When they're discussing the college freshman transition, people have a lot of cliché things they like to start their lectures off with. They'll warn about limited space of dorm rooms. They'll talk about the importance of a good diet and exercise (and what you shouldn't even think about eating in the dining hall). They'll give speeches about study habits and the significance of going to class. But there's one thing they'll tend to glaze over, and that's just how much it's going to hurt to leave the life and people you knew behind to start over. And that's the most important lesson there is to learn amongst the move-in chaos.

The decision to go to college, especially way away from home, is also the conscious decision to at some point say goodbye to life as you know it. You're essentially signing a contract, along with all the actual housing and financial contracts, that you're OK with leaving your room, exchanging last hugs with friends, kissing your dog on the head and connecting with family only through Skype and phone calls until you come home for a break a few months later. Though that's all a part of the decision to go to college, and though it's something that takes a few months to really sink in, the actually reality of leaving is something different entirely.

It starts when you're first beginning to pack things up in boxes and bins. When your iconic room decor pieces are taken down, and the walls are bare for the first time in a decade. It starts when you're visiting and going out with friends, and the "see you laters" turn to teary hugs and "I'll miss yous." It starts when you begin trying to explain to your dog that, despite the amount of dorm stuff accumulating in the hall, you aren't leaving forever. It starts when you start counting lasts. Last dinner. Last day home. Last time mom does your laundry. Last car ride. Last night in your own bed. Last hug. Last goodbye.

And it's hard. One goodbye doesn't cut it.One hug doesn't feel like enough. You could hold on forever, and it'd still feel too short. Your chest hurts. Your eyes sting with tears. Your heart aches. You cry and you hug and you try to convince yourself you're making the right decision. And then, you leave.

And while in that moment, and on that car ride, you might still cry and you might still wonder if this is the right choice, something will start to change. The mindset starts to shift when you realize that, yes, this is for real, and yes, you are doing this. And it becomes a less heartbroken and more hopeful outlook.

You get ready for the new ride ahead. You get settled into your dorm, and even as that pang of sadness hits while you start to decorate your new corkboards with old pictures, you smile. You send texts and letters, you Skype and call. You stay connected, but you keep moving forward. Then one day, you stop counting lasts, and start counting firsts.

First night in your dorm. First time meeting your hall mates. First night out. First day of class. First day exploring. First time starting over.

The tears stop, and while the longing for home and the people waiting there never goes away, it doesn't stop you from living your new life. You don't spend every waking moment updating old friends on what's going on. You start making new ones. You don't try to recreate the world you left. You make your own. You miss how things were, sure. But that doesn't mean you aren't looking forward to what's ahead.

You're still trying to adjust, but you're figuring things out. Things aren't as familiar here as they were at home, but if they were ... what would've ever been the point of leaving? You're making friends, adapting to this new college world and trying to find your footing for whatever's coming your way next. It's a chaotic change, sure. But no one said it couldn't be a fun one.

You're moving on and moving up. You're finding your people and finding yourself. You're learning things you never imagined in a place you never thought you'd be. Then one day, you stop counting lasts and firsts.

You only count the days until you get to hurry home and start to tell the story of what's happened since you left.