Think about your life. Think about the steps you’ve taken to get to where you are now. You'll probably recall periods of time when you endured relocation, loss of identity, death of loved ones — to which all were only temporary. Life went on. Everything in this world is subject to change — where you live, who you love, what kind of paper towel brand you find to be the most economically-friendly. And it's this inevitable impermanence of life that's most terrifying.
Some people are good with change. I’m learning to cope with it as I experience more of it day by day, but there’s still part of me that takes a few weeks to feel comfortable getting into a routine every new semester. There's still part of me that dies a little inside every time my usual seat is taken in my favorite class. (You just don't do that — everyone knows the rules of unassigned assigned seats!)
As college students, we have it the worst because it only gets rockier from here. Right now, we have the perfect balance of freedom and limitation. We have enough responsibility where we're learning to take on various commitments, but we can still rely on our parents and professors for guidance. And there's still room to experiment. We can explore our interests and develop our personal and professional selves while surrounded by the security of our institution’s walls. When we fail, we do so with little consequence. No missing assignment will destroy us. No F is going to ruin our lives (we may want to drown our sorrows in Ben and Jerry's, but life goes on).
When we graduate, things will only become less stable. Most of us will go from job to job the first few years, others will continue on to grad school and quite a few will lose themselves once, twice, three times. Think of where we are now, in college, as being in a giant claw machine—but the ones that let you play until you win. Every time you fail to get your prize, you're let down sure, but then you get to try again.
That’s why it's so important for us hold on tight to what hasn’t changed when we’re encountering this scary time of transition, the time when we're starting to feel around (somewhat blindly) in order to establish ourselves. For me, this means that I will forever count on the love and support of my parents and immediate family. It’s the love I know I'll always receive from my twin sister, my boyfriend, my friends I’ve had since we were pre-teens (yes, we survived the wrath of high school cliques against all odds) and those handful I’ve kept close to my side through college.
Our identities are always subject to change as well. I mean, personally, I'm grateful that I’m no longer the shy, orange-powder-faced, lover of the “Jonas Brothers” I was in my late middle school years. And I’m sure as hell happy I’ve traded in the camo-print capris I wore in the fourth and fifth grades for normal pants. But one thing that hasn’t changed for a long, long time is my height. I can always count on the fact that I'll be one of the shortest people in the room. It’s super.
There’s one ring I always wear on my right pointer finger. It’s the first ring I ever bought, and it has vine-like, rusted crystals surrounding a cut-out diamond-shaped center. It’s technically broken (I stepped on it one day with my snow boots), but it fits better this way. It's unique to me and there's a comfort in knowing it’s there.
And another thing — one of the most important things — for me is writing. Writing will forever be a constant in my life. It will be there when my world shifts without warning, when things end and start anew. Writing, to me, is something I have to do. Sure, I want to do it, but in order to feel like myself — my true self — I have to hear my nails typing on a keyboard or feel the harsh contrast of my joints pinched hard against the smoothness of a pen's tip gliding on paper. Writing, for me, will never be temporary.
So, here's the challenge: I challenge you to think about the parts of your world that have stayed the same. Write down everything you know you can count on because it will keep you grounded in times of instability. Think of morals of yours that have remained unchanged throughout the years, and think of people and places you know will forever bring you joy. Think of the little things, the big things and treasure these constants because life itself is so malleable. Even when it isn’t changing, it is. Life will only get crazier from here, and although that’s unbelievably frightening, you have to admit it’s the best part of living.
