When I look back at my four years at the University of Michigan, there’s a hell of a lot that I’m proud of. My GPA. My work with my on-campus internship with U-M’s social media department. The amazing leadership experiences I’ve had in my sorority, as well as on the executive board of the Panhellenic Association. I’ve been at bars into the wee hours of the morning and made it to barre class at 7:30 the next day. I’ve played a lead role in a Shakespeare show in Nichols Arboretum, spending countless hours climbing trees and jumping in mud in the name of theatre. I’ve officiated a condom-balloon blowing contest as part of a live Rocky Horror Picture Show. I’ve spent way too much of my money on Americanos at Espresso Royale and spent way too much time debating who to ask to a date party. I survived the norovirus outbreak of 2016 (worst 48 hours of my life). I have not finished a fish-bowl by myself (probably for the sake of my health). I remember when Weiser was Dennison and when Arbor Blu was a parking lot. I remember getting my acceptance letter and thinking about the blank canvas of four years that awaited me.
Four years. I thought. That’s so much time.
But now? I’m here. A senior. Midway through my penultimate semester at U-M, and quite frankly, I’m terrified. Not of the things you might think — moving out into the real world, getting a job, making more friends, acclimating to life in a new city. I have enough trust in God and the universe that those concerns will eventually fall away. So what’s the problem? What’s the root of my fear?
The fear that maybe, just maybe, I experienced college the correct way.
There’s something pretty liberating about senior year. A lot of the social and environmental pressure that seemed so salient in the earlier part of college falls away — at least it did in my case. You begin to relinquish the things that don’t really serve you. You can dedicate your time to pursuits you truly care about. You know what you like to do, where you like to go, who you spend time with. You have a routine, a rapport with the people and places you frequently come across. It’s comforting, it’s exciting. I should focus on these positives. I should focus on being there for the people and organizations I care about, and not dwell on the negatives. But there’s this gnawing feeling that I’m not doing enough. That I should spend each day chasing having experiences on this campus and in this city that I haven’t yet. The feeling that every second not checking something off a bucket list is a second wasted. That after these four years, I’m going to feel a lot of regret.
It’s the fear that yes, I fucked college up. And I’m going to regret it.
And for some odd reason I desire to relish my comfortable routines AND still have constant, bountiful new experiences; meanwhile I know the more memories I create in Ann Arbor, the sadder I will be to leave it behind. There’s a feeling that maybe I shouldn’t let myself get too attached because I only have a few short months left here at hoMe.
But maybe it’s not so black and white. Maybe I, and every other senior in my position, can find balance. Maybe we can spend as much time trying new things as we revisiting our favorite places again and again. Maybe we can grab a honey cinnamon latte at lab for the thousandth time while also exploring that hole-in-the-wall coffee shop a few miles up Packard street. Maybe there’s enough time to break into the Big House and spend our last few precious afternoons cheering on the Wolverines from the stands.
Maybe we just need to take a breath and have a little bit more trust. Maybe we didn’t fuck it up. Maybe we’re doing exactly what we’re supposed to be.
Photos courtesy of wordpress.com and the University of Michigan Health System.