August 23
Move-in day — I had dreamt about it for months! I savored every second of decorating and organizing my new "home" knowing what would inevitably follow. The "final goodbye" transpired, and with that came the harsh realization of being 1,864 miles away. I was left sobbing, sitting on the curb where I was forced to tear free from a seemingly unbreakable and everlasting hug between me and my mom. Southern California really did not seem that far away, and yet, I felt as if I was abruptly abandoned when I expected to feel happy, free and home. I lethargically slunk back to my room and crawled into bed where I continued to weep until I became physically and emotionally drained.
Welcome Week
The pain and emptiness still lingered. Fortunately, I was forced out of bed and begrudgingly attended all of the supposedly "fun" and "spirited" activities put on by Miami University. Remarkably, the commotion and enthusiasm from Welcome Week did not come close to penetrating my thick foundation of gloom and heartache.
I was continuously advised that my peers and I were all in the same boat of raging emotions.
I couldn't help but wonder if anyone was legitimately dealing with as much mental instability and pain as I was. My new friends appeared to bounce back and acclimate quickly. The same friends looked at me strangely when I confessed that I remained unable to call my mom. Knowing what she wanted and needed to hear from me, I felt compelled to award her the illusion that I was happy, settled and alright. I could not lie to her, but I wrestled with the idea that exposing the truth affirmed that I was not OK.
Monday, August 27
First day of class, but not for me. I should probably clarify that I intentionally registered for zero Monday classes, and 8 a.m. classes Tuesday through Friday. This layout ensured that Friday afternoon through Monday was fair game to get home for a weekend in SoCal. Perhaps this was the first warning sign and in hindsight may have been my subtle way of foreseeing the rough and rocky adjustment. Regardless, I have no shame in admitting that my schedule served as a personal safety blanket.
The generous amount of free time on this particular Monday drove me to conclude that it was alright to call my mom and that I needed to go home for a weekend.
August 28: Calling My Mom
Me: "Mom, I really want to come home."
Mom: "Do you think that this is a smart decision…?"
Me: *Quietly thinking as my eyes begin to well up with tears*
Mom: "Baby, if this is what you need we will make it happen. Dad and I looked at flights and they are now $800, so please be sure that this is what you want."
Me: "I need some time to think about it."
Mom: "Sleep on it, and let's talk about it tomorrow."
Me: "OK, I love and miss you."
August 29
Me: "Mom, I really just need to come home."
Mom: "OK, I will book the flights right now."
Me: *Three deep breaths and a sigh of relief.*
September 7: Traveling Home
After boarding my first flight, I instantly knew that I had made the right decision. Nine hours later, I finally landed. I was home. I stepped outside, looked up at the beautiful blue sky and reconnected with the familiar and perfect row of palm trees outlining the perimeter of the airport. Being home translated to the ability to take a second set of deep breaths and a much larger sigh of relief. I spent the weekend surrounded by family and friends. It was exactly what I needed.
September 10: Journey Back To School
To be transparent, I was not particularly eager to get back to school. My return was mainly incentivized by excitement towards correcting several peers who advised me that going home would only make matters worse. Nowadays individuals are comfortable handing out pieces of unsolicited of advice — freshmen know this too well. Because I didn't particularly find the approach helpful, I feel like it would be hypocritical to do the same.
There is never one clear path. This is my personal takeaway:
After dreaming of a magical transition, I was thrust into reality. My experiences failed to align with my expectations. Some navigate changes seamlessly, while others, like myself, quickly note difficulty. Large life changes demand adjustment, for me, going home for the weekend gave my body and mind the time and space to digest my feelings. Ultimately, I conquered my homesickness by taking ownership and bravely accepting that it was OK to not be OK.
