We are lost, confused, strong-willed know it alls. We avoid our parents’ advice (most of the time) because we believe wholeheartedly in our ability to make big decisions. We are big, bad twenty-somethings; young adults who, in reality, know not as much as we like to think. They call us grown-ups, when really we’re growing-ups—flawed, muddled, and rough around the edges. We make things up as we go along, because who actually knows what they want to do for the rest of their life at such a young age? They warn us, “Make smart decisions. This is the beginning of the rest of your life.” And we try. We genuinely try. But, it’s hard; because the overwhelming pressure to make others proud can often lead us astray from our own fulfillment.
For most of my freshman year, I felt like an awkward piece in a puzzle I had no business being a part of. Once the pep rally and club rush commotion settled down, I was left with a silence that I wasn’t quite sure how to handle. Even now, one year wiser—if you can call it that—I still have my days. That’s the thing about college. It forces you to be alone; to lean on yourself for support when you can barely keep it together. Ironically enough, you’re surrounded by a sea of people. And that’s the hardest part—the solitude; the transition; the adaptation. It’s the self-journey to a destination you have no idea how to reach. It’s what they don’t tell you.
I remember laying in bed at night, wondering why on earth my mom had so vehemently encouraged my pursuit of an out of state education. I questioned, every single day, why she’d planted a “spread your wings baby bird” seed in my head since middle school. It wasn’t until recently that I found, accepted, and came to peace with the answer. Our parents see an incomparable potential in us. With this vision, comes a goal: to support and foster our American dream. They encourage our departure not because they don’t want us, but because they don’t want us to settle. They have more dreams for us than they do themselves, and it’s a beautiful sentiment that can often feel like the weight of the world on shoulders already burdened by heavy bookbags.
This weight can be overwhelming. I understand. I feel it too. We all do. It’s normal to feel momentarily irrelevant among classmates that seem to run from one productive meeting to the next. Though these are only words—letters strung together that live solely on this page—let them resonate with you. Let them in, because there must first be internal changes before your external world can shift. If the reality of “right” or “wrong” choices becomes overbearing, remember that we all come into college as rough drafts. We all suffer countless red pens; torn down and stripped of our confidence time and time again. We are scrutinized and challenged, but also re-written. Remember that our mistakes and lessons learned will ultimately lead to a final draft. And this final draft will be unrecognizable. You will be unrecognizable.
Know that there are no rules to know nor are there formulas to follow when making your way down this bumpy road. Some days will be incredibly hard, but remember that a good one will always follow. Accept that the straight-forward path you—and probably your parents—envisioned will take more twists and turns than not. Were you pre-med when you enrolled? What are you now? Are you happy with it? If the answer is no, it’s okay. Change your path. You have a purpose even if it takes you a little longer to figure it out. Learn as much about yourself as you do Marx, Newton, and Darwin. Evolve. Get lost. And don’t be afraid, because we are all just as confused. Some of us are just better at hiding it.
One day, we might remember our undergraduate experience with nostalgia as we tell our own kids about “the best four years” of our lives. We might look back on this chaos and finally make sense of it. But right now, in this very moment, if a family member, friend, or stranger asks you about college, don’t feel bad if it takes a minute or two to start with something positive. And never feel alone.
Francis Curiel is a Trinity sophomore. This is her first column of the semester.
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