On August 22nd, 2016, I picked up my two giant suitcases from Carousel 6 in Philadelphia International Airport. I was about to head to Bryn Mawr and was experiencing some major déjà vu.
Four years ago, I picked up two similarly-sized suitcases from a carousel in Boston Airport, because I made a brave decision to leave my home in China to attend a boarding high school in Groton, MA. Many people ask me how I made my decision to leave home at the age of fifteen. There was no special reason. In fact, it was a cliché—it’s a good student’s dream to receive a quality education.
It wasn’t until I arrived in the US that I realized I was too young and naïve to even understand what “quality education” and “success” truly meant. The world is a lot bigger than what I expected, and there was way too much going on at once. I felt like an arrow shot without a target: determined, with nowhere to go. I was lost, and what came with loss was anxiety, stress and depression. My new high school, Lawrence Academy, was a 200-year-old preparatory school with a close-knit community of four hundred people and rich school traditions. During our new student orientation week, we were brought to an overnight Alpine Camp for class bonding. We zip-lined, created trust fall circles, learned and chanted our school song, sang around a bon fire in a circle, and so on. It was a cute community bonding experience, and I enjoyed none of it. I was anxious to know what classes would be like, whether my teachers would approve of my class performance, whether I would be able to complete my homework, whether I would get enough sleep…but most importantly, I was anxious for a goal—for accomplishment.
The anxiety was only worsened with the overwhelming fear that I was neither going to find nor achieve that goal.
Long story short, my high school life started out sad, and remained so for about two years. Subconsciously, I closed myself off, trying to cope with my anxiety by overworking. I thought that was a good distraction from my stress and depression. It only added another layer of stress because it made me overly conscious of getting good grades and getting into a high-ranking college. I stopped taking note of my emotions. This was when I started to lose myself.
Gradually, I forgot who I used to be. I could only see my old self in my dream, and in my dream I was a happy young girl— outgoing, carefree, unworried about the future, readily trying new things. I missed the old me.
I began reevaluating my life. For example, I wondered why I could try new things back then, but not now. Now, the world was so much bigger and less familiar, and there were far more new things for me to try. Why couldn’t I take advantage of that?
WHEN? JUNIOR YEAR? I attended my first club meeting in Relay for Life. I volunteered to build houses in New Orleans. I joined conversations at diversity lunch series that made me conscious of issues regarding racial and sexuality, and became a passionate activist for social justice. I became more and more eager to explore the world around me that once felt too vast. I wanted to try different opportunities that would help me find my calling.
Now, as I am settling in at Bryn Mawr College, I’m still lost. I do not know what I am going to do for the next four years, or for the rest of my life. But unlike four years ago, I now quite enjoy being lost. Being lost means I am living with an open mind, with the willingness to take risks, seek new opportunities, learn to like something I have never known before, and step into the impossible to make it possible.
Everyone feels lost at some point in his or her life. Or, most people at most times are lost. Take it as an opportunity to explore the world, to expose yourself to things you have never seen or done. Four years of college is short, so being set on one goal and working towards that alone is definitely not the most effective way to spend your time. You will miss your chance to fully grow as a versatile human being, with new interests and different perspectives.
One thing I have “found” is that I truly belong at Bryn Mawr. As I walk through its Hogwarts-like castles, surrounded by a community that is supportive and accepting, I find I am in an environment that encourages me to be my truest self. And while walking down the aisle formed by upperclassmen singing “goodnight” with lanterns swinging in the air, I knew I found home.