Stereotypes tell us that there are two types of people when it comes to selecting a college: There is the person who can’t bear to be anywhere but home, and there’s the person who can’t wait to move lightyears away. It turns out, however, that I don’t fit into either category. Or maybe, in fact, I actually fit into both.

I didn’t enter the college-selection process with any guidelines or expectations. The funny thing is, I actually grew up on a college campus, so I felt I didn’t have a lot to learn. When it came to location, I didn’t limit myself to only colleges in a certain mile radius. I actually started my search with a school in Virginia. That made people declare, “Oh, so you’re only looking at out-of-state schools.”

Well, no. Part of me dreamed of living in a new environment, tackling new adventures in a totally different part of the country. Being the youngest child, I never really felt real mature or much of an adult, and I admit I thought that going out-of-state would prove to my family that I was not a kid anymore.

But I also admit that my family was keeping me back home as well. Being the youngest (by a lot) meant that my sister was starting to have kids. I was embracing aunt-hood to the fullest extent, visiting my niece and nephews every day. I was their favorite person, and they were my favorite people. Going to college far away meant that I wouldn’t get to watch them grow up, or so I thought. I couldn’t just leave them.

But I did. At least geographically. I eventually decided on Hope College in Holland, Michigan. Seven hours away from my hometown, Hope was the only school I could see myself attending in the end. And yes, people would say, “Oh, so you want to go to school out of state.” To which I’d reply: I’m not going to an out-of-state school simply to leave. I don’t want to leave. This is just where I feel I’m supposed to go next.

And it was true. Hope was where I was meant to go, and it became obvious from the way it changed my life.

I once felt that moving far away would prove my strength to my family, but it really proved my strength myself. Homesickness, in the beginning, was agonizing. I would cry almost every morning, but I pushed through and eventually made Holland into a home. I joined a choir, a Bible Study, Nykerk (It’s a Hope thing), and a mission team. I tried out for Worship team and didn’t get picked, and I applied for jobs I didn’t get, but I did it. I even set up an internship for the summer. I came home feeling more confident than ever before.

And the fear that I’d grow farther away emotionally from my family never came true. If anything, the distance strengthened our relationship, especially the one with my father. At home, my father and I often felt out-of-sync. When I was in college, phone calls no longer felt like they were made out of obligation. They were made out of a desire to truly know how the other was doing, especially when I was homesick. Dad even came up two weeks after school started to make me feel better, something my at-home self would have never expected.

I also unapologetically called my mother every morning and FaceTimed my sister and her kids every afternoon. This technology meant that I could still see their faces, their smiles, their growing bodies. My sister notified me every time they learned a new word, tried a new food, and sang a new song. They didn’t forget me. I was still a part of their lives daily.

Homesickness would reappear every often, don’t get me wrong. There were days the distance felt like seven miles and days it felt like 7,000, but ultimately, attending an out-of-state school helped me discover myself and grow closer to my family. I came home for my first summer back aware and grateful for the impact Hope made on me, so when people asked me how my first year went, I could confidently say, “It went better than I ever could have hoped.”