My freshman year of college, I decided to rush for a sorority. Well, it wasn't completely my decision. But growing up, my mom would tell me stories about her days in Chi Omega, and I always figured that would be me someday. I'd have the sisters and the chants and the owl-themed jewelry. Maybe not that last thing. When I got to college, my family strongly encouraged me to rush. Despite having some reservations, it felt like something I was born to do.

So Labor Day weekend, while all the other freshmen packed their bags and went home, I picked something teal to wear and began the rush process. I made it past Round 1 and got invited back to three sororities for round two. Three! Even better, one of them was Chi Omega, my mom's sorority! After four days of waiting and talking then waiting some more, I was getting close. I began to think about which sorority would bid on me, which girls might be my future sisters.

And then Monday morning right before round three, I got cut.

Getting cut was always on my mind, especially at the start of rush. However, as I got further into the process and connected with more of the girls, it became more of an abstract idea. Some girls would get cut, but those girls wouldn't be me. Right? Obviously, I was wrong, but at the time getting cut left me with a storm of feelings.

The short version? It sucked. A lot.

In fact, it sucked so much that I lied about getting cut. I told everyone I had simply decided to drop out halfway through rush, too embarrassed to reveal the phone call I got at 7:30 a.m. The only people who knew the truth were my parents.

I remember the phone call with eerie clarity. I knew we had to be at the final round of rush at 8 a.m., and I was stressing because I wasn't a morning person. I'd laid out the dress I was wearing for tomorrow, along with all my makeup, my shoes, my hairbrush, and deodorant. I even went to bed early (for a college student, at least). I woke up that morning, surprisingly rejuvenated. I washed my face, got back to my room, and reached for my dress.

Then my phone rang.

A flurry of thoughts raced through my head. Maybe it's a wrong number. Maybe the round got pushed back to a different time. But at the back of my mind, I remembered what the Gamma Chis had told us: if none of the sororities wanted you back for round three, you would get a phone call.

What my Gamma Chi said to me is a haze of halfhearted condolences. What I took away from the conversation was this: they didn't want you. "They" was no one specific, just the mass of faces from the three sororities. I got up, put myself out there, and got chucked back like a shoe that didn't fit. It was a degrading experience.

My mom was in a sorority. My cousin was in a sorority. Even my grandmother was in a sorority. And then there was me. Why had I become the odd one out? Was I too weird? Was I too bland? Did I talk too much? Did I not talk enough?

I will never know what aspect of my personality didn't get me a bid. I don't want to know either. As a freshman with only a few semi-friends at the time, getting cut was the end of my world. I had to start all over again, find a new group of friends, and the prospect terrified me. They don't offer rush reject support groups at college. I was on my own.

I'm now a sophomore, and I've been so hesitant about sharing my story. Because even though it's been over a year, I'm still a little embarrassed. I still wonder what would have happened if I'd worn a different dress or put on more makeup. I cannot emphasize how humiliating getting cut feels; any girl who's been through the same thing knows what I'm talking about.

But that's exactly why I decided to share my story. For the girls who got cut and feel like they can't talk about it.

These are some of the things I've done since freshman year:

• Worked at a haunted trail as a zombie
• Volunteered at the sickest film festival in North Carolina
• Got a boyfriend
• Dumped said boyfriend
• Studied abroad in Scotland
• Acted in a play with a cast that became a second family to me
• Written a one-act play and seen it performed onstage

Could I have done all that if I was in a sorority? Maybe. Maybe not. Greek life is a choice, and I chose to pursue my own path. I wish I could go back to the girl from Labor Day weekend sitting at the fountain and crying her eyes out. I wish I could tell in her less than a year, she would find her people. And not because she shared a sorority with them.

Greek letters (or my lack of) will never define me. And I'm okay with that. I am and will always be a rush reject. But I'm also a writer, an actress, an improviser, a daydreamer, and those roles will always be more important to me than something I did one weekend freshman year of college.

I don't hold any grudges against the sororities who decided to cut me, or the girls in them. And I say this to any girl who's experienced what I have: this is not the end. You are going to do so many amazing and different things that will blow your mind. More importantly, you are going to find your people. All you have to do is look.