This statement has a negative connotation. In TV shows, it’s murmured by the hero’s exasperated parents, who are shaking their heads with disappointment. In movies, it’s spat by a best friend who has been betrayed. In romance novels, it’s cried out by the main character’s significant other when she leaves him for her true love.

But why is change such a bad thing?

In high school, I was hyper-focused on my path to college. I skipped social events to study for my exams and the SAT, committed to extracurricular activities that filled my schedule, and sometimes would even bring my homework to family or holiday dinners. I’m proud of myself for what I did in high school and my social life was never severely lacking, but I consciously sacrificed a lot of experiences in the hopes of getting into my dream college.

Going into my freshman year, I was determined not to put my social life on the chopping block like I did in high school.

I was moving a thousand miles away to a new city to start college, and I knew there would be endless possibilities to meet new people and try new things.

During my first quarter, the conflict between a social life and academics bubbled up constantly. Obligations for my sorority arm-wrestled with the looming stress of the homework that I had due in a couple of days. My mental plan for what I was wearing to a party was trailed by the comforting thought of finally catching up on my assigned reading. Plans for a road trip to an away football game tangled with reminders of the exam I had on Tuesday like the pair of headphones at the bottom of my purse.

Still, I consistently kept the promise that I made for myself and tipped the scales towards creating new experiences. I went to exchanges and met people from other sororities and fraternities, had a fun night out with my friends, and went out of town to tailgate and watch my football team beat our rivals by almost fifty points.

When I visited home, spending time with my friends and family felt different than it had before. They were skeptical about my decision to rush a sorority and made fun of the new slang I had picked up from the Pacific Northwest. It didn’t help that I was forgetful in answering texts and FaceTimes; all they really saw from me was what I posted on social media, or told them during the rare times we could see each other in person.

It made me uncomfortable to think that going into college had turned me into a different person. I didn’t share a lot of what I was doing with my friends because it started to feel out of character. It confused me even more that the only time I felt uncomfortable about what I was doing was when I talked to some of my old friends, not my new ones.

It took a long time for me to realize that what was happening wasn’t such a negative process.

I wasn't just changing — I was growing.

I was growing better at time management and could balance my social and academic life better than I had in high school. I was growing better at branching out, so I was meeting more people and having a larger circle of friends. Even the friendships I was making seemed more tight-knit because I was growing better at sharing my emotions and feelings with others.

I’m glad I’m not the same person I was in high school. I’ve become more responsible and mature, and I've learned that growth comes with discomfort; that's why it's called "growing pains."