When I moved away to college, I remember packing my boxes weeks ahead of time. My summer of adventure was over and so was high school. I paced around, day after day, eagerly waiting to move into the dorms in a large city about six hours west from the tiny Pennsylvanian town I’d spent the last decade of my life in.

As a typical incoming Freshman, I was ecstatic to meet new friends, my roommates, and dive into my nursing courses head on. As the semesters went on, the feelings of eagerness were lost. It took me a year away from home to realize that my place was not at this university or in the nursing program. After realizing, I made the decision to transfer closer to home. I found a program that I loved, job opportunities, internship opportunities, and a joy that I did not have prior. A feeling that told me I am in the right spot.

My first year as a transfer student was/is an odd one (it ends in about 10 days). My program at my new university is a small one, so most people had interacted with one another at some point or another. I felt like it was my Freshman year all over again. I’ll never forget having to ask someone where the library was and them staring at me like I had two heads. Or talking about a long haul on campus, then being informed there was a bridge that would literally cut the time in half.

When I first went into the transfer process, it was a new ballgame. I had made a lot of great friends and memories from my first university and was nervous about doing everything over. Being nervous about the transfer process was a normal thing. Re-applying and awaiting my acceptance from a few universities was nail-biting, yet the only thing that gave me a light at the end of this dark tunnel in my journey through academia. There was frustration with transferring credits. How did I feel when finding out the organic and biochemistry course I slaved over my entire second semester would not transfer? The credit transfer process was nothing but a slew of emails between my potential advisor and me.

At my previous university, Friday classes seemed to be non-existent. I’d grown accustomed to three day weekends (apparently, this is not a normal thing at other universities). However, this was not the case when I came face to face with my full day of classes on Fridays. Scheduling my courses was rough in the beginning, but after switching my major and getting the fine details laid out it worked.

I was nervous about making new friends. It was not going to be as easy as it was when you lived down the hall. When you’re a text away from walking to the student union to grab Starbucks, or going towards the lofts to get a drink of bubble tea. The first weeks into my first semester of transferring seemed to drag on. Everyone was right though—I did make friends. I was not destined to be sitting in the corner of a lecture hall by myself for the rest of my college career. I made new friends.

Though, I did not lose the friends from my last. With means of communication today, I learned that if your friends want to stay in touch they will. I have been lucky enough to keep some of my friends from my time at the University of Toledo—though our interactions are mostly over social media due to everyone’s conflicting schedules, we make it work through funny snap chats and heartwarming meme posts on Facebook.

The last thing I learned through this whole ordeal was that I’d feel at home—eventually. It might have taken a semester or two, but I’d found a place where I seem to fit. After a year of being at this school, I’ve grown into the world of Youngstown State. It is a small campus, my major is even smaller, but it is a proud campus.