“The Best Four Years”
“College will be the best four years of your life,” every high school senior hears that phrase a hundred times anxiously awaiting this big transition in their lives. For me, those were words I really hoped would be true, but came to find out at least so far, not so much. Going to college wasn’t so exciting for me as I am very much a homebody and not so overwhelmingly open to change, but I figured it was something I had to do so why not attend a smaller size school with a nice campus feel only a few hours from home. The beginning of freshman year, as I imagine it is for most freshmen in college, was filled with excitement coupled with nervous breakdowns of wanting to go home and questioning every decision I had made up until this point in my life. Turns out overall, freshman year turned out pretty great. I had a high GPA, a group of friends and a boy, what more could I want.
Heading into sophomore was quite a different story. It started out okay, being back to school and seeing everybody, living two buildings away from the boy instead of two hours away seemed so great. So great quickly turned into not so great when that relationship ended with fighting. I thought that the breakup wasn’t so bad though, I would still see him around and hopefully we could be friends, plus I still had my friends and plenty to do around campus. It was actually so bad because it turned into something so much bigger when other people were involved calling me names and being rude to me for no reason, but you know “sticks and stones,” that’s what I kept telling myself. It also turns out that going out on the weekends was a big proirity for most poeple, which don’t get me wrong can be fun, but isn’t really my cup of tea for EVERY SINGLE weekend night. All that aside, I tried to keep up in my classes and focus on doing things I enjoyed with my friends, but that wasn’t so easy. I am an anxious person as it is and the break up with the boy coupled with the increasingly hard course load wasn’t turning out so good. I didn’t want to do anything but lie in bed and ask my mom if I could transfer, thinking that might solve all my problems. If I transferred, I wouldn’t have to see the people that upset me and I could start all over being back at home.
Realizing that this wasn’t the best solution, I put on a happy face, passed all my classes and finished the semester without packing up and running away. I had applied to transfer in the spring to a school much closer to home, but wanted to see how the next semester would go. My mindset heading into the spring of sophomore year was a lot more positive, thinking I could pull myself back up and enjoy school again even after all the drama and anxiety that surrounded fall semester. For about three whole days that mindset stuck with me until I realized nothing at school had changed. There was still a group of boys that I thought hated me, which caused lots of stress for me because all I want is to be nice and try to get along with everyone. There were still nursing classes that weren’t the easiest thing in the world especially with everything else flying around in my head. In a nutshell, I realized after those three short days of spring semester I couldn’t stay at school. Luckily I was able to withdraw and enroll in that school I had applied to transfer to which was close to home. Within that week, I found myself somewhat reluctantly making the second big transition within two years, which was slightly easier, being that I was coming home instead of leaving home this time. When I say slightly easier I really emphasis slightly, because this past semester was anything but easy for me. On the outside it may look fine, I got A’s in the few classes I was taking and attended a mission trip over spring break, what a fun semester right? Wrong.
It wasn’t school or the people anymore, it was me. I knew I was at a place where I wasn’t supposed to be and this wasn’t how life was supposed to be going. I have a problem wanting to be able to control everything I can and make sure nothing goes wrong. Turns out I couldn’t do that anymore. This past semester I sat and worried about if I had made the right decision over and over while wondering what everyone else was doing at the school I had left. I didn’t know if the boys hated me or if no one even cared anymore, but the more time I spent thinking about it, the worse I felt.
Sitting here now, having finished this semester and deciding to attend school close to home again in the fall, I have high hopes that things will get better. I have hesitantly come to realization that the people that hurt me don’t mean anything anymore and I have to look forward instead of constantly trying to look back and make sure everything is okay. This isn’t going to be an easy thing for me, but this summer has to be about moving forward. Once I was able to let myself relax and realize I’m maybe not where I thought I would be, but I am still in school, studying nursing and trying my best, I have seen this decision is more than worth it.
Opening my mind to school and being involved will help me make a better transition back into next semester and I’m actually looking forward to it. I’m taking on this summer and upcoming semester with my head up and eyes forward, or else I risk tripping and falling anyways, so win/win there. In the time being around family and friends this summer in addition to lots of work, I am confident now that I will be able to see this decision was the best thing for me. I can’t say it was easy, but I’m glad I stuck with it and refused to turn back. I’m grateful for my year and a half at the school I left becuase I left with amazing friends and experiences, along with some not so great experiences which I have grown from. Two (or three) years of college to go and I really hope the best is yet to come.