The end of a semester marks a time of reflection. I review my grade performance, emotional stability, and major pivots in my life. Three and a half months of intense academic expectations and personal ups and downs drain my energy levels. Usually, my reflections do not uncover any dramatically new personal characteristics or life changes, but this semester it did.
Many people cite their college experience as four (or more) years of nonstop fun and excitement. A never-ending roller coaster of friends, parties, and decent course loads.
My first two years of college were a time of intense change and unhappy memories of feeling awkward, listless, and not good enough. I was home any weekend I could sneak away and I would sink into sadness when I had to return to campus. I rarely found comfort in “normal” college festivities.
The party scene was not my forte. The idea of binge drinking cheap alcohol every weekend or a new walk of shame every night created distaste in my mouth. Let’s pause the story. I do not believe in slut shaming or body shaming or judging anyone for their personal choices. My personal philosophy is if it doesn’t infringe on anyone else’s choices or cause harm to anyone, then I have no problem with it. But, personally, those are not life choices I could make.
College is portrayed as a nonstop hook up and drug extravaganza. But, it’s so much more. It’s a place of great memories and deep talks with the girls (or the boys). It’s a time of break ups and even messier make ups. It’s a time of growth, pain, pleasure, stress, carefreeness, and maturity.
It took me awhile to fall for college. I had to put myself out there, take risks, and join organizations outside of my tight comfort zone. I met people that changed my life and I lost people that kept me from living it in the first place.
I opened myself up to change. And when I did, I fell so deeply.
