I remember thinking “I made it!” at my high school graduation. I truly believed that I had overcome the most strenuous time of my life by walking across that stage to receive my high school diploma. I was so excited to move out and go to college. I thought I was prepared “to be an adult”. I had lots of friends, I knew that I was comfortable in the world of academia, and I was certain that college life was going to be a walk in the sunniest of parks. How wrong I was…
Moving out of my parents’ house was the beginning of the realization that I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. I called my mom every day to ask her questions about the simplest things, and I was devastated that I wasn’t as much of an “adult” as I had wanted to be. I struggled with everything that a new college student struggles with. I missed my family, I got lost on campus, I wasn’t sure which ingredients to buy to make food the way my mom did, etc. It was very overwhelming, but over time I began to get into a groove and figure it out. However, there was one area in my life that I couldn’t seem to master: the drastic change in my social life.
I attended a small public charter school from seventh to twelfth grade. I had a very bubbly personality and was friends with nearly everyone in my graduating class. I was the “nerd girl” who liked to read and write, but it was okay because elevated academic success was the expectation among my peers, and everyone had similar ideals. I didn’t know that I was completely and utterly unprepared for college life.
There are a lot of people on a college campus with a large variety of different ideologies, religions, political stances, and lifestyles. For some, this mixing pot of our generation provides opportunities to branch out and discover ourselves as we emerge into the adult world. I wanted so badly to be that person, but instead, my loud and bubbly personality got quieter and quieter because everything and everyone was so different from me. I went from being friends with the whole school to having three or four friends. I was obviously devastated at my regression in the social hierarchy, and expressed my frustrations to my mother.
“I’m just not cool anymore, Mom”, I cried over the phone. “No one even says ‘hi’ to me as we pass in the hallway, and I just feel invisible.”
Now, my mother and I have complete opposite personalities. She is very introverted and I had been a huge extrovert up to that point. She expressed that she knew exactly how I was feeling, and offered to share her coping mechanism with me.
“I call it the Smile Game,” she said. “Sometimes it is very hard to be alone, doing all your ‘grown-up’ responsibilities, and it feels like no one sees you. Well, guess what? Everyone feels the same way! Everyone feels invisible sometimes. So how can you help yourself? You can be seen by seeing someone else. Go on campus or to a grocery store, or wherever you want,” she instructed, “and smile at every single person you make eye contact with. Not a creepy or weird smile, but just give them a little smile as they pass you. Then, count how many times people smile back at you. After a while, you’re going to feel better.”
Her advice changed my college experience.
I love the Smile Game because it doesn’t cost anything, yet it gives so much. You are giving recognition and a smile to someone who most likely needs it! They probably feel the same exact way that you do, at least to some degree. As you see them and focus on lifting their spirits, you yourself will begin to feel seen by those who smile back at you. So, if you are struggling with feeling alone, different, unseen, or down, I challenge you to play the Smile Game. I challenge you to be seen by seeing others.