It's 10 p.m., you find yourself frantically flipping through the pages of your accounting textbook, desperately looking for some sort of guidance on how to log adjusting entries into t-accounts. You're calling your dad (who knows nothing about accounting), messaging every GroupMe you're in, emailing your professor in a frenzy, knowing full well there's nothing she can do to help you via email in the two hours before the assignment is due. You manage to pull some answers out of thin air, you click "submit for grading," slam your laptop shut and audibly sigh.

Thank God that's over.

Then you remember that it's only the fourth week of school. This is but the beginning of a semester that will consist of challenge after challenge, stressful assignment after stressful assignment, emotional breakdown after emotional breakdown.

But why? To what end?

I am essentially the poster child for the "It's OK To Change Or Not Know Your Major" spiel they give freshmen in their first year of school. Hell, I give freshmen that spiel. I remind them that not knowing exactly what you want to do with your life is not something to be ashamed of. That even if you think you know just what you want to major in or pursue after graduation, your interests, passions and strengths are likely to change a lot over the course of four years. I reiterate that your major shouldn't have to limit you, either -- that options post-graduation are endless, regardless of your selected undergraduate course load. And I fully and wholeheartedly believe all of those statements; they're not BS, they're really true.

Yet here I am, panicking halfway through undergrad because I don't know what the hell I am doing in my major. Quite literally, I feel lost.

I consider myself to be fairly creative, in touch with my emotions, passionate about working with others and interested in leadership. I've been fortunate to incorporate these characteristics and interests into my participation in student organizations and extra-curricular activities. These "hobbies" and groups, participating in these things I'm so passionate about, bring me more joy than I can put into words. I look forward to rehearsals, meetings and events. Even when my planner is full, my stress level is high and I'm feeling unmotivated, I look forward to those things.

But when I look outside of those organizations and commitments, I don't feel fulfilled. I don't feel the satisfaction and exhilaration of finally grasping a business statistics problem. I don't get a rush of adrenaline when the pieces of an accounting puzzle ultimately click. I don't look forward to my classes. I love learning, I love a challenge, I even adore some of my professors. But I don't feel fulfilled by my major.

I know what you're thinking. "This girl is wildly naïve if she expects every single one of her college courses to be a walk in the park-- easy, fun and exciting." But I'll stop you right there. I don't expect that at all, nor do I want that. I love a challenge. I love being pushed to my limits and impressing myself with how much I can accomplish when I really put my mind to it. But I also know that, even for those who adore their major and are 100 percent, unwaveringly confident in their projected career path, not every class will be their favorite class. Not every assignment, textbook passage, late night spent in the library or less-than-impressive exam grade will give an adrenaline rush.

And maybe my standards or expectations are too high, or maybe I'm too emotional of a person to commit to doing something I'm less than passionate about. I don't know. But I know that if I continue to lock myself within the confines of courses and content and activities that I don't love, I'll absolutely lose it.

Am I going to change my major as a junior in college (with full intentions of graduating on time)? No. Am I OK with that? Yes.

I think I've just finally realized that the things that fill me up -- music, building relationships, mentoring, travel, leading, utilizing my creativity -- are things I simply can't live without. To make my world devoid of these passions and interests would ruin me.

I spoke with a friend on the topic of quarter-life-crises and she let out of sigh of relief to learn that she was not the only one who felt stuck in her major and the expectations that ride alongside being a four-year undergraduate student in the south. Maybe getting a degree, moving to Atlanta/Greenville/Charlotte, getting married within four years of graduating and starting a family by the age of 26 isn’t in the cards for her. I doubt it is for me, either.

My quarter-life crisis is teaching me the importance of being flexible, kind to myself and curious. Just because I don’t know what I want to do after graduation, where I want to live, what job I’d like to have, or who I plan to marry, doesn’t mean I’m destined to crash and burn. Perhaps I learned more about myself in the desperation of a difficult accounting assignment than I (or my professor) ever intended. Maybe all it took was a few days in a row of tearful calls home to make me realize that my major doesn’t have to limit me. Maybe a blissfully innocent night of good conversation and incredible friends served as the perfect reminder that, regardless of what expectations are put on you, there is still so much value in the things you inherently and genuinely just love.