I’ve learned a lot in college. I’ve learned how to properly use a planner (and to actually use a planner). I’ve learned how to write a news story. I’ve learned the importance of time management and the slight unimportance of binge watching YouTube videos when there are papers to be written. I’ve learned about the history of the feminist movements. I’ve learned that cooking for one person is not ideal, and that sometimes sorrows can be treated with a hefty bowl of cereal. I’ve learned from the price of my textbooks that they believe they should be lined with gold and put in a museum.
As I finish my final semester of college, however, I’ve come to realize that I have learned something even more important than all of that: I’ve learned to love myself.
People say that you “find yourself” in college, and while I’m not one to dote on expressions, this one rings true for me. I found myself when I stood by the wall at parties. I found myself when I was alone in my room. I found myself when I was lonely, when I was stressed, and when I was bursting with happiness. I found myself when I was missing home and when I was in the blissful company of my best friends. I found myself as I broke a sweat dancing around my room to Destiny’s Child and One Direction. I found myself even though I wasn’t really looking.
As a freshman, I thought I was who I was supposed to be. I wore the trendy clothes, I acted the way people wanted me to act, and I didn’t challenge myself. It was during this year that I found out how lost I really was. I didn’t want to be in school and I felt so out of place, so directionless, and so insignificant. The person I presented myself as wasn’t genuine and I felt a tiny part of me trying to claw its way out of the robot-like persona I was projecting.
My sophomore year was one of overcoming my self-doubts and internal criticisms. Everyday I had to train myself to look in the mirror and not automatically see the bad. I fought to find the good parts of me, both outward and inward. I stopped pretending that I knew what I was doing with my life and I welcomed the uncertainty. I wasn’t happy with the past me, because the past me was doing more for everyone else than she was doing for herself. She didn’t appreciate herself; she didn’t love herself.
I learned how to be truly independent during my junior year. I was living on my own and spending copious amounts of alone time with myself. It was during those Saturday nights alone in my dorm room that I started to realize who I was, what I enjoyed, and what made me happy. As I scribbled into my journal and listened to angsty songs, I found pleasure in my vulnerability. I was learning how to be alone and how to take care of myself. I was learning what I wanted and what I deserved. I looked into the mirror and no longer saw a monster.
My senior year has been one of constant growth. I have become so comfortable in my skin and my mind that I no longer fear the glances of strangers—I no longer search for the approval of others (except for dogs, I'm always looking for their approval). I have learned that I am capable of so much, that I am weak at times and that that’s perfectly okay, that I have goals and aspirations that are not merely silly pipe dreams, and that I do not have to apologize for who I am.
Loving yourself comes in waves. It’s not an easy journey, and I’m not even sure if it’s one that will ever end. It’s a struggle, but it’s a struggle worth undergoing. Sometimes it’s a progression that you may not even notice; one day when you look back and compare it all, you'll notice that you can grow all on your own. You are capable of so much, you have room to grow, and you deserve to love yourself.
