Learning how to cope is probably one of the most important things you'll learn in life. Coping with stress, emotions, insecurities, whatever it may be, everyone has to do it. Before college, I didn't have to cope with much. I was blessed with an easy and uneventful childhood, at least in my memory. My family went through a lot of ups and downs; I was raised by a single mom when my dad decided kids just weren't his thing. I'm sure this was hard on my mom and the rest of my family on both sides, but for me, I've only ever known a life without him. Not much trauma there.

Doing well in school was expected of me, and it wasn't hard. I studied my butt off freshman year before I realized I didn't really need to. I barely did homework, studied a couple hours before tests, and graduated with a 4.2 and top 10 percent of my class. I'm not trying to sound braggy; honestly at Vanderbilt, that's pretty average anyway. The point is that everything was always easy. Everything always turned out okay. Well, until it didn't.

Once I started college, everything about my life changed. I was in a city four hours away from home without my high school friends, family, or cats. Until you've been away from home for a long amount of time, you'll never truly understand the emptiness in your heart from missing your pets. Like most freshman, I signed up for, like, 15 clubs the first week, felt way overwhelmed, and dropped all of them except maybe 1 or 2 that I really liked. I got a job because if I wanted any spending money, I had to. I decided to skip the intro courses of chemistry and math, going straight into Organic Chemistry and Multivariable Calculus.

Back at home, my mom was struggling to take care of my grandparents on her own. My grandpa has always had so many health problems: arthritis that warped his hands, elbow and knees made of titanium because his bones were so weak, a defibrillator in his chest to restart his heart if it should ever stop (luckily it never did), and countless other medical conditions that required handfuls of pills everyday. Growing up, my grandpa was the only father figure I ever had, and the strongest man I knew. It killed me inside to see him in so much pain and with such poor quality of life, especially when I was four hours away and couldn't do anything to help. I'd never felt so helpless in my life, and I couldn't cope with that.

All of these things piled on top of each other sent my stress through the roof. I didn't know how to cope. I never let it show, but once I got back into my dorm room each night, I'd cry out of pure frustration. I didn't feel in control of anything. I was always working, always studying, but I never did well. It's the struggle that so many college freshmen face because nothing prepares you for it. I ended the semester semi-well, and put it in the past, ready to start in the spring. But I didn't know what was in store for me then.

I started the spring semester off well. I was getting better grades, I joined ADPi and met a lot of my wonderful sisters, and I could feel the stress just melting away. I thought, "Finally, this is my life again." Then, the unthinkable happened. While I was home for Spring Break, my grandpa died. Almost five months later, just typing those words brings tears to my eyes. In the back of my mind, I knew that this day would come, but I never thought it would be so soon. I still remember the phone call I got early that morning, my mom telling me that my uncle was coming to pick me up and bring me to the hospice. The nurse had just called her, and my grandpa had taken a turn for the worse. I refused to believe it, I told myself on the car ride over that the nurse was just being dramatic. I was there the night before, and my grandpa was talking, joking; he seemed to be himself. When we got there, my mom was sitting on his bed crying. He was alive, but unresponsive. My heart dropped into my stomach when I stepped through the door. I couldn't believe that the best and strongest man I've ever known was just lying there almost lifeless. We all gathered in the room, and I watched as the life left his body. What happened after that was a blur of commotion and activity. The funeral was two days later, and then I went back to school like nothing happened.

Denial set in, and even to this day I don't think I've accepted it. My grandpa and I had a special bond that no one could ever replace, and I truly think there will always be an empty space in my heart because of it. At school, I slowly started to feel like myself again, but I also was so far away from home that I didn’t have to deal with the reality of my loss. It was easier to cope emotionally, but my grades still suffered, and by the end of the semester, I was in exactly the same place as I was in the fall. I was disappointed in myself, but when I look back at my first year now, I realize that I went through a lot of really hard stuff and I came out the other side okay.

I learned a lot of lessons last year, mostly about what not to do, and I learned how to cope with everything that life throws at me. I went through it all and I’m a better person now because of it.