Homesickness is a bitch. Those four words describe how I feel about being so far from my home to a T. From being born and raised in Southern California, to going all the way to Northern Kentucky for school, the transition definitely hasn’t been easy. I remember driving out to Kentucky in the middle of August two years ago with my dad. The entire way felt like it was just this huge weight on my shoulder. When I dropped him off at the airport when we finally made it to our destination, instead of that weight lifting off of my shoulders, it felt heavier. It had finally hit me that I was on my own. I couldn’t go home if I wanted to have a home-cooked meal, or free laundry, or wanted to just run around in our huge backyard with our dogs. Rather, I was stuck in an eight by ten foot dorm room, with no roommate, eating ramen that I made in a microwave. It sucked.
My first few weeks in Kentucky were pretty miserable. I would go to class and come back to my dorm. I hung out with a few people from my floor, but the thought of my friends back home having fun without me was too much to bear. So instead of going on midnight runs to Waffle House, or going out to frat parties, I would stay in my dorm, in my raggedy T-shirts from high school, hoping for my friends from home to FaceTime me, or for my parents to text me pictures of my dogs.
But this article isn’t to complain about how much my first semester away at school sucked. Rather, it’s to talk about why it’s okay to be homesick and embrace those feelings and not just push them off. Being 2,000 miles away from home was awful, yes. But it also was awesome for so many reasons. It forced me to get out of my comfort zone, which is something that a lot of the people I went to high school with can’t say. They all ended up (mostly) at the same two, private, Christian universities, taking classes with all the people that they had classes with in high school, and then still going home on the weekends, even though their college and hometowns were never more than a 45-minute drive away. In my experience, being an (at least) six-hour plane ride from my front door gave me the opportunity to branch out and learn more about myself. I tried new foods (God bless queso and Cane’s chicken), and met people from other cities, states, even countries. I became super close with the people on my floor, and I still cherish those friendships. I owe my sanity to the two girls who lived next door to me, who held me when I cried when my grandmother passed away and I couldn’t be there, who let me stay in their room when my psychotic roommate was there, and who made countless midnight Kroger runs with me in the middle of the night.
Homesickness sucks; there’s no doubt about it. But it made me appreciate my home so much more. Going home for the first time in four months that December made me cherish my family and friend’s so much more. It made me want to get out of my house and see new places, hike new trails, eat at new restaurants, and just in general try new things instead of sticking to my old routine. My homesickness helped to turn me into the young woman I am today, and even though sometimes I’ll find myself curled up on my couch in my apartment two years later crying about how much I miss my friends and family, I know I can call up countless people who live near me at school, who have become my family, and will help cheer me up at the drop of a hat.
Don’t let the thought of home keep you from missing out on all of the opportunities, potential friends and experiences that surround you in your present state. I promise, it’ll be worth it in the end.