Salida, California.

Dixon, California.

Fountain Hills, Arizona.

Rogue River, Oregon.

La Plume, Pennsylvania.

These are all places that I have lived, with the current situation being me spending eight months in Pennsylvania, and four months in Oregon every year. Everyone who knows me, knows my story about why I’m going to school so far away from where my family lives, but I don’t want to go into that now. What I want to talk about is how it feels, and how it has affected me to be so far away from the people and places that raised me for the first two decades of my life.

I was a pretty quiet kid when I was younger. I didn’t have a lot of friends, and spent quite a bit of time at home. I spent my time often watching TV, movies, and playing video games to the chagrin of my mother at times. I don’t blame her for feeling that way, I know that every parent wants their child to be out and about, adventurous and making themselves a part of the world. But due to this time often spent at home, my relationship with my parents soon developed into a rather good one, with me feeling free to talk to them about several things in my life. Friction was there, of course. Who doesn’t have friction with their parents? But things were well. My brother and sister are older than me by a good margin, and though we always loved each other, I never fully clicked with them until I was older. Probably around 17 or 18 is when I really started to hit it off with them, and have the kind of relationship I have with them now.

When I first was accepted to Keystone College was when it suddenly felt so real about how far away I was going. 2,338 miles to be exact. I started to panic. How can I go so far away from home? When will I be able to see my family? What if there’s an emergency? I pushed these thoughts down as I prepared for the big move, and it wasn’t until I saw my dad driving away from Moffat Hall that it all came back at once.

I cried.

I had made a mistake, I knew it. What was I going to do now? I was way too far into this now to back out, plus what would everyone think of me if I did? So I gritted my teeth and did my best to hide how I felt.

But, as I lived my new life on this opposite side of the country, I started to change. I became more active in the community on campus, I went out and participated, I started working quite a bit. Being so far away from my safety net forced me to learn how to be independent quickly, otherwise I was going to crack quickly.

I also felt a part of me changing. I saw other students around me who would go home almost every weekend to do their laundry and have a home cooked meal. I saw people who called home every night to talk with their parents, to complain about their day and their classes, and to have that reassuring pat on the back. And I did call home occasionally, but I could feel that separation forming. I loved my family, but I didn’t need them to hold my hand.

I spent my first Thanksgiving alone.

There was no way my parents nor I could swing a flight home for me for the Thanksgiving break, especially with the issues that we had going on back there. So came the Thanksgiving that I spent by myself in the Residence Hall, alone, making my own food and taking care of myself with the snow outside.

More than two years from the day I first moved into college, anyone who has known me before that time can definitely tell that I have changed. I’ve become a more confident person, less willing to just standback and let things happen to me. I put myself out there, and have come to crave that independence that I get from being able to run my own life.

Now I’m obviously not fully independent, and I have had my family’s help with a lot of things in my college life. My parents help me pay for my tuition, and they have helped more than once with the occasional bill that I wasn’t able to make. For me, dependence like this cannot just be severed all at once. It is a process of letting yourself grow and take over your life. Learn to figure things out on your own instead of depending on people telling you what to do. There’s nothing wrong with asking for help when you need it, but you have to do things for yourself as well.

Being so far away from home has been hard for not only me, but my family as well. I know they miss me, they’ve told me so. And those times when I’ve felt like I really needed to talk to them, a three hour time difference makes things hard. There are a lot of benefits to being so far away, but also hardships. You have to be willing to face those struggles.

I heartily recommend going far away from home to everyone. It will really help you become the person you want to be in life, and you will grow and change. It is hard, but go out there, and explore as much as you can.