When a kid goes to college, there is almost always a level of homesickness that they will experience. It’s a natural part of growing up and leaving the nest. Yes, there are always exceptions, but in general, every college student deals with homesickness. But many kids, at least here in the states, are able to go home for Thanksgiving since it’s either a train or short plane ride away.

But there are other kids for whom this is not so easy. My parents and younger sister live in Belgium and my twin brother lives in England. I get to go back to Belgium once a year and I see my family twice a year. That’s all I get. Once at Christmas and once in the Summer. Other than that, I rely solely on FaceTime to talk to my family.

The summer I graduated, my family and I came to Philly for our annual trip to see my extended family (my Dad’s side of the family) for three weeks… Well, my parents and siblings stayed for three weeks. I was going to stay because that fall, I was going to be starting college, and the flights had worked out best that way. When the three weeks were up, I went to the train station with my family, and said goodbye to them and then they were gone.

For the rest of July and August, I spent my time with my grandma and aunts and uncles and cousins, all the while preparing to move into my dorm at the end of August. That summer was tough for me. I never wanted to admit it, but I suddenly felt incredibly alone, and like I wasn’t being understood. I felt that my extended family just didn’t ‘get’ me, not like how my immediate family did. But eventually, I was able to move into my dorm.

I was so excited when I first got to college. I went to international orientation which fed into normal orientation and then classes started. It was a whirlwind of activity and excitement for me. Plus, they way my schedule worked out first semester, I always had a break at the perfect time so I could talk to my parents basically every day. I had a wonderful roommate and was making friends and I barely thought of home. Yes, I missed it, but in a more distant way.

Then right before Thanksgiving happened, things started to change. My mental illness started to act up, midterms were happening (even though I can handle academic work...art school midterms are very different), and Thanksgiving/my birthday was coming up. I suddenly got extremely homesick. I had never spent my birthday without my twin at least, and I didn’t have someone I trusted enough/someone who I thought knew me enough to help me deal with stress.

Of course, the Facetiming helped… and I started therapy again (provided by the school). But then when Thanksgiving break actually happened, I experienced homesickness to a crazy degree. Even though I was with family, it wasn’t the same at all. I missed my parents and siblings so incredibly much. I felt that no one in America understood me like they did. I spent Thanksgiving with my extended family, and with a pinched nerve in my back. I ended up crying more than once, missing my family so much.

And it didn’t go away until I was on the plane to Belgium ready to see my family for Christmas. Yes, it wasn’t all bad. I had some fun times with my roommate and friends between thanksgiving and Christmas, but I still felt homesick every day. When I was finally on the plane, I was so excited that I could barely stay still the whole ride, and my motion sickness didn’t affect me as much as it usually did. Finally, after 7 hours, my plane landed and I was almost racing through customs (yay for being a Belgian citizen because I moved through customs quite fast) and restlessly waiting for my bag. When it finally came, I literally ran out of the baggage claim area and into the front of the airport where people get picked up. And then I was in my family's arms, finally.

That Christmas break completely re-energized me, and I was excited once again when I got back to college for my second semester. Second semester had it’s ups and downs, but I had been cast in a show and I was very busy. Plus, by this point, I had begun taking medication to help with my mental illness and was feeling much more balanced in my life. Yes, I was homesick, but not to the degree I had been. And when summer rolled around, my family came to us for 3 weeks and even helped me move into my apartment.

Suddenly, sophomore year hit, and while I was fine at first, life happens. I started working a work study job, and so my days became packed, and there was no longer time to call my family regularly. And then stuff happened at the church I was going to (which I explained about in my article titled ‘Panic Attacks in the House of God’) and my depression and mental illness came back full forced after the trauma.

My life felt as though it was crumbling around me. I was in a rut at school and my work study job is hard and I still have trouble with all the things I do at the job, and I felt so alone and couldn’t talk to my parents about it. My homesickness was at an all time high.

One night, I did finally get to talk to my parents, even though it was late for them, and I ended up sobbing. I had already cried in class a couple times, but I hadn’t sobbed like I did with my parents. When I called them, I told them honestly “I want to kill myself.” Granted I prefaced that statement with “Just telling you, I would never actually do this but…”

My parents talked with me and gave me what I needed, which was someone to understand how hurt I still was. At one point my father suddenly could feel how much pain I was in and he started to cry himself. He and my mom even told me that if I really couldn’t handle my life, then I could always come home. There was always an option for me to come home. My parents assured me that if I thought and prayed about it and thought I needed to come home, they would put me on a plane as soon as they could.

And I’m not going to lie. I honestly considered it. My life felt like it was coming down all around me and all I wanted to do was run away and run back into the safety of my parents' arms. But there was a part of me that was saying that if I did go, that would be accepting defeat, and that I was strong enough to keep going.

This was a couple days ago. I got to speak with my parents again and made the decision that I was going to stick it out and wait to see how I felt when I went home for Christmas. But even now, as I’m writing this, I know I will not stay home, no matter how much the little girl in me wants too. I am here at this school for a reason, and I will see it through.

I will never regret the decision I made to move 4,000 miles away from my family. It’s made me a better and stronger person. I miss my family daily, and it’s like a physical pain in my body. But I am supposed to be at this school. I’m supposed to go through what I currently am going through, and ultimately, I know I will always have a place at home, but I need to do this in order to become the adult that I want to be. I’m going to be 20 in a month or so. I will always love and miss my family, but I’m at the starting point of a lifetime making a change in the world. And I will not accept defeat, no matter how weak I feel. I am alive for a reason, and I want to find out what that reason is.