have so many thoughts racing through my head. Where should I start? What should I include? Well, here is what I have come up with. The short and sweet version of my story goes something like this:

“Hannah, were you an oops baby?” A question I had actually never heard, until my dance instructor asked me one day circa 2005. Well I did not know how to respond to this so on the way home, I asked my dad. “You were a blessing” was his response. Ah ha! So that explains why my brothers are eight and ten years older than me and probably why I get spoiled exponentially more than they ever did. Growing up with two much older brothers had its advantages: they gave great advice, I learned from their examples, and they were very protective. However, I basically felt like I grew up as an only child. By the time I was in sixth grade, I was the only child left at home. It was nice in the sense that I grew very close to my parents, but I felt like I barely knew my brothers.

I spent a majority of my time at the dance studio growing up. I wanted to be in every number and on as many competition teams as possible. I realized I had found my home away from home. My dance family became my second family. I started competing at the age of 10 and after that first competition, I realized two things about myself: I had found my passion in life and I am an overly competitive person. I wanted to be perfect at this sport and I wanted to do anything to get me there. Hm… another fact about me reveals itself. I hate to admit it, but I am a perfectionist. I can’t stand completing a project that I do not feel is as great as it could be. Back to the story… I truthfully do not think I would be the person I am today without the girls I grew up dancing with. Especially my dance instructor, Jen. These were the people who saw me immediately after I got into a car accident, they saw me dislocate my knee cap my senior year, and they were the ones who stepped up when I told them my mom had been diagnosed with cancer. I know I have talked about my mom in just about every post, but this is my story, and she is a huge part of it.

After what felt like a billion years stuck in the same school district, I was finally graduating high school. I’ll admit it, I was terrified to graduate. I didn’t want to leave dance, cheerleading, track, and all my friends behind to move onto what I would soon realize to be the best years of my life. I decided to room with someone who went to my high school and it worked out well. We did not become the greatest of friends or hang out with the same people, but we were there for each other and that’s what mattered. Oh the wonderful world of Ohio State. I was loving everything about freshman year. New people, football games, being independent. Well, about a month into freshman year, I was walking to my ex-boyfriends house after a football game when I got a call from my dad. My heart dropped. Why is my dad calling me at this time on a game-day? As weird as it sounds, I immediately knew something was wrong. I answered the phone. My dad’s voice was grave. Sh*t. He told me to call him back when I could sit down. Sh*t. I cried the rest of the walk from the stadium to Chittenden Avenue. Thankfully at this point in time, my ex hadn’t yet turned into the complete clown that he would become and helped me through the hardest phone call I will ever receive. My mom’s cancer was back, and it was even stronger than the last time. I needed to come home immediately. So that’s what I did. From that point on, I went home just about every single weekend of my first quarter of college. I didn’t want to miss anything happening at home, but in turn, I missed everything about being a freshman in college. I didn’t make friends. I barely talked to anyone that lived on my floor. I didn’t go to parties, football games, join clubs, or basically do anything a college freshman should be doing. I had to grow up, and I had to do it fast. I learned more about myself in these weeks than I have ever learned before. I learned what it REALLY meant to have taken advantage of something. I learned the definitions of compassion and sacrifice. And lastly, I learned what it meant to be a fighter. Because that’s what my mom was.

On Thanksgiving evening, while half of my relatives were downstairs attempting to enjoy the food we had prepared for them, my mom passed away. Part of me went with her. I contemplated even returning to Ohio State. What was there for me? Like I said, I didn’t have friends, I had the motivation of a caterpillar, and how was I supposed to return to a normal life after this? My sister-in-law was the one who pushed me to go back. She told me how much my mom valued education as a kindergarten teacher for almost 30 years. I had to go back, for my mom.

When I got back from Christmas break, I decided I wanted to rush a sorority, and I wanted to be an Alpha Phi just like my mom. Long story short, my recruitment guide did not send my excuse form for missing a day to the chapters and every chapter thought I dropped recruitment. Therefore, I did not get an invitation back to any chapter that I wanted. The icing on the cake. I ended up completely dropping out of recruitment and was told I had to wait until the fall of the next school year to attempt to rush again. FINALLY, I was extended a bid to Alpha Phi and was initiated on 11/11/11. After everything that could have possibly gone wrong in my life actually went wrong, including letting my GPA drop to below a 2.7, something at last went right!

Now, here I am, a senior in college. I have held numerous leadership roles in Alpha Phi, I am on an amazing student organization called Dance Connection, I had an internship with the Ohio Union, I (hopefully) will be graduating with honors, and although I do not know what the future holds for me after I graduate, I’ve learned that I do not need to know. I trust that my friends in heaven will point me in the right direction and for now I’m just going with the flow.√