Like most seniors, I spent my final year of high school fantasizing about college. The distance, the freedom, the opportunities all seemed so perfect. When the daily, generic question of, “Are you excited for college?” was asked, I would always reply that I was so excited and couldn't wait. Not only was I going to the college of my dreams, I was also going to be playing the sports that I loved: basketball and track and field. Everything was perfect.
But life has a funny way of keeping people humble. As the end of summer neared, the realization hit me. This was it. In my philosophic and very dramatic way of thinking, I struggled with the idea that life would never be the same again. One week before I left for college the anxiety became severe and I had nightly panic attacks. I would run to my sister’s room hyperventilating while confessing my fears which ranged from no one liking me to being the victim of a mass shooting. I was a mess. I was falling apart.
When my parents dropped me off at college, I remember feeling my throat tightening as they said their goodbyes. I didn’t want to cry in front of my new classmates, but more than that, I didn’t want my parents to worry about me. I finally allowed myself to breakdown when I took a shower that night. I knew no one would be able to hear me cry with the water running.
Apart from that initial night, my first days at college went well. I felt good. Frankly, I was embarrassed for being so scared before because college seemed like a breeze. As the one-week milestone approached, my high came crashing down. I couldn’t even talk about home without tearing up and every conversation with my parents began and ended with me in tears. At night I would either cry silently to myself or go to a party to try and forget that I was hurting. Neither helped much.
Around mid-September I began talking to counselors who told me what I was feeling was “very normal.” While not necessarily the help I thought I needed, it was somewhat comforting to know that I was not suffering alone.
Each week got a little easier. My parents made it a point to visit me and I lived for the two-day increments I could spend with them. I became busier and, therefore, didn’t have time to think about home or what I was missing. Soon, I was overwhelmed with classes, sports, and clubs. Always one to stay busy in high school, my demanding schedule felt familiar. The sadness was still there sometimes, but it was more of an afterthought. I was no longer paralyzed by it.
I didn’t truly feel “OK” until mid-November. There wasn’t an epiphany or an ah-ha moment, I just began to realize that everything would be fine. I started to genuinely enjoy college and the opportunities I was given.
Looking back, I thought I would be able to create a checklist on how to transition easily into college however, it’s not possible. There is no magic potion, no shortcuts, no cure. The transition into college is difficult. I was always independent in high school, but that meant nothing in college because everything changes. It’s not easy. It sucks. But it’s life, and I am so much stronger because of it.
