When I was growing up, I remember always having a romanticized idea of moving far away for college. I don’t know why, because I adore my family and my small hometown. I just wanted what I always saw in movies and read in books. College was supposed to be living far away from home, a well decorated dorm room and bad dining hall food. Those were the boxes I had to check to have the “right” college experience. Out-of-state tuition is expensive, and if I’m honest, I was too scared to commit to leaving my home state. Even still, I completely convinced myself that I wouldn’t truly be living that perfect college life if I wasn’t far from home.
That’s how I ended up at Xavier University in Cincinnati, a nearly five-hour drive from everything I knew to be comfortable. While not a glaring distance, I felt an elated sense of terror as I said goodbye to my parents on move-in day. It felt like I was truly on my own for the first time, even though my family and everything I had grown up with were just a phone call away. “This is it,” I thought to myself, “this is what I’ve been dreaming about, I’m doing everything right.” Those thoughts seem ludicrous now, because I truly could not have been more wrong.
As I spent my first few weeks on campus, the dream I was living became a nightmare. The excitement wore off, and I was met with an entirely different emotion: loneliness. I missed my parents so much that it sometimes felt like the weight was crushing me. Everything in the city was unfamiliar. I didn’t know anyone, and nothing felt right. Still, everyone kept telling me this was normal.
My therapist told me everyone was probably feeling this, they were just hiding it. Well, while they were hiding their feelings, my sadness must have seeped from my pores, because I was positively unable to make friends. I joined countless clubs, even went on a freshman retreat, all in desperation to make a connection that felt real, to put down roots and feel some sense of belonging. Was this really my childhood dream? Was this what I had planned for all these years? Doubt crept in slowly as the days dragged on. I felt deeply unsettled on campus, no matter what I did. Something inside me told me I had made the wrong choice. I felt it so deeply it was almost painful.
“I must just not be trying hard enough,” I told myself. “I just need to be more outgoing,” I thought, “I can make this work.” But I couldn’t. No matter how I tried to drown it out, it seemed my heart continued to scream, “This is not where you’re meant to be.” I made myself miserable trying to tough it out, because that’s what I was “supposed” to do. I didn’t recognize myself. My grades were dropping steadily; I struggled to get out of bed each morning. Where was my college experience? This was it. I checked all the boxes. Far away from home? Check. Tiny dorm room? Check. Bad dining hall food? Check.
I watched everyone else break off into friend groups and wondered every day why I couldn’t be the same. My friends from high school, all scattered around different universities, were all doing just fine. I felt like such a failure. I was too ashamed to tell anyone how alone I felt.
One weekend a few months into the semester, I went home to see my parents. I felt a weight lift off my chest the second I started to drive. Something in me knew I wouldn’t have to endure this much longer. On Sunday night, I had my things packed to go back to school. I was in the living room chatting with my parents, trying to find any reason to delay leaving. My mom asked me if I was okay, and I started sobbing.
There, on the living room floor, I voiced what I had been holding back for so long. “I can’t go back there. I can’t do it,” I said through tears. My parents, ever understanding and supportive, simply said, “You don’t have to.” So, I didn’t. I emailed all the right people, and I withdrew. I packed up my dorm in three hours and left for good. I remember “Mess” by Noah Kahan coming on in the car as I pulled onto the exit ramp. I screamed those lyrics and felt them like I never had before. I felt freer than I had in months, confined to the borders of my small town.
“I’ll move back home forever. I’ll feed the dogs, and I’ll put all my pieces back together, where they belong.”
Kahan, N. (2019). Busyhead. Mess. https://open.spotify.com/track/1BlQWQgGP84r4GYUVty4Ar?si=39313ae0a350422f.
“So, what’s next?” My mom asked the night I moved back home. My terrifying answer was, “I don’t know.” I had always had my future planned out, my college checklist, my career, all my plans were laid. How could I not know now, when just six months prior I was so certain? I knew one thing: I still wanted to go to college. Now, I just had to figure out where. I knew I didn’t want to be a nursing major anymore, I realized that pretty much as soon as I started the program at Xavier, so that left me with yet another question. I never thought I would be 18 and still wondering “What do I want to do when I grow up?”
I thought about what I wanted out of a career. I knew I wanted to help people, I knew I wanted to make a difference and I knew I loved anatomy and human physiology. I eventually landed on occupational therapy. Still, I didn’t know where I wanted to pursue this new path.
The answer seemed to fall out of thin air in October that year. My best friend already went to Kent, and she invited me to stay with her over Halloween weekend. I fell in love with the campus and the way I felt while I was there. It was such a breath of fresh air. I knew almost immediately that Kent State was where I should be. I applied the very next day, while getting breakfast with my friend in the dining hall.
I registered as a commuter student, which felt like such a 180 from what I believed my college journey would be. Even though I had blown up every single fanciful idea I had about college, I somehow felt that my life was on the right track. Even though I would be a semester behind all my friends. Even though I would be living at home with my parents as roommates. It was nothing like what I had pictured for myself, but it was the best decision I have ever made.
I found a new appreciation for the purple walls of my childhood bedroom. I found peace in the practiced ease of my hands on the steering wheel as I drove the long-memorized path to my best friend’s house. Part of me felt like I failed by staying behind, but I realized that it didn’t matter where I was; it just mattered that I was doing what was right for myself. College is meant to be an enjoyable and formative experience; it isn’t meant to be one-size-fits-all. What was right for others wasn’t right for me, and that was okay with me.
Now, in my second semester of sophomore year at Kent, I feel qualified to pass on some sage advice to those who may be grappling with all the questions about what the “right” college experience is.
Is it normal to take a semester off? Is it normal not to go to college right after high school? Is it okay to transfer? Is it okay to change my major? Is it weird if I choose to commute? Is it weird if I never live in a dorm?
My answer to all of those questions, dear reader, is this: You always have the right to change your mind. Your journey is yours, so know yourself well enough to know when it is time to change course. You do not need more of an excuse than “I just know this isn’t right for me.” Forget about the “college experience” and do what will make you happy.
Whether that means a gap year, a semester off, commuting, moving to a different state or staying right where you are, make it the right college experience for you.