I used to think college would be a lot like an episode of “Felicity.”
The late-night soul searches. The 3-a.m., post-party diner runs – and subsequent morning recaps over coffee. Switching your major from pre-med to art after a lot of thought and an unexpected epiphany. Falling in love, then falling out. Reading Kant, Aristotle, Rilke. “Finding” yourself.
When I graduated from high school in 2006, everything I idealized about going away to school, what I dreamed college would be like, was totally and completely reaffirmed during my first semester at UMass. I established the incredible, life-affirming friendships I had always hoped for, I joined a sorority and managed to earn a solid GPA, all the while honing a very healthy social life. Things were beyond great ¬– they were perfect. One day, it stopped.
The generally sheltered, naïve state I lived in through the age of 18 ended abruptly after my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer in December of 2006 – this incident, however, was merely the beginning of what would be a long series of lessons in growing up. The idyllic notions I had about how my college years might pan out were indeed reaffirmed, but I completely overlooked a very real, very important, very necessary and very obvious part of the maturation process: pain.
Without notice or really any conscious movement, I found myself stuck in the middle of some very complicated situations – learning the true faults of family members that were never evident during youth, heated arguments with friends I swore I’d never, ever, cut off ties with, and painstaking heartbreak. I faced my fate: It’s much easier watching Felicity Porter tell Ben off with such a sense of clarity, chop her hair off and deliver a beautiful, lyric statement about the facts of life, than actually emulating it myself. Pain, inexperience and my ever-present optimism sent me right through life’s wringer; there were far too many moments of defeat that left me disheartened and discouraged with the direction of things.
I learned very quickly that drowning in self-pity was a surefire way to land you absolutely nowhere. Because of this, I grew a thicker skin. I trained myself to roll with the punches. And I got realistic. Within a very short period of time, I said farewell to the old me and threw myself headfirst into a pool of opportunity that I full-well knew could bring more defeat, more pain and more discouragement. To that, I said “fuck it” – if it was my life’s personal agenda to force me to learn things the hard way, there was no way I was going to be an idle passerby. To achieve desired results and build character, always practice manipulating destiny.
“Remember that great love and great achievements involve great risk.” The anonymous mind behind this statement could not have been more insightful. If I take away a single sentiment from my time at UMass, it would be this. You don’t just have your four-year stint here for risk-taking; you have a lifetime.
Kirsten Swenson was the Collegian’s night supervisor. She can be reached at [email protected].
