Choosing a college is a decision that nowadays is chalked up to around the same level as picking a name for your child; everyone has an opinion and everyone hopes that you pick their suggestion. When I was picking a college, I was constantly bombarded with different suggestions and concern of why I wanted to go out of state.

After I took almost everyone’s opinion to heart, I narrowed my applications to nine schools, with only three in state. The only person who knew what school I wanted to get into most was my mom, in hopes I didn’t jinx my luck. The weeks waiting to hear about which schools I was accepted to was gut-wrenching and nerve-wracking. I found myself checking my application status at least five times a day, and running to my mailbox every day after school. Unfortunately, I did not get accepted to my top school or my number two school. I narrowed it down to two schools that I did get accepted to, which was more or less my mom forcing me to look at one, when I already wanted to go to another.

I first visited the school I wanted to attend, which was in Texas. I fell in love right when I stepped on campus because I felt the school had everything I wanted in a college; small, private, Greek life and football. I was ready to sign my acceptance letter to attend before I even made it on the plane back home. My mom had another idea and forced me to go visit Gonzaga, basically against my will. I had no desire to go to school in Washington and wasn’t thrilled about going to a Catholic school for another four years. I wasn’t familiar with Gonzaga at all, and even though it is only a two-hour plane ride away, I thought I might as well have been visiting a foreign country.

I remember waking up the morning of my tour and dreading walking around in the gray weather outside my window. As I walked toward the tour meeting spot, there was no denying how beautiful the campus was. Brick seemed to be a dominant feature, along with a variety of vegetation. Even with all of its beauty, I still did not want to walk around and try and act interested, when I felt I had left my heart in Texas. As the tour began, I was observing but still felt my mind wander to warmer and sunnier places. After my tour ended and my mom asked me how I felt about GU, all I could do was muster a shrug. She left me to go think about what school I decided to attend and on a whim, I ended up choosing Gonzaga. All the pros weighed toward Gonzaga such as closer to home, cheaper and a more prestigious university. When I told my mom, tears sprang to her eyes, and even though I knew I had made the right choice, I wasn’t happy with being a Zag.

As the summer came to a close, I felt my imminent journey to Spokane as a chore with no reward. My housing situation was dreary at best, and I wasn’t close with anyone attending GU from my high school. I felt alone and like I had made the wrong decision. As the semester continued, I wasn’t feeling a part of this community that every person at Gonzaga seemed to be enthralled with. My classes seemed boring, and I missed my friends and family back home. Along with strong pulls of homesickness, the overwhelming amount of freedom was dangerous and expensive. I felt myself slipping into a dark void of despair that I had no idea how to escape.

However, it was one moment that opened my eyes. There is that one place on every campus that ties a community together. For some, it is a large student center or the cheering section of a massive football stadium. On Gonzaga’s campus, it is by far the Kennel. The Kennel is loud, full of high energy and a nirvana for basketball fans. The high intensity was something I felt at home in because I lean more toward high energy and spirit. The first notes of Zombie Nation soared through me, and I felt excitement rush through my veins, stronger than that cup of morning coffee. As I looked around and saw myself engulfed in a sea of red, I realized a vital concept I was missing.

Everyone struggles in finding their place in a new environment, and some are just better at concealing it than others. If I kept feeling sorry for myself and allowed myself to fall into FOMO, nothing would get better and change. So as the crowd began chanting louder and louder, I felt myself feeling happier than I had in months.

After that moment in the Kennel, things started to look sunnier, even though the weather got uglier. I started making strong friendships and realized how magical the power of FaceTime could be for a cure to homesickness. I felt myself getting my heart back from Texas and planting itself back where it belonged, which was in Spokane at a little university named Gonzaga.

Today, I’m forever grateful that my mom forced me to visit the rainy, sometimes dreary, PNW. I wake up every morning and go to sleep every night understanding that Gonzaga was the best choice, even though it wasn’t near my top choice.

The friendships I have built, the relationships I have created with my professors and the bond I have with my community are things I understand will be life-long and prosperous. My friends are slowly becoming a second family and the support system I never knew I needed.

The Kennel continues to be in my eyes the beating heart of Gonzaga’s campus and a unifying place that helps people find their place, just as it did for me.