Last First Day

So, today was the first day of my last semester in college. It’s my last first day. Maybe not ever, but for a while.

I expected this occasion to just pass me by in the usual first day whirlwind, but I unexpectedly had a lot of feelings surface last night, in a sudden and violent burst. All of those feelings were fear-based.

Last night, I curled up in the fetal position in my bed because I didn’t want to go to school. My mother wasn’t there, or I would have gone to her and whined out my refusal to attend – because for some reason, I had reverted back to a seven-year-old, with authentic whiny voice and all – which would have annoyed the shit out of her. I didn’t cook. I didn’t clean. I didn’t pack my bag last night or lay out my clothes, as an act of protest (which of course only made me late this morning). Somehow, I thought that if I acted like school wasn’t happening, I could prevent it from being my reality.

The main reason why I felt this way is because I don’t know what I’m doing with my life once this semester ends. I’m supposed to go to medical school. That’s what my family expects from me. And that was my dream too, long ago. But I’m not sure it is anymore. Which I guess is fine, in the grand scheme of things. However, the problem with being “not sure” is that it’s my last semester of undergrad, and everyone else around me has their plans figured out. So now I’m stressed out and I feel like shit.

My best friend is interviewing at top universities for a PhD program. Most of my other friends have job offers from IT companies paying them a starting salary of at least six figures. Many more are going to medical school or dental school. One of my roommates is working at an animal hospital before she starts vet school next fall. Whatever it is, these people know what they’re next move is. And I don’t. Logically, I know it is better for me to continue taking my time to figure out a career that will work well for me instead of jumping into the first interesting-sounding thing and handing some strangers all my money. (The latter is my natural tendency, and while it has given me a lot of fun past hobbies to put on my CV, it isn’t the most advisable way to choose a career.) But emotionally, it’s a tough thing to live out. It makes me wonder if I should just close my eyes, point to a career catalog, and get this over with already. Most of my friends are going to hate their jobs, why can’t I be one of them?

The other thing that made me anxious was the idea of being around other people again. The whole break, I only spent time with family and friends. They were familiar to me, and the number of them was manageable. The thought of suddenly being on a campus with thousands of other human beings just there, existing around me, stressed me the fuck out. I was also terrified that I would meet someone new and then open my mouth and reveal exactly how neurotic and forgetful and obtuse I can be. Or say something in class that was stupid or got misinterpreted as offensive. These fears sound illogical, but I don’t know, man – I was just damn scared. It was as if I had never done this before.

But, in a surprising turn of events, the first day back was actually: NOT THAT BAD! What all my fears had made me forget was how much I just enjoy learning. That’s the whole reason why I’m here – to learn. I love the feeling of losing myself in the discovery of something. I love making connections in my brain; things that feel novel and exciting. I love the feeling of making a new realization about the same old world, and feeling that truth sit in my bones. Feeling how the world is just a little different afterwards. Being someone who learns isn’t just something that fulfils me; it’s a part of who I am. And when I don’t feed that part of myself, or I forget that this is who I am, I tend to shut down in subtle (but noticeably dysfunctional) ways.

I’m so glad that I was able to walk around campus and just be comfortable thinking inside my own head again. This wasn’t the case last semester; I spent so much time thinking outwards, about what other people were doing or thinking, that I didn’t make a very satisfying relationship with my own thoughts. I guess I must have made a lot of progress in therapy because I now feel like I can build a relationship with myself that feels right in my bones. Like something within me is realigning again, and I get to be myself, live for myself, think for myself. I’m not sure how much sense that made, but it’s how I feel and I can’t think of a better way to explain it. It’s like I’m starting to feel at home in my being again, and I could cry at how good it feels. Maybe I should cry – a healthy catharsis never hurt anyone.

Of course, there were still moments throughout the day when I thought of my friends and their jobs, or how strange and fat I looked, or how awkward and weird I can be when I talk. And move. And breathe. And yeah, I felt small and stupid and insignificant in those moments. But they were few and far between. Mostly, I felt relieved that my love for learning was strong and kicking. And I was glad that there was still an entire semester left for me to learn a whole bunch of interesting things. (I almost forgot to tell you that I actually freaked out in the middle of the day about how much I wanted to learn but wouldn’t have the chance to, and I signed up for, like, four new courses. And I decided to audit three more. So . . . we’ll see what happens. If you’re religious, pray for me.)

Basically, I did a hard thing today that ended up being much more enjoyable than I expected, and I learned something about myself in the process. Go figure. (It’s not as if that’s what all of my posts on this blog are about.)

Anyway, that was my day. How was yours? Did any of you have a first day of something recently? Was it scary or fun? Worse of better than expected? Let me know in the comments below!

Love y’all and hope y’all had a fulfilling day!