When I arrived at my university in 2013, I knew that my life was about to change. I was leaving my hometown for an extended period of time, the first time really doing so in my entire life, into this strange world of college life that I couldn't have even imagined. I didn't know what to expect, not because no one really knows what to expect when they leave for college, but because I had no one to look to to even remotely understand how the whole college thing worked. I am a first-generation college student, and though my family and friends tried their best to prepare me, none of us knew how to prepare me. But I was excited: excited to finally be doing something for myself, excited to embark on a new adventure, excited to start a new chapter on my life, excited to dive headfirst into a sea of uncertainty though I was always the one that never really cared for the "not knowing" aspects of life. And I did. I set off to begin what are the most transformative years of my life.
But early on, I knew that adjusting to this new would would be difficult. I came from a single-parent household with a low socio-economic status, from a school district that really didn't prepare me for the rigor of my college's coursework (I had so many incredible teachers, but I think mentally I wasn't prepared for the academic rigor), from a background filled with traumas that I tried to bury, from a family whose ties were weak, from an entirely different world and state of being. Though I always carried the mindset that I would make it out of that town and finally become the person I wanted to be and start a new life, it's hard to actually carry that out when you feel so alone. Attending an expensive private university, I should have anticipated that it would be difficult to find people to relate to, to find a niche in which I belonged, but the first year, I held on to my rose-colored glasses and thought that it could only go up from there. That first year, I was constantly surrounded by people, but I still felt very alone, because my life experiences could not relate to the life experiences of the people around me, and when you can't find things in common with the people around you, it's hard to build true, lasting friendships. I did have friends that first year, that I actually did stuff with, but as time went on, those friendships disappeared, and once again I was left alone, trying to find a place where I belonged. I felt like an outsider, and I understood that it was the way things were going to be. The university's environment and culture was not built for people like me, and that would be something I would have to confront and adapt to in the coming years.
Recommended for you
That feeling of isolation continued into my second year. I had grown so much personally during my first year that I tried to just shrug it off. I would tell myself that the reason I didn't really have connections was people because I was finding myself, and improving the base on which those connections would be based. At the same time, I began to feel separated from the life I left behind in my hometown. I realized that I could not longer relate to the people I once felt extremely close with, because I had changed, and was in the process of adapting to a new set of cultural values and ways of life. I would go home, not really recognizing the life I once led, and would feel like an outsider. I didn't really belong there either. And I felt stuck.
It became even more apparent when I returned from my abroad experience my third year that I was caught between these two worlds. One that I grew away from in an attempt to find myself, the other in which I didn't feel like I could ever be accepted as a member of. I felt guilty for leaving my own life, but knew that I needed to start anew. But at the same time, I didn't feel that I deserved to try and enter this new culture and new way of life because historically, people like me have been barred from ever reaching that culture to begin with. We've always been seen as less than. And though I've come to terms with the fact that I will never be a part of either world fully, it's hard to feel like I am moving forward, that I am not at a standstill, when I feel like I don't really belong anywhere.
Upon a lot of self-reflection, I realize now that being stuck between these two worlds doesn't have to be a bad thing, a thing to lament. I realize now that I never really fit in back home to begin with, but I am holding on to the few real connections I do have there. I've changed so much that I've moved further and further away from the person I used to be there. Do I really want to go back to the days that I thought so low of myself? Do I want to go back to the days where I was bullied because of who I was and tried to justify the bullying by dwelling on my imperfections? I'd rather be stuck between two worlds and be able to see how badass I am, and all the personal development I've made over the past couple of years.
At the same time that I'm growing closer to the other world, I still remain outside of the gates. I'm not completely sure if I want to enter those gates. I think I'd rather continue to fight for what I believe in and be the change. Rather than join a culture doesn't always welcome people like me with open arms, I'm reminded by my gratitude to fight and change the culture from within so that people like me, and everyone else can feel worthy and find a niche in which they belong.
So am I stuck between two worlds still? Definitely, but that doesn't mean I can't forge my own path and create a new world. While the initial journey to do so is lonely, I hope to find others wander along my path someday. The journey will be difficult, because support is the glue that keeps us together. Our relationships with the people around us change us in so many different ways. Though I feel alone in my journey right now, knowing that I might encounter others who are also looking for their glue gives me hope.
