It is the spring semester of my senior year. My last semester of my undergraduate degree. Less than four months until I move back home and away from my friends. Less than four months until the academic validation I have so earnestly sought all my life will no longer be the measure of my life.
If you asked me a few years ago what my last semester of college would be like, I would have said that it would be some of the most fun times of my life. I had visions of finally getting the lead in the spring musical, going out to fun bars with my friends, and finally feeling comfortable in my own skin. So far I am 0 for 3. I did not get the lead in the musical. COVID is running rampant in Greenville. And I have the worst acne of my life.
I just have three words: What the f*ck. I feel like my dreams for this semester were not unrealistic. And maybe that is why the weight of their loss is bearing down so heavily.
I am, in the words of my therapist, a “highly sensitive person.” I feel everything so deeply. So we are only 2 weeks in and these three blows have already emaciated any hopes I had for this semester.
As I was laying on the floor of my bedroom on Saturday night crying hysterically, all I wanted to do was make it stop: the deep pain, disappointment, and rejection that I was feeling.
In the midst of that I was reminded of a conversation I had in therapy about having high hopes. She told me that having high hopes takes courage. It takes courage to know that the likelihood of disappointment is high, but you dare to dream big anyway. This is hard to do. Every time I am disappointed it takes every ounce of my courage not to just shut down.
What if I did shut down? What if I let the big feelings win? I would lose such an important part of myself, part of myself I have fought to discover and to keep. I would lose my ability to empathize and my ability to enjoy life. I know that disappointment and rejection are my least favorite feelings. Those feelings, as horrible as they are, are the price I am willing to pay in order to have high hopes.
Maybe my years in college are not my golden years. I will fight to have high hopes that the future holds more for me outside the Furman bubble, but maybe it doesn’t. That is ok. Every day I will continue to wake up and have high hopes because that is the kind of person I want to be. I want to be a big dreamer and a deep feeler, even if the price is high.
My hope is that you all can have the courage to have high hopes.
P.S. If you want some advice about enjoying where you are in life I recommend reading Annie Hodge’s Be Where your Feet Are !