In November of 2012, I came home to East Grand Rapids, Michigan after the first few months of my freshman year at Northwestern. In doing so, I came home from the worst months of my life thus far.
As a self-proclaimed premed, I received a D on my first Chemistry 101 midterm and dropped out of the premed track. Having sung in my high school’s acclaimed a cappella choir for two years, I auditioned for seven Northwestern a cappella groups and received zero callbacks. For weeks, I was rejected from every one of the countless student groups to which I applied and interviewed, including NU Dance Marathon, which accepted over 100 students.
I met hundreds of students through various orientation programs, but I still felt socially isolated and misunderstood. I was pressed to name individuals who I could truly call “friends.” I struggled to match the fiercely cutthroat pace of Northwestern’s quarter system. And, surrounded by thousands of students equally intelligent, motivated, and Type-A as me, my most distinguishing personal characteristics were suddenly no longer unique. I felt one-dimensional and virtually void of a personal identity.
So to Michigan I returned, feeling like a failure in every major facet of my new life. I didn’t face diagnosable mental health issues, but I was in a dark place.
