I’m from Newton, a suburb right outside Boston, Massachusetts but moved to Bloomington to come to Wesleyan…here’s my story.
This was an average day of my life. I would wake up each morning, I would make a breakfast of fresh coffee and eggs, and I would make the 20-minute drive to my high school in Lexington. After classes, I would go to my extracurricular activities, like my rigorous ballet classes at the Boston Ballet, my singing lessons, or my church for choir practice or services. Then I would have dinner with my family, where we would catch up, tell each other about our day, and comfort one another when we talked about something difficult we were going through.
Autumn consisted of trees more beautiful than can be thought possible, their leaves gorgeous shades of gold and red made even more enjoyable by walks through Boston Commons. Besides traveling outside Boston, summers consisted of taking the two-hour drive to the lush, green New Hampshire and Vermont woods to go hiking and camping, or going to the Cape with my friends and eating fresh New England lobster rolls on the way to a Whale Watch. New York City is only a five-hour drive, Niagara Falls, a day trip. Massachusetts being one of the first states to have European settlers come to America in the 1500s, and where pretty much all the Revolutionary War happened, the area where my home is, is filled with so much rich history; the graves of our Founding Fathers, the Mayflower, Native American sites, the USS Constitution, the State House, Old North Church, Paul Revere, John Adams, Louisa May Alcott and Robert Frost’s houses, the Lexington Battle green, Harvard University, the list goes on. I was surrounded by people like me; outspoken, passionate, competitive, outgoing Bostonians who loved to throw on a Bergeron jersey after work and enjoy watching a Bruins game at one of the many Irish pubs in town, openly yelling and cheering at the screen when something exciting happened. Then in August of last year I took the five hour trip to Bloomington, Illinois and the moment I stepped off the airplane, my life instantly changed.
In just one day, I found myself in a place completely different from where I grew up; I was suddenly living in a small town, completely surrounded by Midwestern cornfields and strip malls 1,000 miles from my home. I do not speak about what I’m about to say in a tone of complaint or a way to gain pity, but the transition was a challenge. I was nowhere near my family or friends while having to adjust from being a high school student to a college student, and for the whole year my only mode of communication with my parents, the two people I love more than anything in the whole world, was over the phone. The people I met were nothing like the people I had grown up with back home. When I was in Boston, I would introduce myself to people at gatherings, parties, and sports games, and within a few minutes we would be talking to each other like we were best friends, openly and unashamedly having a friendly argument about a speech Elizabeth Warren had just made or commenting about the recent trade in Bruins players. Being loud, outgoing, energetic and opinionated are four characteristics that I had grown up around my whole life. Yet my fellow Bostonians were completely different from many of the people I met at IWU and in just a few days, the life I had lived for all my 18 years flipped upside down.
Although being a college student was exciting and I love IWU, the truth is there were many days where I was barely hanging on by a thread; sobbing over the phone with my parents and sister, missing my home so much I felt my heart would crack. Never being able to see my two best friends, Ellen and Camille. Waking up on Sundays and not being able to attend church and see the congregation that I love and admire so much. Even the jokes about me being a Bruins fan irritated me, the comments doing nothing but reminding me of how out of my comfort zone I was, how much I stuck out like a sore thumb. But I would force a smile, go to class and no one had any clue what was really happening inside me. I felt like there wasn’t a single person that truly understood how difficult that period of my life was.
As I said before, I’m not telling this story to get pity, I’m telling it because as hard as my first year was, I’m grateful for the challenge. I really do think the tears, frustration, embarrassments, homesickness, and everything else in between really did make me a stronger person. I now have an even better understanding of the power of cherishing life and its gifts, I truly see the importance of NEVER judging someone, because it’s impossible to fully understand what a person is facing in their life. I have become so much more in-tune with the person that I am and the person I want to become, and I am now closer to my faith than I have ever been in my whole life. The point of this article was to say this: being out of your comfort zone, taking risks, and challenging yourself is scary, but never let that fear stop you or change you from the person you are. It may bring tears, heartache, and frustration, but you will learn more than you have ever thought possible if you push yourself, swallow your fear, and stay true to the person you are because a smooth sea never made a skillful sailor.
