When I first arrived at Penn State I was overwhelmed with excitement and anxiety. I had little to no idea what I was getting myself into. There were so many people on a ginormous campus that was seemingly impossible to navigate.
I sort of pushed my parents out the door even though deep down I did not want them to leave. I was thrown into a shoebox-sized room with a girl I had never met before. This seemed epic, a whole campus filled with people in my age group, almost like a giant sleepover party.
This was of course before classes picked up and reality set in.
Fast forward four years, that random girl in the dorm turned out to be one of my best friends who I still live with today. Despite all this excitement when a few days went by the blues set in. I was doing some shopping with my “new friends” trying to keep a smile on my face and buy what the other girls were buying, but then the tears started rolling down my face non-stop like a sled down a steep hill.
I didn’t know why, everyone was asking me “what’s wrong, what happened?” I didn’t have an answer for them. I felt a sudden onset of sadness and homesick, I had never felt homesick prior to this. It was a strange feeling but simultaneously comforting knowing I had such a great hometown with great people and a great family.
Hours went by, the tears never stopped. The “new friends” I mentioned were girls just like me, placed into these strange cell like rooms. Each of us like puzzle pieces that didn’t quite fit yet, just trying to put ourselves out there. Trying to find edges that matched someone else’s.
Everyone pretending not to be nervous, acting like they knew the map of this place by heart, like they weren’t secretly just lost inside. Radiating a facade that they have tons of friends and know things about the campus that you don’t. But underneath all that? I could see it, we were all the same.
Wide-eyed, overwhelmed, silently craving connection.
The rooms may have been sterile, the hallways unfamiliar, but slowly, I started to realize that this stage of life wasn’t about having it all figured out. It was about the act of becoming. Of stumbling into friendships, missteps, laughter that didn’t feel forced, and small moments that made the unknown a little more familiar.
I didn’t find my friends during syllabus week, or even in the first month, but over time, through late-night talks, quiet struggles, and unexpected laughter, I built a village rooted in real connection, the kind that lasts far beyond college walls.
- Finding Stability Through Structure
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Having a structure gave me a sense of control in a time when everything felt unfamiliar. Blocking out time for class, meals, workouts and even rest helped create a rhythm I could count on.
- Building my community in the gym, which motivated me to keep going
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The gym became more than just a place to work out, it was a place to clear my mind and feel strong again, physically and mentally. Seeing familiar faces there created a sense of belonging I didn’t realize I needed.
- Putting My mental health first
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I realized I couldn’t pour from an empty cup, so I stopped ignoring the signs of burnout and started listening to myself. Therapy, journaling and taking breaks became just as important as any class or exam.
- Calling my family and best friends when I just want to vent
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Sometimes, all I needed was to hear a familiar voice on the other end of the line. Their love grounded me, reminded me of who I was and helped me navigate who I was becoming.
- Developing connections with my professors
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I started seeing them not just as teachers, but mentors, people who believed in me when I was unsure of myself. Their support went far beyond the classroom and still does, even four years later.
- prioritizing genuine deep connections over social status
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I stopped chasing the loudest rooms and started looking for the people who felt like home, those who asked how I was really doing. The connections I built this way are the ones I know will last well beyond graduation.
I built my village from strangers, strangers who became friends, mentors and family. I didn’t find myself all at once, but in all the small moments of growth, discomfort and joy.
And now, four years later, I leave not just with a degree, but with a stronger sense of who I am and where I’m going. I share this in hopes that it resonates with anyone still trying to find their footing, whether you’re just starting college or halfway through and still figuring it out.
Growth doesn’t happen overnight, but it does happen. Be patient with yourself. You’re building something, too.