There’s just 4 days left until I head back to school. It seems as though everyone on social media is super pumped to get back on campus, be reunited with their friends, dive into clubs and organizations, and fall into the hectic, unique college paradox of a routine again.
Yet…I can’t help but feel this overwhelming dread at the very thought.
Based off of my previous posts, it’s obvious that I had a rough freshman year (to say the least). Friendships were broken just as quickly as they were formed. Principles I had sworn I would uphold before college started were blatantly ignored. Priorities became all jumbled up. Homesickness was a constant, dull pain, as I faced a sea of unfamiliar faces each and every day.
Everything just hurt.
All the days leading up to heading back, I’ve been trying to muster up the enthusiasm and hope for the future I had as an incoming freshman. It’s been difficult when I reflect on what I’ve already experienced so far.
I just don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know what I want. I keep on putting on different hats of values and trying on different suits of interests, but nothing seems to fit so far. Every time I try something different, a little bit of myself is lost in the process.
Sure, it’s great to try new experiences and put yourself out of your comfort zone. That’s how you grow and mature, and I’ve been so thankful for that. But the thing is…it’s just been a long, long time since I’ve been in my comfort zone.
Going into sophomore year, almost nothing is certain — I don’t know who my friends are going to be this year. I don’t know whether I’m going to get into the Business School, the School of Public Health, or neither. I don’t know what clubs and organizations I’m going to commit myself to. Rowing? A sorority? Campus Y? Tramping club? Who knows…
There’s just one thing that comforts me in this process. I know that my hope and trust in God is renewed, for real this time. Throughout the pain of freshman year, He stuck by me throughout the entire thing (despite all my attempts to spurn Him). He was there by my side when I essentially failed all my classes, lost my so-called friends, and didn’t have my family or hometown friends to comfort me. He was there for me when I was hazed and humiliated. He was there when I felt 100% alone, completely defenseless and utterly unloved.
He was there.
I can’t make this mistake again. I really can’t do this again for a second year. As much as I want to convince myself otherwise, my heart and soul just can’t take it.
From this point on forward, I vow to surrender myself wholly to Him. No more living a double life. No more avoiding and faking.
This is the year. This will be His year.