Just like that, we are suddenly uprooted from a place we can finally call home. A place where there are essentially no rules, no one telling us what to do on a daily basis (that's right mom, I can order Jimmy Johns every night this week at 3 a.m. if I feel like it) and endless possibilities when it comes to deciding what to do for fun. Many of us are now home for the summer in the small towns we spent the majority of our young lives inhabiting. There are the few lucky ones who hail from big cities and will never understand the struggle of a 17,000 person community like my own, but if you do come from a suburbia similarly sized to mine, then you know the struggle is real. You will come to learn, as I am currently, that there are five stages of being a college student home for the summer in a Whoville-sized, boring-as-boring-gets town:
1. Disbelief/Denial
You still have a mild case of PTSD from finals and haven't quite processed that you're home for three to four months in a place you haven't seen in awhile but which you remember all too well: your hometown. Your body and mind, physically and emotionally drained from finals enter into hibernation mode for approximately 72 hours. You don't remember for the few minutes after you awaken from your deep slumber that you are no longer perched in your lofted bed in the dorms. And then it hits...
2. Anger
"Why did I come back to this place? Why did they make me come back? My town sucks. This is so unfair. They can't expect me to stay here all summer. There are no bars for people below forty-five, my friends live so far away, oh and my high school curfew will most likely get reinstated. What am I supposed to do, hangout in the teen section of the public library? This is ridiculous. I can't do it."
3. Bargaining
You begin to bargain with your parents about next summer. Even though things seem pretty set in stone right now, maybe you can spare yourself for the future. "Dear mom and dad: if I make enough money this summer, and get a 4.0 next year, can I just travel around Europe instead of coming back here again for a full three months? You don't understand. This is really important for my mental stability."
4. Depression
It's July and literally everyone is gone. Like everyone. You are cursing your family for not having at least a lake house or something. Your dog is slowly becoming your only friend. You haven't left your bed for four days and Netflix even knows not to bother asking if you're still watching or not. Even the technology in my life knows how pathetic you feel. You ponder: "Maybe I'll just eat and sleep for the rest of my existence".
5. Acceptance/Hope
And after letting each stage run it's given course, things begin to look up for you and your extreme boredom and self-pity begin to lessen. "You know what, I can actually deal with this 'my mom doing my laundry and making me lunch thing.' My body feels pretty cleansed. I should start doing hot yoga or something. I'll just workout all summer and look really good for the fall. Yeah that's a good idea. I think I'll be okay- maybe there's hope for me yet here."
