Spring has quickly approached and Saint Louis University’s campus looks as vibrant and lively as ever. This time of year, people are slowly ushered outside with the weather’s gradual and unpredictable changes. Flowers begin to bloom, the fountains regain their identity as spaces of beauty rather than desolation and students find themselves enjoying the outdoors once again. One undeniable characteristic of spring is that it is a time of great change.
One year ago today, on a chilled April afternoon, I visited Saint Louis University for the first time. It was my last visit on a long list of potential colleges. Its primary competitor was a school that the majority of my high school friends were set on attending. A college in rural Illinois, surrounded by cornfields and nearly 40,000 other students was not the place that my heart was set on, but it was the place that would enable me to take the consistency of my past life into my future.
My relationship with change at the time was complicated. Life consisted only within the boundaries of Naperville, Illinois, where my childhood was spent secluded from the harsh realities of the world. Described by many as “snobby” and “stuck up,” the Chicago suburb excelled at shielding its inhabitants from the hardships of others with a lustrous facade. Epitomized by the allure of the city and the safety within its barriers, individuals seeking stability flocked here. Living there, I was never challenged by events or changes that would dictate the course of my life. I was not used to decisions with gravity and scared of change.
To rationalize this fear, I dug into old writings of mine from months before my departure to college:
“I am reminded once again of the impending change. A change so great, nothing will be the same come a year from now. I won’t be able to drive down the subtle twists and turns of my familiar neighborhood street with ease. The sense of permanency I have surrounded myself with will begin to collapse as I make this transition. My friends, family and school will no longer be a 2 minute’s drive away. I’ll have to navigate a different city with different people.”
Back then, my fear of change dictated my every action. I approached life reluctantly, looking backwards, my eyes set only on the past. I craved the simplicity and predictability of the times before. I tried endlessly to predict the motions of something beyond anyone’s knowledge: the future. One year ago, I was content to be a side character in my motion picture if it meant that I could observe change rather than endure it. Then, instead of cherishing life’s spontaneous adventures, I collected memories and lived only through my recollection of the past.
My fear of change instilled a looming pessimism that accompanied me throughout life’s greatest moments. Achievements like starting high school or gaining a license were merely reminders of my youth slipping away. Graduation was a departure from my familiar town, family and friends instead of an opportunity for a new beginning. My first day of college was not the privilege to start anew, it was the realization that everything from my life prior would exist solely in memories and infrequent phone calls. I carried my fear of change with me during times of celebration of opportunity and, as a result, received little from life.
Despite my reluctance towards change, I have learned to appreciate the eras of transition that my life has offered in the past year. A vital step towards this newfound acceptance was my love for the dynamic of city life, which St. Louis proudly offers. I indulged temporary bursts of spontaneity with trips to the city, where the lights didn’t sleep and neither did the people. I was, and still am, enamored with its lights, people, personality and pluralism. So, I decided to pack up my life to move and study in a city vastly different from my own. This was a decision with the potential to diminish important relationships I had made all throughout high school. My family would be several hours away, and I would be living in a city much different from my hometown. Most importantly this environment was one that offered significant change.
The first few months in St. Louis were grueling as I coped with severed connections and my new foreign environment. Casual connections from my past faded into infrequent conversations and unreturned texts. The initial desperate attempts to create new friendships at school became awkward and unnatural. Smiles shared in the elevator became a thing of the past as winter approached quickly. Yet, I slowly learned to relish the advantages that change had offered. Quickly, moments of loss became opportunities to grow, and uneasiness towards change became excitement.
It is important to appreciate changes as they are offered to us, even when its expenses include loss. I urge my readers to find happiness in the transition from morning to night and in the changing seasons. Do not allow yourself to dismiss new fortunes by holding a mindset that rejects change. Enable yourself to see a change in a different light, and open yourself to the advantages that change offers in mysterious ways.