When I transferred schools between my freshman and sophomore year, I had a burning question eating me up throughout the whole process: am I making the right decision?
I was attending a decent school with an athletic scholarship, I had created more friendships within my freshman year than I did all of high school, and I was on a secure path to a suitable major. What was I thinking?
I wouldn’t say I was unhappy at my old school, but I wasn’t where I was supposed to be and deep down, I knew it. The opportunities were limited for me and I felt as if there was no room for me to grow.
My family questioned me the whole summer, wondering why I all of a sudden quit a sport I had dedicated my life to, why was I “going to a big school where none of your professors will bother to even learn your name?” And suddenly, they got to me. Why was I doing this again?
Oh yeah, I forgot.
Did I mention that I was more stressed about the sport I was playing than my classes? I was thrust into a varsity position last minute, and the pressure that was put on me caused my anxiety to skyrocket out of control. My grades started to suffer, partially because I was majoring in a field I wasn’t even interested in. When I got injured at the end of the year and was told there was a possibility of surgery if I kept participating, I’d had enough.
In a nutshell, the cons outweighed the pros, so I left and never looked back.
Cut to almost a year later, and it was the best decision I have ever made. My family agrees. I know my place now, and even though jumping was scary, I managed to stick the landing. It’s worth it to try something else if you’re not happy on the inside. (No matter how much you’re convinced that you’re happy on the outside.) In the end, I know my place and I feel that I belong. I don’t even want to know where I would be if I had not had that initial question in the back of my mind: am I making the right decision? Spoiler alert: I was.