Two years ago, my best friend and I visited Boston, looking at colleges. We looked at Boston University and Boston College, walked through Harvard Yard, and drove past MIT. Those couple of days, I fell in love with the city. Everything about it seemed perfect to me and the thought of going to school in Boston both excited and terrified me. I didn't want to leave my home in Michigan, my friends; everything I've ever known. Still, walking around in Harvard Square with my best friend, I couldn’t help but think that nothing in Michigan could match the beauty, or excitement, that I would be surrounded by in Boston if I went to school there. Flash forward two years and I’m sitting on my couch, done with my first year of college. Although I didn’t go to Boston University, Harvard, MIT, or Boston College, I did decide to go to college in Boston — and it was the best choice I’ve ever made — but it was also the hardest transition I've ever gone through.
I knew going into this that I would miss home a lot: I've always had a very close relationship with both my parents and my brother; my friends from home mean the world to me. I had always had separation anxiety from my parents and going to college and being on my own didn't change that. In fact, it was the opposite.
The day I left Michigan for my new adventure was the second hardest day of my life; the first was three days later, when I stood on the sidewalk and watched my parents drive away knowing I wouldn't see them for four months. The first couple weeks, I cried everyday. I mean, I literally cried every single day. The first couple of months were not much different. I talked to my parents every night; many times talking about how badly I missed home, how I thought I made a mistake, how I didn't belong in Simmons, in Boston. I texted my friends from home constantly and spent many late nights crying and reminiscing with them about all our memories. I felt guilty for being as homesick as I was. College is supposed to be the time of your life, so I didn't understand why all I wanted to do was go home.
It wasn't until I went to my school's Counseling Center and talked with a therapist that I realized my feelings were valid, and that many people go through the same thing. She told me it was normal to miss home; everyone does, but she reassured me that through friendships and branching out, I would learn to manage my homesickness and love my new home. It made me feel better, knowing I was not alone in my loneliness and over the next few months, I realized she was right. I made a lot of new friends, and together we explored almost every corner of the city. I learned to love my new home — in spite of the homesickness and doubt I first felt.
Now, with the first year of college completed, I am back at home in Michigan reflecting. The homesickness never went away. Coming back after every break was hard and I missed my family, friends, and home immensely everyday, but the loneliness and isolation I had originally felt has gone away. Although it has been hard, I wouldn't change the last year for anything.
