The only opinion of you that matters is your own

I was called to the guidance counselor's office my junior year of high school. She wanted to talk about my future. I sat in her office, staring at the wood paneling on the walls and the cheesy quote poster on the wall. It was an unseasonably warm day in early spring and I was full of regret over wearing my Maurices jeans and a long-sleeve t-shirt. (A day for layers... something I hadn't learned yet at that point.)

I wanted to be a doctor. I hadn't put a lot of thought in to what actually becoming a doctor entailed, but I knew they made a lot of money and I liked helping people. I also knew that would get me out of this small town in Southern Illinois.

"I don't know that you'll be successful in the medical field. You should probably consider another major." Excuse me? She went on to explain that because I'd dropped out of honors geometry this year and was average in sciences, I likely wouldn't get accepted to a major university. But I was in the top 20 in my class of nearly 200. With nearly a 4.0 GPA. I scored a 27 on my ACT. What in the world was she talking about. She asked if I had considered community college. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I clenched my teeth together and kept looking up to try to keep the first tear from falling.

I told her no, I was going to the University of Illinois. She made a face I will never forget. And in that moment, I second-guessed everything - whether I was smart enough to be a doctor, smart enough to get in to U of I, smart enough to even be in the room having this conversation.

Just a few months later, I stood at the mailbox, a high school senior. I pulled that white 8.5x11 envelope out of the mailbox. I had heard that if you got this kind of envelope, you were accepted. I stared at that University of Illinois stamp at the top. My heart started racing as I ripped it open. Standing there, at the end of the driveway, I read "Congratulations, Jayme, and welcome to the class of 2007."

I wish I could say that I never let other people tell me what I was capable of ever again, but that wouldn't be true. I've spent a lot of years full of fear, worried about whether I was good enough, thin enough, pretty enough. I've let people discourage me and I've backtracked when I start to have real progress at something. If I'm being honest, I've never truly believed I'm capable of achieving the things I really want because there's always been a guidance counselor that I've let get in my way. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I've lead an amazing life, full of great experiences and opportunities, but I've never grabbed at what I've really wanted because I've focused on the things I already know I'm good at and played it safe. The thing I've learned, though, is that we are responsible for where we are in our lives and when you really stop and think about it, the only opinion that matters is the one you have about yourself.

On Friday, I got on a plane by myself to fly across the country to spend the weekend with people I met online. Coming down that escalator at Salt Lake City airport and seeing someone I only recognized because of her Facebook profile picture was so cool. We talked and laughed in the Lyft ride all the way to the warehouse and it was like we'd known each other for years.

And yesterday, I sat in a room of over 800 beautiful faces, all committed to helping other people and helping make the world a better, more positive place. And I felt like I deserved to be there. I felt like I was with the people I'm meant to be with and doing a job I can put my whole heart in to and feel good about. I felt like I could finally love me, as broken and messy as I am sometimes.

Now, I sit on the plane back to St. Louis with my second cup of coffee, my free almonds and my computer (God bless onboard WiFi, can I get an amen?) writing this post to you. Decked out in my black pocket leggings (those pockets = travel ease, btw) and black boyfriend hoodie with my hair on day 2 of curls (because who has time to worry about hair for a 9 a.m. flight), I get a little teary-eyed thinking about this gift I've been given. The confidence and passion I have is something that poor high school senior would have never thought she'd have standing at that mailbox holding an acceptance letter.

Life is too short not to do the things you want or to worry about what other people think of you. It took me 34 years to really feel like I believe that.