Dear Abby,
Your column last week made me deeply uncomfortable. Not because of anything you wrote, but because I hate thinking about how much has changed in my life over the past three years. I’m the type of person to avoid Snapchat memories because nostalgia hurts. I believe that people are meant to come into your life at certain times for certain reasons, and they rarely stay forever. That’s the sad pre-existing condition of life. However, I think reflecting is a good exercise, so I’ll engage in some exposure therapy.
Three years ago today, I was the happiest I had ever been. College was new. Every day was still an adrenaline rush. Even the freedom of walking down Washington Street for a bagel felt like a teenage rebellion. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever feel that “high” on life again. Just like you, Abby, I fell in love with people, life, and new experiences. I don’t think I managed the intensity of “newness” well. I associated “new” with forever, or perfect, or flawless. I truly believed that I had my next three years completely mapped out.
Two years ago today, I was healing from my first non-romantic heartbreak. I had learned that what feels good in an initial dopamine rush wave may not be healthy, especially when competing value systems are at play. I felt like I was starting over from scratch — the previous year was a distant dream, something that I could never look fondly on or even remember. I began to rebuild, throwing myself into my sorority and prioritizing making friends with strong and empowered women. Just like you, Abby, I switched my major out of SES and was progressing through my QSS coursework. I struggled with finding community in a tech-oriented school, and hoped that I would one day find people who cared as much as I do about the world. I started to have fun again and find where I thought I belonged. I met you, Abby. Someone in your sorority told me you switched into QSS. We had a brief conversation.
One year ago today, around this time, let’s say fall. I was complacent, too comfortable, and I had lost my drive. I was content with envisioning 12 different futures and not narrowing in on a plan. I was satisfied with my relationships and did not seek out new people or experiences. I don’t think I even visited New York at all that semester, something that I had previously loved. Every day felt the same, and I could never figure out what was wrong because everything was “perfect.” I began to ask myself, “Is this all? Is this as good as life gets?” I “met” you again, Abby. You know when you have campus characters that you occasionally see, and then more frequently, and sometimes, if you are really lucky, they become your friend. Becoming friends with you was the beginning of something I really needed, something different, and I felt empowered that I still had the ability to form new relationships.
Today I am a senior, and my world is completely different. I’m happier than I was freshman year, if only I could tell myself that the best was yet to come. This past year, I again left individuals and communities who did not reflect my value systems. This trend became more apparent in the state of the world. I leaned on you tremendously, Abby, and for that I am forever grateful. I’ve thrown myself into new relationships and communities that will fight with me and for others. I know my purpose now, and I have complete confidence that I control my own life, and only I can alter it and its impact on the world. I will submit my law school applications next week, and when I read over my personal statement for final proofreading, I smile. The path is not always clear, but each journey is a unique way of molding our purpose.
