I am no stranger to being let down by people that I had initially thought were some of my best friends. I'm sure that at one point or another, everyone experiences this, and usually we're told to not let it bother us too much. Obviously those people weren't your real friends, you deserve better, and so on and so forth.

I suppose it's a natural part of growing up- people change, you grow apart, ultimately losing friends isn't normally described as a very dramatic process. You either stay friends with someone, or you don't. Who knows- maybe in a few years you meet up again and pick up right where you left off. At least, that's how it was always described to me by adults when I was younger.

I'll be the first to admit that I am the worst at standing up for myself. I hate any sort of conflict, and I'd generally consider myself to be a very passive person. I suppose that has faded a bit over the years in that I hold my friends to higher standards than I did when I was in middle or high school.

When I was a teenager, it didn't matter how many times someone "forgot" to invite me to hang out on the weekend. I'd probably cry about it, and sure enough, I'd forgive my friends the very next day by making up excuses like, "Oh, they probably just thought I wouldn't have any fun," or "They knew I wasn't interested in seeing that movie anyways." I'd ultimately make them out to be a lot more considerate than they were. In actuality, I found that the majority of these people had little to no care for me or how I felt when I was excluded, but I continued to stay silent, hoping that the less I thought about it, the less it would upset me.

I suppose that these cumulative experiences made me hesitant to make friends when I started my first year of college. I noticed that some people had found their friends almost instantly and were comfortable with their groups even before fall orientation had wrapped up. Since I'd been scorned multiple times before, I was more dubious of dubbing anyone as my "best friend" and wasn't quite so convinced that the first people I met would continue to be my friends throughout my college years.

Luckily, I can say with confidence that I do still have a couple of friends that I met during my first week of college classes, but it wasn't until I joined my university's dance club, "Knight Club," that I really knew I had found my people. Even though I was shy, by the spring semester of my freshman year, I would walk into large rehearsals and even the seniors knew my name.

I never felt uncomfortable talking to the club's board members either because I knew that when I spoke I would be heard. Many of the club members even gave me the confidence to run for a position on the board which I was elected to at the end of my freshman year.

Even during my academic year abroad, when I would feel the sadness or "FOMO" creeping in, I found that I could rely on the kindness of the friends that I had made in Knight Club. They would send me videos, uplifting Snapchats, and I was even able to Skype with them a handful of times, so I didn't feel so far removed from the action on campus. Given my past experiences with less than stellar friendships and my natural worrying persona, I occasionally struggled to combat thoughts of, "no one really misses you," and "I guarantee it'll be so weird when you come back. Everything ran so smoothly without you!"

I even felt comfortable enough expressing these worries to my friends and was greeted with a chorus of responses that reassured me my perspective was off. They missed me as much as I was missing them and affirmed that all of my worrying was for naught. I would be welcomed back to the club with open arms.

I know that just given my natural tendency to worry, my friendship-based anxieties will never completely disappear. However, at least now I know that those anxieties are rooted in fiction rather than fact. I've been incredibly lucky to have been adopted into an incredibly welcoming club that has given me a safe space to be who I am and express my passion for dance. I am comforted by the fact that when I return from my year abroad, I will be able to return to a community of some of the best people I've ever had the privilege to call my friends.