I began this column in January of last year without a clue what I was doing.

I had no experience writing about LGBTQ issues — heck, I wasn’t even out yet. All I knew was that this was something I wanted to do, and I somehow convinced an entire editorial board to give me a chance to try.

When I first came to Mizzou, I was lost. I had come here for the journalism school, and I left everything I grew up with behind to do so. The new start was exciting. I knew I had the chance to become anyone I wanted to be, but our campus was huge, and I felt overwhelmed by all the opportunities it offered me. I stumbled my way around for awhile trying to make sense of who I was and where I wanted to go, and somehow that landed me in a TriCo meeting on a Wednesday night in October.

The hour I spent there was the first time I had been in the MU LGBTQ Resource Center, and it was enough for me to feel like I finally found a place where I belonged. I was quiet back then, and I’m sure many at the first meeting never remembered me being there. I never spoke up — I never even said a word beyond my name and my preferred pronouns — but I listened and absorbed a world that I desperately wanted to join.

I didn’t realize it then, but I was always a part of that community. The second I walked in the door, I was welcomed and accepted as one of its own. I never once had to explain why I was there, and that is something I will always be thankful for. That experience encouraged me to come back again and again until I realized I loved this community enough to want to write about them for the rest of my life.

I began in January with only that in mind, and I started writing hoping I would never have to stop. I grew as I wrote, and each column I did will always remind me of how far I have come from that time I felt lost in TriCo.

I knew then that I was not the most qualified to write this column; I still don’t think I am. My time on campus has shown me all the brilliant and talented people who should be writing this instead of me. They are the people I first met in TriCo, the small yet relentless bunch who showed up every Wednesday without fail. They are the students I got to know during my semester volunteering at the center, whose stories and struggles far outweighed my own. They are the kids my age, the seniors who are so close to graduating, who have spent their four years making our community the greatest it’s ever been and laying the foundation for it to become even greater. These are the people who have kept me writing, and any doubt I had about whether or not I was making a difference was quashed by the inspiration they gave me.

So here’s to you, Mizzou. Without all the beautiful things you’ve done for this community, my time writing this column wouldn’t have been as special as it has been. Without you, I may have given up my dream of making a career out of doing this a long time ago. Without watching the parades you’ve marched in, the walls you’ve stood in together, the courage you’ve taken to be out and proud and relentless in this fight, I would still be lost. Never give up, Tigers, and if you ever feel like it, look around and see all there is to be inspired by on our campus. Doing so changed my life, and I hope it can change yours too.