I just came back from a meeting. I'm not going to lie, I had the biggest attitude. With every budget report, every event that was said, I rolled my eyes and gritted my teeth. I am a Resident Hall Assistant. I'm not going to lie, I enjoy RHA. I think it's fun. I did it last year, and it made me feel good. Being apart of the community, and doing something to make it better. However, I did not expect to be here again. During elections, I knew that I was going to get Vice President. I could taste it! I had been RHA before, I knew my hall had to see that I was the perfect for this opportunity. Well no, everyone basically assumed that since I had been one before, I could continue doing the job I “loved” doing so well. I was crushed. You could tell that I was not happy about it. I tried to hide it, but my face has a mind of its own. You couldn't pay me to smile. Let's rewind back to August. I had been hired to be an RA (resident assistant). My parents were so proud, and so was I. This was a big deal! I was “feeling myself” in a major way. I thought I was all that and a bag of chips. Hell, let's throw some cookies in there too. I wasn't the most prideful, but I definitely thought I was doing a bit better than the average Joe on the street. When I told people about it, they would gas my head up. I started taking on that persona. I was amazing! I was an RA! Fast forward two weeks. I had to move out of that hall. Your girl...was fired. Why? I made a mistake during training. Was it a big mistake? No. It was an avoidable mistake. A mistake I didn't realize I had made. It was an accident. I got fired. Although, other RAs within my hall and other halls have made training mistakes, I get fired, but you know what? I've gotten over it (or I'm slowly getting over it). When I see other RAs. People that I have trained with, people that I have gotten to know, I get a sense of anxiety. Why are you here? Weren't you an RA? What's going on? I felt like I was walking around with this huge stain on my shirt. I was mortified. No one asked, thank God! Still, it was humiliating. When I see them on campus, I put my head down. You don't know me, I don't know you. Don't look at me, I won't look at you. Sitting in this meeting reminded me of that anxious feeling I get when I see a former trainee. I should've moved up the ranks. I should be somewhere else. I want to go back to that stain I was talking about earlier. When I was younger, I spilled chocolate sauce on my pink dress my Mother bought for me when I was five. I cried and felt terrible. I had to walk around with that all day. No one could console me. Not my fellow students, not my teacher, not even my own Mother when she told me it was okay. My mom took the dress, and washed it. The stain was still there, but it was faint; a little brown smudge. My mom then took it and spot cleaned it before putting it in the wash. The smudge was even less noticeable. Once again, she did some sort of magic. I don't know what it was, but low and behold… the stain was gone! It was as if it had never been there. I feel like this goes perfectly with this situation. Everyone is going to have to wear a stain around once in their life. You'll be embarrassed. You'll be mortified. It’s going to happen, sometimes even if you try to prevent it. Things happen for a reason, whether you like it or not. You're going to have to come back to center sometimes. It's alright, the best of us go through it. Everyone is special in their own way, but you're not perfect. When you get over the humiliation, you start to humble yourself. It's all a lesson. I am doing pretty well. I write for the newspaper, I am apart of NAACP, African Student Association, I plan to join my school news station. If I was an RA, I wouldn't have had time to do all of this. Things happen for a reason, and I am thankful for that. With each blessing that comes along, the stain begins to fade, until there is not trace of it to begin with.