“College will be the best four years of your life” is one of the biggest loads of B.S. I had been told my entire life. Both of my tries at college were huge letdowns. I had no business trying to pick up my whole life and really find myself in college after I graduated high school in 2016. I had never been the kind of kid that was just trying to get out of my hometown: I had solid friendships in high school, I loved living in Seattle and going hiking every weekend, and (aside from a couple of rough years in the middle, there) my parents and I got along really well. Graduating high school and having to make a decision about where I would restart my life were all big thorns in my dramedy coming-of-age side.
My first two years of college were a dumpster fire, even when looked at with rose-colored glasses. My sophomore year left me grappling with both past and present trauma, and — without going into extensive detail — I was down bad. That year, 2018, I went home for the mid-semester spring break because I was really struggling and couldn’t get my sh*t together for the life of me. I remember sitting with my mom in her office while she looked up “Fun Things For College Students On Spring Break” while my friends took trips abroad, having adventures and making memories outside. The epitome of cool, I know.
Before I realized what I was saying, I blurted out, “I don’t want to go back to school. I never should have gone, and all I want to do is travel.” As far as I remember, I hadn’t considered leaving school or taking a gap year until the words were literally spilling out of my mouth. My mom, without missing a beat, just said to me, “Great! What can we do to support you? Let’s make it happen.”
My experience at my chosen college was terrible, and I had no clue what I was doing with my life. Independence was scary to me.
She could have said anything, and to this day, I am convinced that if she had said anything minutely less enthusiastic or supportive, I would have backslid and miserably slugged through the rest of my college experience.
At the time, every bit of trauma I had experienced all came to a head: I had spent the last three years bouncing in and out of a toxic relationship that was filled with codependency, and I had a lot of learning to do in the realm of building independence. My experience at my chosen college was terrible, and I had no clue what I was doing with my life. Independence was scary to me. But for some reason, packing up my stuff, working to save enough money to pay my way through my travels, and creating a budget to see the world outside of Washington spoke to me.
Solo travel was how I wanted to spend my year, and I would have to earn the money to do it myself. I’m a longtime lover of elephants and I knew I wanted to see more, so I began looking into ways to volunteer and learn more about them (while not fueling unethical elephant attractions like elephant riding and bathing experiences). Through a long series of research, applications, and interviews, I was accepted into a research program working with semi-captive African Elephants in South Africa that would start in the fall of 2018. From there, I went to Tanzania and Zanzibar, where I went on safari with a group of German travelers and learned a very niche set of safari and travel-centered German words.
By the time I finished the program, I wanted to find a way to travel through Southeast Asia. But things never really go according to plan: I applied for another conservatory position and was bummed when I wasn’t initially accepted into that elephant program. So, I went to Thailand for a few weeks after leaving Africa to see more elephants on my own. I went full Magellan on that fall trip while I tried (and failed) to uphold a blog. (I still don’t quite understand how it works.)
Solo travel was exciting and terrifying because it left all the decision-making to me. The autonomy to pick up and leave the moment I was ready, the serenity of going to a restaurant by myself and people-watching, and the humility to know when a plan fell through the cracks that there was no one to blame but myself were all lessons that have carved out exactly who I am now.
I came home from that trip so much kinder to myself than when I had left. After dealing with burnout, rediscovering my love of learning at the elephant program impassioned me to re-apply for college with new knowledge of what I wanted to do with my academic life and career.
My decision to Ctrl-Alt-Delete my life as I knew it in 2018 was one that gave me a lot, and took away just as much. But it’s a decision I wouldn’t change for the world.
I had never been a person that had a five-year plan, or had much of an interest in what my life would look like in 10 years. Yet, I came back and had a career plan that felt like it really excited me: I wanted to go back to school. I wanted to get my Masters in Psychology with the hopes of eventually going into the non-medical sector of Doctors without Borders, combining my passion for travel with my interest in serving those that have low access to mental health support.
I ended up deciding to leave my first college and transferring to a school in Southern California with my dog where we met lots of friends… until the COVID-19 shutdown. I graduated during the pandemic after living out the supposed “best four years of my life,” plus one more year for good measure. I received my Bachelor’s in Psychology with a focus on Leadership Studies in 2021 after spending my final three college semesters online.
Taking a gap year saved my life, and I couldn’t be more grateful to the people that supported me through my toughest years. My decision to Ctrl-Alt-Delete my life as I knew it in 2018 was one that gave me a lot, and took away just as much. But it’s a decision I wouldn’t change for the world. Gap years can look like sunshine, rainbows, and smiles on Instagram, but there was a lot of sadness and desperation that I had to face largely alone that year. Grief over a past I can’t correct retroactively has been a work in progress that I still work through.
I desperately needed a break from the rigidity of school and the bad habits I was feeding into, and the best thing I could have done for myself was run the other way. College was never going to be the best four years of my life, and I don’t know that I’d ever really want it to be. I hope the best years of my life are still ahead of me. Because if there’s one thing that throwing life as I knew it in the trash has taught me, it’s that sometimes you just have to do the big, scary thing. The scary thing is often exactly what you need.