Senior Reflection: Jubilee Robinson

May 31, 2019


Jubilee Robinson

Associate Editor Jubilee Robinson at the photo shoot for her Bethesda Magazine feature.

High school has been the best four years of my life, but please do not be mistaken: just because they were the best DOES NOT mean they were ACTUALLY good. These four years have brought me a few great achievements, a lot more devastating failures, and a whole ton of lessons that I had no choice but to grow from.

This sounds like it sucks, I know, but through all of this, I learned some of the most important lessons of my life. Was it the most efficient way to learn these lessons? Absolutely not, but since when have I ever taken the easiest route in anything? I’m measuring my high school experience through those lessons, they are what made these years the best. Not because they were the most fun or the happiest, but because I learned more through each year that passed.

This is not to say I don’t appreciate the amazing successes I’ve had with the help of my loved ones and my best friends (@ Confino, CollegeTracks, Tarzwell, Mrs. Davis and everyone else, you know who you are!). This is to show that lurking beyond the surface of some of the most high-achieving students, there are some harsh (and mostly self-inflicted) realities that shouldn’t be forgotten just because they’re a good student.

I can safely say that if I traveled back in time and met myself as a freshman, I would not recognize her at all, and honestly, she probably wouldn’t recognize me. She would see my academic achievements and impact on those around me and think I had it good. She would probably assume that I was happy, and that this is exactly where I wanted to be.

I wish I could go back and tell her that none of that means anything. I wish I could drill into her head that she needs to put herself first and stop giving people so many second chances. I wish I could tell her to sleep more and stop hiding how she feels from her parents. I wish I could tell her to let people in, to let others help her, and that asking for help does not make her weak.

I wish I could tell her that I still don’t know how to be proud of myself because I didn’t prioritize my mental health. I want to tell her it’s okay to talk to someone or try medications (when prescribed by a doctor of course). I wish I could promise her that it will all be okay, maybe not now, maybe not in three years, but someday we will get there.

Most of all, I would tell her that the people around her love her so much. They want her to succeed and they will be there for her even when she thought no one could. I would promise her that I love her, even though it doesn’t feel like that most of the time. We got through it, and I’m so proud of us.

Here’s to another four years of missteps and crossroads, I can’t wait. We’ve got this.

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