As I drive home from Columbus to Boston with my father, the 700ish miles have given me time to reflect on what has been the most difficult, impactful, and personal growth inflicting year of my life. Each year of college seems to have a theme and sequence of specific obstacles in which you must face to move on to the next.

Freshman year it was all about adjustment. Everyone was frantic to find a solid group of friends, get to know their new home, and basically want to look like they had their shit together to the rest of the world. Small update, you will never have your shit together in college-it is a constant whirlwind. Next is sophomore year, much like second year of high school, the awkward not-upperclassmen-but-still-know-more-than-underclassmen year where you are really even more confused than you were freshman year. Classes get immensely harder, pressure to know what you want heightens, and you can tend to feel a little lost.

For me, sophomore year started with the hardest semester comprised of calculus, chemistry, biology, and Italian. All of which, on their own were a headache, but combined could be categorized as a metaphorical migraine of tremendous proportions. The pain of academics was softened by football (and block) season, along with reuniting with my best friends in brand new dorms. School became miserable and I found no passion left behind the classes I was taking. The semester came to a slow end with a survival mentality towards finals. It was more about making it through the exams than excelling in them, something I was not used to feeling.

Second semester came and along with it, another chemistry course, physics, statistics and an abnormal psychology class that I had decided to take after hearing how much some of my roommates enjoyed it. One week in that class and I knew I was in the wrong major. I switched all of my classes to psychology courses and felt that I could breathe for the first time in two years. I was finally in classes that interested me enough to do further reading and investigations on my own time. Exams came easier, and I found my personal demeanor improving more than it had since high school.

The decision did not come easily or lightly; I knew what I needed to do, but needed the push from the people around me to actually do it. The stigma of being on a pre medical track is a difficult one to break, both personally and socially/outwardly. I did not stop this track due to the inability to complete it, but rather because it is not what I am meant to do, something I am still working to come to terms with. This decision was not a failure, instead, the biggest success I have had thus far at Ohio State.

Sophomore year was the year of discovery. The year of learning the art of self-forgiveness and love. The year of gratitude for the opportunities I have that others do not. And the year of strengthening the friendships I mean to keep for the rest of my life.

On to the next.