A New Outlook

Happy Monday friends! I woke up this morning to a sunny, blue sky and a whole new attitude. How often does that happen on a Monday?

As you could probably tell, last week was pretty rough for me. Although there were good parts, the bad ones still loomed over everything. Thankfully my family came to the rescue once again, and by 7 pm Friday night I was headed home with my mom and sister. A mere week apart from them seemed like MONTHS. But we picked up where we left off, like nothing had ever changed.

This past weekend was instrumental in helping my mental and emotional state. Granted, going home the first weekend of my being at college is probably frowned upon by all those “Ways To Survive College” blog posts and lists, but it was what I needed at the time. Plus, I’m a huge advocate of doing whatever you need to do in order to improve your happiness. And prior to this weekend, my happiness level was sinking far too low for my liking. So I went home, and I let my family play their part in helping me get better.

To see that my mom cared and worried enough about me to drive two hours just to come pick me up for two nights, and then another two hours back on Sunday, was enough for me. The gesture was so huge and the gratitude I held was consuming. In that moment I was overcome with love and support and that’s all I could have asked for.

My drive back with my mom yesterday, however, was kind of the “cherry on top.” In other words, her advice and her willingness to listen to my doubts and fears gave me the strength that I so largely lacked. She helped change my outlook on my situation; because even though I’ve felt lonely and scared and completely out of my element here, she assured me that things WILL get better. She has hope and faith in me and that’s something that I myself wasn’t even sure I had.

So instead of looking at this semester, or rather this year, in complete dread, I am going to look on the bright side from now on. I am surrounded by amazing, caring people all around. Not only did my family help me through that little rough patch, but my incredible friends did, too. Tricia was there for me on my first nights away, she was kind of that shoulder to cry on, she knew what I was going through and she knew what I needed to hear. It’s so reassuring to know that even though she’s four hours away, she’s still right there for me. And Reena, who is across the globe right now, still showing so much interest in how I’m doing. She’s traveling across the world and she takes the time to ask me those little questions that make me feel cared for. I am so so lucky to have these two as friends. I love you guys.

What I’ve learned is this: things can and will get better. Sometimes the burden can be too much to handle on your own, which is why you need a little help every now and then. Surround yourself with people who will be there for you through everything, people who will send texts asking how your day was, people who inadvertently and intentionally show their love for you, people who will know when things are wrong even if you don’t admit to it. Surround yourself with people who make you feel loved and who radiate happiness and positivity. Those are the people who will get you through the dark parts in your life, hold on to them. Never take them for granted.

In Search Of: TLC

Greetings all! I hope you’re all ready for an emotional post by yours truly. In fact, if you’re feeling ever so chipper today and don’t feel particularly keen on my whine-fest gettin’ ya down, I would suggest clicking that little x up there in the corner and saving this for a rainy day. Coincidentally, it’s a rainy day here. Perfect.

Let me first start off by saying that life is good. I am fully aware that my issues are those worthy of a single tissue, and  that of course I could always have it worse. But this blog is like my bathroom; I know, I know, how strange. My bathroom is one of the few places where I actually feel alone and private and well, safe. Because other than my sister (who doesn’t quite grasp the idea that someone would want peace and quiet in the bathroom, cough cough), nobody bothers me in there. Once you shut that door and lock it it becomes some sort of shield from everything and anything. That’s what my blog is like for me. Although I haven’t had it long, and I’m still new at this whole thing, it’s my shield. I can write whatever weird or babbly or emotional thoughts here and that’s the end of it.

Wow, my analogies are not the most seamless, I will admit that. So without further or due, I present to you my first (of many) emotional posts. Good luck.

It’s only day two of classes and I’m already a wreck. Constantly over-thinking, feeling anxious, stressing out about every possible little thing that could go wrong. You name it, I guarantee I’ve worried about it. What do I do if I run out of money? Can I handle these classes? What if my books don’t get here on time? What happens if I don’t get A’s anymore? Will I ever make friends? How the hell am I supposed to clean up the disgusting mess of urine all over the toilet seat?!

I don’t classify myself as a worry wart, but there’s something about being on my own that really freaks me out. All this responsibility is thrown into my lap all at once and I’m still trying to figure out how deal with it. My palms are sweaty even thinking about it and to be quite honest, this isn’t how I pictured my time away at college would be. I know I’m not one for parties or huge social gatherings, but I thought I’d at least be enjoying myself and having “the time of my life”. I suppose that’s not the case for everyone, though.

I’m already kicking myself for not deciding to major in Women’s/Gender Studies because I am so extremely passionate about it. I’m currently taking three classes on gender studies and I have never been so intrigued and curious about a subject or class before. I’ve gotten goosebumps from just hearing my professors lightly mention the topics and material we will be covering in the class. I guess what it comes down to is the fact that regardless of what anyone else thinks, you have to do things you’re passionate about. I hope one day to be part of an organization that’s sole purpose is to help, inspire, educate, and better the lives of women all across the world. It probably seems trite and irritating to some, but I’m bound to that dream in many ways. I want to use the power and knowledge and privileges that I myself have and turn them into opportunities for women everywhere.

You know how they say the average college student changes their major about three times? Well…is only two days of class too early to want to change my major? I wish I was kidding, but I already have the feeling that I jumped too soon into something that I’m not wholly confident about. I love to write and I want writing to be a big part of my future career, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not positive that Journalism is the right direction from me. Maybe it’s just me over thinking myself again, but I don’t know that I can hold much interest in everyday news gathering and reporting. I believe that journalists must be animated and eager to write about certain things, but my interest in politics, economics, etc are hardly even there. I know it’s far too soon to be making rash decisions, and I’ve already decided to stick with it for at least this semester, but I think I should dig deeper into what I’m really interested in, not just what I think I should be interested in. Am I making any sense?

Hold on tight folks, I’m almost done with the complaining. I promise.

Okay, almost a week in and it’s official. I’m homesick. I miss my mom and my dad and my siblings and I miss my dogs and everything in between.  I hate the feeling that I’m missing out on things, that they’re making memories and stories that I’ll only hear about secondhand. Is that selfish of me? For so long I was surrounded by them every day and now all the stories come from my phone, or Facebook. I’ve always wanted to pack up and adventure to faraway lands, and the fantasies were always so easy in my mind. But look at me now, I’m a mere two hours away from home and I’m already itching to go back. I’ve always been a dreamer of sorts; things spike my interest when they’re figments of my imagination, but when they’re brought to life, then I’m not as tough as I once thought.

Is this what growing up is? Forcing yourself to put a wedge between your life before and your life now? If that’s the case, I can’t entertain the idea of ever actually growing up. Perhaps I’m childish and weak for missing my family, perhaps I’m a baby because I don’t like being away from home, whatever. The fact of the matter is that twenty years on earth has taught me this: family and friends and your home aren’t just pawns in the game of “growing up”. Each year isn’t a chance to pass GO and flake off another piece of your childhood. Growing up and keeping parts of your youth isn’t impossible, and I don’t see why I should expect myself to transition so easily. I’m still young, and there are parts of me that are still childlike, but that doesn’t change anything about me growing as a person. I am strong and independent and loving as well as weak and lonely and scared and you know what? That’s okay. It’s taken me a long time to realize that but I’m finally starting to grasp it.

If you’ve taken your time to read through this dramatic post, I appreciate it. And if it resonates with you, or if it’s something that you’ve experienced and feel well-equipped on, please don’t hesitate to throw some words of wisdom at me. Or if you wanna send me any virtual hugs, my arms (and laptop) are open. Tomorrow will be a better day.