Ah, my college career is near its end. Being a second semester senior definitely comes with some ~stress~ but also a lot of contemplation. As I reflect back on my time at DePauw, I realize that, (yep, you guessed it) being in a Greek house has been a big part of my experience. The heavy Greek life at DePauw has its fair share of problems, and trust me, I will happily talk about these when given the chance. But ultimately, I have loved my experience in a sorority, and I know my time at DePauw wouldn’t have been as rich without it. Yes, yes, I will be mushy all day about my love for my sorority, but it has been a long journey to get there, so let’s start from the beginning. Here’s my not so full of rainbows and glitter recruitment story:
Rewind all the way back to high school, and even way before that, because I grew up being extremely shy. I was always a “don’t speak unless spoken to” kind of gal. This would probably come as a big surprise to people who have only known me in college, and I like it that way, because I hated being quiet. I longed to find the courage to speak up, to let people in, and to live without a care in the world of what other people thought, but easier said than done.
I told myself “college will be different.” I promised myself that I wouldn’t be afraid. I was going to be my same goofy self around strangers as I was with my close friends. And I did a halfway decent job at that. Within weeks at DePauw, I found the strong sense of community I had been longing for. I loved my roommate, the people on my floor, and my classes. Everything felt right. When I was home for breaks, I wanted to go back to school.
Then recruitment came along. Greek life is one of the things that drew me to DePauw in the first place, so of course I was going to do it. The concept of moving from house to house to talk to strangers and trying to get them to like you is a pretty terrifying concept for an introvert. But apparently, this is the only way it could be done.
So, after a pretty successful first semester, I headed back to school hopeful that in just a few short days, I would have found a “new home.” That’s what happens to everyone, right?
First round was pretty exhausting. I explained to dozens of girls where Chesterton, Indiana, is and that I basically had no idea what I wanted to major in. But I still felt hopeful and confident. I went back to my room and had pizza with my friends as we talked about our days and made bets on which houses the boys on our floor would end up in tomorrow.
Then second round came along, and I was in my “business” attire even though I was 18 and never rocked that look before. I had hope as I walked to Meharry Hall to find out what houses invited me back. I flipped around a little name tag to see what houses I was going to, and the hope faded. I was beyond ~freaked out~ when I saw I was going back to just one house. Most of the people next to me had four listed. What did I do wrong?? I called my mom as I walked out of Meharry; “what did I do wrong?” I repeated to her. I was holding back tears, but I was assigned to visit this house in the first round. So, within seconds, I had to pull it together. It’s not that I didn’t want to be going back to that house. I did. But I couldn’t help but wonder why the other five houses didn’t like me. (Yes, this is dramatic, but this is what I was feeling.) I remembered that, the day before, I had a really good conversation with a woman at the house I was going back to, so I tried to stay positive. The woman I talked to and I bonded over our love for New Girl, but I am guessing my nerves looked like disinterest to her. I left, trying to keep the hope. Hmm, was that 15-minute conversation enough for a girl I just met to think I’m ~worthy of the sisterhood~??
Now it was time to overanalyze that conversation until I nearly made myself sick. I had a bad feeling about this, but again, I was trying to stay hopeful and all.
As the night went on, I felt more and more nervous. If I wasn’t getting invited back the next day, someone from Panhellenic would call me. Hour by hour, I prayed that the phone wouldn’t ring. I hung my new blue dress up on my closet door—one that I bought specifically for this occasion. I was going to wake up and make sure my makeup was perfect and that I was in my cocktail dress for 8 a.m. the next day. (Can we talk about why we have to dress in cocktail attire this early on a SUNDAY MORNING?? Anyway… ) I thought I made it. No call!! “They liked me,” I thought.
And then, as I was literally resting my head on the pillow and turning my phone over (making sure I had 17 alarms to wake me up), I got a call. It was an unknown number. My heart sank. “Hi Bridget, this is ___ from Panhellenic. I am calling to tell you that you did not get invited back to any houses for third round. Do you have any questions?” “…No. Thank you,” I said. Except I had a million and a half questions.
I kinda cried a lot, lol it’s fine. I buried my face in my pillow, but I barely slept. My family came down the next day. My mom knew she needed to see me the second I called the night before. I spent the day with them in the Inn. Mainly it was me crying, mixed with some TV watching. I felt like my good college experience had happened and ended in a couple months. When I was a first-year at least, the school was 75% Greek. That’s a freaking lot. I was scared about the next three and a half years (which sounds dramatic af, again). These fears were based on seeing people ask “what house are you in” directly after “what’s your name?” my entire first semester. They were based off all the people telling me I would find where I belong. Now, it seemed like I didn’t belong anywhere.
And the next few months were ROUGH. I analyzed those 10-minute conversations over and over. I wished and wished I could be a part of all the new excitement. And I hoped that next year would be better.
My “everything works out in the end” story came a little later. I ended up getting an open bid to a sorority November of my sophomore year. That day, so many fears were lifted from me. And I can honestly say that I found where I belong in the end. I even got up and gave a speech during recruitment this year. 18-year-old me would be shook. I probably terrified a hundred-some first-year women as I got up and told them I didn’t get into a house my first year. But I think I also gave them a glimpse into why finding your people is so important. And, with that being said, sometimes things don’t go as planned. This is why having support is so important. As stereotypical as a sorority can be sometimes, not feeling welcomed hurts like hell. I don’t care who you are or what the situation is. I’m so thankful that I had people at DePauw and a family that supported me when I didn’t feel valued. I’m also thankful that I finally did find “where I belong,” and I never want to take that feeling for granted.