There are five months until graduation.
Five months until the cap and gown, the last exam, the start of the goodbyes — until the realization that graduation is the day that can be full of celebration, but also filled with a sadness that these past four years of college are actually over.
Everyone tells you it goes by quickly, but when you’re 18 years old, walking into your first college course, you tell yourself that four years is a long time. Until it’s not.
My college experience was far from linear. As all of my friends were moving into their dorms as incoming freshmen, I was living at home, attending community college in my hometown. When I was 18, I thought this would be the biggest setback, that I would be so behind in the “college experience” that everyone strives for.
Looking back, I realize that the college experience was a myth. Because who decides what is or isn’t the true college experience? When you’re 18, it’s hard to understand that your path doesn’t need to align with everyone else’s.
Two years of community college passed, and I transferred to the University of California, Santa Barbara. I met my best friends, tried new experiences, joined as many clubs as I could, studied abroad, and got to live in the best college town I could ever ask for.
However, when I start to think about the day I walk across that stage, I think about what happened to my 18-year-old self. Not the specific girl who blasts music with the windows down or makes a Pinterest board of her life —because she still exists. But the one who believed college would provide clarity, direction, and a clear arc of transformation.
At 18, college felt like a launchpad. At 22, it feels like a period of trial and error.
Growth toward graduation is Not Linear
Growth often feels ordinary in college, when you are surrounded by students figuring it out just as much as you are. Your experience carries your own rhythm. You arrive with momentum, learn intentionally, and connect quickly. You begin to understand time differently, because the graduation deadline is different from the ones before — an end to your educational life, and the stepping stone into a bigger world.
Growth didn’t always show up as achievement. Sometimes it showed up as patience, resilience, perseverance, or even defiance. Learning how to navigate new spaces while staying true to yourself was one of the hardest lessons I had to learn.
Over time, you realize this transformation isn’t about becoming someone entirely new — but about becoming more honest and accepting of who you have been all along. It’s about learning what matters most to you, what you value, where you spend your time, and who you spend it with. It’s about discovering that direction isn’t a single path, but a series of choices you feel confident standing behind.
At 18, success looked like having a plan. By 22, success feels more like knowing yourself truly.
There were moments of doubt, of course. Switching direction, recalibrating expectations, and questioning the timing of everything. Except those moments don’t feel heavy in hindsight, they feel transformative — part of a slow-burning experience we call life.
Looking back, my 18-year-old self expected certainty by graduation.
What I got instead was something steadier: adaptability. Self-awareness and gratitude for experiences that didn’t follow a straight line but still led somewhere meaningful.
The regrets that once felt large now feel small and human. Not signs of failure — just evidence of growth. There’s an understanding now that no college experience is perfectly optimized. That the value isn’t in doing everything, but in being present for what you did do.
And there’s a quiet pride in that.
Because the transformation did happen.
It happened in the way you carry yourself. In the way you think before reacting. In the way you’ve learned to build community, even when facing unexpected roadblocks. In the way, uncertainty no longer feels threatening, just open-ended.
So what happened to my 18-year-old self?
She grew up — but not in a way that erased her.
Her optimism is still there. It’s just steadier. Less about proving something, more about appreciating where you are. The confidence didn’t disappear; it deepened. It became less about having answers and more about trusting that you’ll figure things out.
You can still change your mind. You can go to school again. You can completely switch your path. Because your timeline does not align with anyone else’s. Your college experience didn’t, so why should your life?
My 18-year-old self thought college would change everything.
And it did. Not by turning me into someone new, but by revealing who I was becoming all along.