A week ago, I turned 22. I knew the day would come, and I’ve been dreading it for quite some time now. After you can drink legally, every birthday becomes a source of anxiety. You’re forced to face the difference between where you are and where you want to be, and watch in horror as your peers seem to be outperforming you. Everyone has impressive jobs, internships and fellowships lined up, and no matter how much you’ve accomplished, it never seems like enough when you’re comparing yourself to the facebook announcements popping up left and right. Slowly but surely I’m accepting that while I may not be where I want to be, I am where I need to be. I’ve made so many mistakes that I constantly replay in my head, wondering what could have been, but as much as I regret them, I know that every mistake I’ve made has led me to exactly who I am today and who I’m supposed to be. If I hadn’t had such terrible grades I never would have gone to Lasell, I never would have taken a Conspiracy in American Politics class on a whim, I never would have become conservative, I never would have switched from fashion to communications, and I probably wouldn’t be involved in politics at all today; let alone working on a campaign. I’ll never know if the person I could have been is more impressive than the person I am today, and I never will. All I know is that I’m grateful for everything I’ve learned along the way, and that I’ve never felt so equipped for what the year has in store for me.