When people ask me about all the times I’ve moved – six or seven by this point – they generally seem to reach the same conclusion: “You must be used to it by now.”
Of course, I don’t blame them, as it’s arguably the logical conclusion. Shouldn’t someone that constantly has to introduce herself to a completely new class as the new kid be fairly comfortable in that role?
As it turns out, no. I’ve just moved 2,470 miles east of Pleasanton, California, where I’ve spent more time than in any other city. I’d genuinely thought that I’d be graduating there – that we’d finally found a permanent place to live, and that I’d keep all my friends throughout high school.
That happy picture was shattered a few weeks ago, and I’ve been in Georgia ever since. It’s been a jarring change, to say the least – I’ve started my senior year in high school with zero friends, clubs, or teams to speak of. It’s certainly led to a few Cady Heron “lunch-in-the-bathroom” moments. (Okay, not really, but I’m getting close.)
I know this was necessary and that I probably won’t be going back to California for years, if at all. And maybe I’ll come to terms with it soon, but right now I’d do almost anything to turn back time and spend my last few months in my old school making memories with friends, not moping about some boy or stressing over grades to the extent that I did. I don’t think I realized how much I had to smile about until a big part of it was taken away so abruptly.
(A quick afterthought: yes, I’m still incredibly lucky to be living in such an overall affluent country, with a healthy and generally happyfamily. I am grateful for these things – I probably could be a little more grateful – but it doesn’t detract from the loneliness I feel every day.)
Full disclosure: I haven’t been adjusting well so far. I get home from school and lie in bed most days, doing my best to wake up from what I hope is a dream. I want someone to tell me this has all been a giant practical joke – but it won’t happen.
I’m opening up about this overall unpleasant experience to hopefully encourage whoever’s reading this to appreciate the family, friends and connections they have today. These things can go so vastly under-appreciated, and I know I’d feel better if I could honestly say I enjoyed California as much as I possible.
And to the handful of friends and acquaintances I’ve made in Georgia, I want to sincerely thank you for taking a chance on the new kid – inviting me to eat lunch with you for a day, or waiting for me on the school bus. I appreciate your company more than I can express.
In fact, that’s probably another thing that would be great to take away from this: when you’re sitting in English talking and laughing with your friends, and a new kid awkwardly pops in, try to be friendly and include them in conversation. As a perpetual new student, I can tell you that most of us feel a lot more terrified than we look, and a friendly face can go a long way.
