“Top 10 freshman year canon events,” the woman on my TikTok For You page presents. The glow of my phone lights up the dark of my dorm room. In the top right corner, the time reads 12:45 a.m., I should really be asleep. I never used to go to sleep this late. I have class in the morning. The woman on my screen starts listing all sorts of crazy things that might happen to you in your freshman year of college.
I don’t know what’s scarier: the events themselves, or the fact that many of the events have already happened to me.
I have always been an extroverted individual. I enjoy talking to others and meeting new people. Because of this, I was able to meet and form a friend group of equally social people in high school. Despite being social, I was intensely studious. I didn’t go to parties often, and I never skipped class. Despite being extroverted, I stayed in my lane. I wasn’t impulsive or reckless.
Since getting to college, however, it seems I’ve made a full 180.
My social demeanor means I not only talk to new people, but I also go out with them, often. My extroverted nature means I sometimes do silly things in public without thinking of the consequences. I’m having lots of fun, but I’m also mixing chaos into my life that I’m not used to. I can’t help but feel like a complete wreck sometimes.
From talking to my friends both at Mizzou and at other schools, this seems to be a universal experience. There are psychological reasons for this elevated partying behavior. The National Library of Medicine identifies social camaraderie as a leading cause for this behavior.
Considering my knowledge of myself — that I’m an extrovert — this checks out. But what coping mechanisms exist to deal with the unshakable feeling of failure? Personally, I’ve adopted a mantra I tell myself whenever I feel a little too “freshman,” and it goes like this: “I’m allowed.” I repeat it to myself. “I’m allowed.” It reminds me that I’m allowed to make mistakes, to be crazy, to go out, to make silly decisions, to mess up. I am allowed. This mantra has been freeing for me. It’s harnessed self-deprecation into forgiveness.
“I’m allowed” certainly doesn’t excuse dangerous, unkind or otherwise negative actions. It doesn’t excuse anything, really. But it does ground me when I do something a little out there, something that senior year Ruby wouldn’t have done. It reminds me that growing means messing up and making mistakes. It reminds me that I’m allowed.