When I was in high school I often heard the phrase “college isn’t for everyone,” and it almost always seemed to be followed up with an unspoken addition “but it is for you.”
To me, college felt like a dead end that I was barrelling towards and the brakes in my car had gone out. I had no idea what I wanted the rest of my life to look like. I felt like I knew at one point, but it got lost somewhere along the way to adulthood.
In my junior and senior years of highschool, I kept repeating to my family and teachers that I had only a vague idea of what I was good at but all of my dreams were impractical and I didn’t want to go to college. Every time I was met with a brick wall of absolution that I must go to college.
I decided to go to the University of Central Arkansas, because it seemed like a good place for a blank slate. Three hours away from my hometown and everyone else’s opinion, my entire life began to unravel due to decisions I made.
When I inevitably broke down in the office of a professor whose class I really needed to pass but was going to fail, she shared a personal anecdote about herself with me.
She said she was a mess in college too but she dropped out and worked fast food for a few years. She came back when she was ready and no one remembered her when she was a mess. She encouraged me to do the same.
I dropped out for three years.
And in those three years: I worked myself high up in the chain of command at a restaurant; I got a dog and then three cats demanded to live with me; I moved in with my sister; I entered into what is now a long term relationship; I visited nine states I’d never been to before and I went to therapy.
When I enrolled in the Arkansas State University journalism program I knew I was doing it for me, but that didn’t mean that I didn’t feel uncomfortable for a very long time. I cried more in the first semester than I had in my entire life. I wanted the diploma I’m getting in August more than I had ever wanted anything but I felt like I was making a mistake. Like too much time had passed and now I was too dumb to be here.
But it got better the more I stepped out of my comfort zone and working for The Herald helped a lot. Eventually I took on more responsibility here. I got to know my professors. I took a horse riding class. Every step out of my comfort zone felt simultaneously like I was stepping more into myself.
The honest to God truth is that at 18-years-old I had no idea who I was, what I cared about and what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. Today, I’m glad the decisions for my education were left in the hands of an adult woman and not a mentally-ill teenager.
Categories: Opinion
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