I'm living in Ghana because I failed.

Last August, I signed a year lease on a beautiful, old home with all intentions of making it through the contract. I’d never committed to living in one place for such a long period of time. To me, a year seems like an eternity. Since graduating high school, I can’t remember the last time I’ve lived in one city for an entire year. Always bouncing around to the next opportunity seems natural and second nature, but something about  Bellingham made me think I could make it through. I only had a year or so left before graduating school, so it seemed logical to stick around until I got my degree. My life was planned out — I would major in journalism and minor in internet resource and content management, and then move back to Los Angeles. 

My newsroom desk. 

A few months ago, I was living a stressed, but comfortable, life. I loved my house. I loved my roommates. I loved my job at the downtown vintage clothing store. I loved being the features editor for the school newspaper, where the newsroom staff quickly became a second family. Life was busy, school was demanding, but everything was alright. I had no intentions of leaving my little town that was slowly turning into a home.

New Years Eve Shenanigans // Master of Party Games

Ghana was not in my near or considerable future.  

I’ve always done well in school, but there was one class during my winter quarter that I couldn’t handle. (I’ve now realized 8 a.m. classes are not for me.) I needed it for my minor, but I had fallen too far behind in the course to pass. After staring blankly at my Scantron sheet the day of the midterm, I decided it would be best to drop the class. I don’t quit classes, ever. I was upset with myself, my procrastination and lack of time management, but I was even more upset that this meant I might have to spend more time at school. I failed. I wanted my degrees and I wanted them now. I couldn’t stomach the idea of enrolling in another quarter because of one little dropped class. 

After venting to my adviser and mulling over possibilities of a new minor, she mentioned something I had never thought about before — studying abroad. A quarter in another country gives you enough credits to count as a minor, but I didn’t want to enroll in the traditional study abroad route. 

At that moment, I remembered Della. A couple of my friends back in LA worked there, and it seemed like I could hack my education and count a quarter in Ghana for school credit.  

I texted Sequoia, my friend who works on the LA side of Della, and asked her opinion. Within minutes, I was handed over to Tina, the founder, and was encouraged to apply. Before the day was finished, my application was sent. The idea of packing up and leaving again excited me. I was beginning to like Bellingham, but the idea of moving again was all I could think about. Turns out, I can’t seem to shake this wanderlust. 

Long story short, I was accepted for a position in Ghana, but the university wouldn’t swing it for school credit at the time. I had a difficult decision to make. Do I turn down Della and continue working towards my degree, or do I take more time off school and take this opportunity? After many frantic phone calls with my mom, she assured me school would always be there, and Ghana was an experience I needed to seize. I’m thankful to have such a strong, supportive mom, who allows me to go and do and see and live. 

It took a few days to decide, but I accepted the offer, gave everything I own to Value Village, quit my job and bought my plane ticket.

And now, I’m here. 

Ghana wouldn’t have even been an option if I didn’t fail that class and start scrambling for another opportunity. Because of that, Della landed in my lap, and I wouldn’t trade this time in my life for the world. 

I thought failing that class was the end of the world, but it turned out to be just the catalyst I needed to become a part of something meaningful again. 

Maybe some things do happen for a reason.