Regarding The Gap In My Education

To Whom It May Concern,

It was my mom’s dying wish that I keep my scholarship, and finish school. She passed away the summer before my sophomore year at UConn, just a couple weeks after my 20^th birthday. My dad had died 5 years prior due to lung cancer, and my mom’s battle with cancer had begun even before he was diagnosed, so my siblings and I had been living the cancer battle for most of our existence. 

Since my brother and sister were under 18, they had each been appointed guardians. Extended family that we had met before, and had gracefully opened their doors to accept us in their homes. Our high school had granted permission for my brother to complete his senior year there, despite his guardian being located out of town. For most of that year, during the week, he lived alone in our empty childhood home, sleeping on a mattress in the attic since the house was on the market, and he didn’t want it to look messy.

My 12 year old sister was relocated to Ohio, 10 or so hours away by car. We called him Uncle, but he was more like my dad’s 3^rd cousin, or something like that. At any rate, we packed up my mom’s car that I inherited, and headed out there to drop her off. I spent a few days there getting her settled in, then it was time for me to head back to school. After all, I had promised I would. And I had nowhere else to go.

I had been awarded a full scholarship to play volleyball for UConn. Regretfully, I had blown out my shoulder early into my freshman year, and upon returning the following year, blew it out again. Two surgeries in two years, and my future as a middle blocker was looking bleak. I trained and rehabbed as much as I could, but never received clearance to play again. But, by law, I could only lose my scholarship if I failed out, or quit. I never did either one, but I sure did toe that line. 

Throughout this whole period, I can remember the feeling of plummeting quickly into a tailspin. I was attending one of the biggest party schools in the nation, so my self medicating didn’t sound any alarms. With each poor choice that I made, I occasionally would stop to consider where I was headed. But with no one to answer to, no one to hold me accountable, what difference did it make? It was quite literally a free fall.

As my senior year began to wind down, things went from bad to worse. I had absolutely no clue what my life was going to look like after graduation, and my recklessness was only increasing. Finally, the weekend before the finals that would complete my school career, I drank until I blacked out, and ate a whole bottle of aspirin. Upon finding me on our bathroom floor, my roommate literally saved my life when she called the ambulance. 

After pumping my stomach, the hospital assigned me a case worker. She asked me lots of questions about my past, and determined that I was still a threat to myself, so from there, I was involuntarily committed to the hospital for the rest of that week. I was released Christmas Eve, and I had missed all of my final exams.

At that point, I was pretty exhausted. I half-heartedly petitioned to my teachers to allow me to make up the exams, and all but one agreed. That teacher told me to retake the class over that summer, but I knew I wouldn’t. I managed to keep up the facade, though, and even wore the gown and walked in my graduation ceremony, never admitting to anyone that I hadn’t actually finished. Never admitting that I hadn’t kept my promise to my mom. 

So let’s fast forward 20 something years later. While I eventually did pull out of that tailspin, it didn’t happen immediately. I found people along the way that brought me love and support, and with that have begun the process of healing. For a long time, I referred to my experience in college as my “angry years”, and to be fair, who wouldn’t? Recently, however, some my former teammates and I have reunited, and we’ve attended a number of Alumni games. What I feared was going to be a painful ordeal, actually felt more like coming home. Having been displaced for so long, being back on campus, and being so welcomed by the community there, literally made me feel closer to my parents, like a big hug. 

So this is my personal statement regarding the gap in completing my education at The University of Connecticut. I was a child, I was suffering trauma, and I did the best I could. I don’t believe the progression of healing ever truly ends in a lifetime, but the lack of a diploma on my office wall is a gaping wound that I would like to mend. I look forward to being granted permission to do so. 

Thank you for your consideration.