2026 – Abigail Tharp – Carbon High School HS

Learning “Help”

I went into high school, totally confident and ready to tackle the new challenges that I knew faced me. But boy, was I unprepared for what was to come. 

Freshman year wasn’t too bad. I made some new friends and did well in school. Sophomore year, I tried doing a school sport. Tennis was so much fun! I had friends doing it too, and being actually fit felt awesome. It had some drawbacks, though. I missed quite a bit of school to make it to competitions. Practice was every day after school. All that left little time for homework. That made it much more difficult to keep up. It took a toll on me, but it was worth it to me because of how much fun it was. Next year, I did it again, this time more prepared since I knew what to expect. 

Junior year was probably the hardest year of school I had ever been through. I signed up for several difficult classes, not really thinking it through. I had done hard classes in the past and been fine. I could do this, right? Wrong. The classes turned out to be much more than I could handle. Plus, add tennis on top of that, and it wasn’t working out. I dug a deeper hole, thinking it would fix things, but of course, it didn’t. It only made them worse. Right off the bat, I had to drop my chemistry class because it just wasn’t working out. I hated the teacher and felt like I was learning nothing. Plus, I missed way too much for tennis. I had never dropped a class before, so it was something I wasn’t 100% comfortable with. After dropping it, however, I knew I made the right decision because it definitely helped. As the year went on, I struggled to keep up with my AP Literature and Composition class. I wasn’t understanding the material despite going and talking to the teacher several times. I have always strived to take classes that will challenge me, and I really enjoy learning. I’d been taking Honors classes since middle school, and everything had always been fine, doable. But this was different. It was like jumping up three levels of difficulty instead of one. I eventually had to drop it as well. I did not end with a good grade, but it was passing.

Even with these two difficult classes dropped, each day took a toll on me. A mountain of stress that just kept building, never getting smaller, no matter how much time and effort I put into it. I started to understand why all my friends hated school. I felt miserable all the time and was more and more tired each day. On top of all of this, I signed up to participate in the science fair. This was mostly to boost my grade in chemistry before I had dropped it, but I soon realized that doing this was going to be difficult. I tried my hardest to get together with people so I could complete my experiment, but nothing was working. I assumed it was just me and convinced myself I could do this on my own. Days crept by. Worry and dread built in me every passing day that I didn’t get anything done. Christmas Break felt like torture. Sure, I had a good time, but any time I wasn’t having fun and actively doing something, I felt that same gut horror that I was failing. But I didn’t know how to fix it. The day finally came, and I felt absolutely miserable. When I called my mom to tell her that I hadn’t had anything prepared and I simply hadn’t shown up, I could tell she was disappointed, more than that, but there simply isn’t a word that describes it. That was probably one of the worst moments of my life. When she got home, we had to have a serious conversation about trust. I didn’t know how to explain my thoughts. I didn’t really know why I had done any of it. I remembered choosing to put it off, and I remembered hating every second of it, but I didn’t know why I had put myself through all of it. Having the conversation did help lift some of the burden off my chest, but it still weighed heavily on me. I constantly doubted myself, wondering if I could accomplish anything at all. After the science fair debacle, my mom signed me up to talk to the mental health counselor at my school. At first, it was weird. I didn’t really know her, so opening up wasn’t easy. It took a long time for me to start to heal from that. I still think about it to this day, but it doesn’t cripple me like it once did. 

Time passed, and soon the year was over. I was able to bounce back, and I was ready for senior year.

I thought I was ready. I thought I knew how things were going to play out. But I didn’t. I still signed up for hard classes. And extracurriculars. And tennis. I didn’t even give it a second thought. The regret continues to play in my head. Looking back, I feel stupid for putting myself through all that. Why, when I know I have struggled in the past, would I sign up for two college classes, play tennis, and try something new? 

I have been really struggling with figuring out what I can do and how much I can take on. I think I know what I’m doing, and then, all the sudden, I’m drowning. There are five different assignments that I’ve procrastinated on, my whole afternoon is booked every day of the week, and I still haven’t started that project I signed up to do. I’m dreading it. It’s starting to look like junior year all over again. Like I never learn. I let things get out of hand. It’s all the same cycle. Except this time, it was with school, not an extra thing. And a college class on top of that. I was choosing to fail, and hated myself every second of it. Each day, I’d go into my English 1010 class with a few friends and see what was next. We would complain all the time about not understanding anything and how the teacher never really taught us at all. How was I supposed to make it every day to the next?

I was still talking to the mental health counselor, and she was probably my saving grace.  After letting things get totally out of hand once again, I knew what I needed to do. I needed to explain what was happening to my mom. I didn’t want to because I knew the way she’d react. “Abby, I don’t understand. Why?” And that’s the same thing I’d been asking myself. I didn’t know why. We scheduled a meeting, and I broke down. We talked through it. I felt totally ashamed, but we figured out something new to try. It’s been helping.

I forgot (again) that I can’t do everything by myself. I can ask for help. That’s not giving up.

I am still learning about myself and trying to practice asking for help, but as I’ve worked through my struggles, I’ve been able to learn resilience. I’ve been learning how to talk to friends and my parents and recovering little by little. I know there will still be times when I don’t feel like myself, when I’ll want to give up. There will always be times like that. But the difference is this: that now I know what to do when I feel like giving up. It’s not to ignore, it’s not to sit and cry, it’s to step out and ask for help. Because we can’t do everything by ourselves. And that’s normal. That’s okay. What’s not okay is to suffer in silence when there are people right there with you who want to help.