As Fifth Harmony said, “everything is changing and I never wanna go back to the way it was.” For all the things I’m going to miss about my hometown, high school, and early teens, who I was three years ago won’t be one of em. Don’t get me wrong, I’m super grateful for the people I’ve met and the memories I’ve made, but after quite literally the best semester of my life, I have plenty of regrets about the other six.
In three words: lack of balance. I didn’t have much of it the last three years (my own fault tbh) but I’m thinking maybe I can turn it around for this last one. I’ve always grouped lifestyles into mutually exclusive categories. To me, social and academic couldn’t co-exist. And not to be a debbie downer but oops too late I’m kind of already being one: I sacrificed a good bit of what I wanted to do in high school by convincing myself if time wasn’t spent working, it was being wasted. In hindsight, kind of toxic for a thirteen year old or even a thirty year old but hey! you live and you learn! It was nothing too crazy but I think the mentality caused me to miss out on a bunch of life lessons/skills that I really wished to experience before college. I’m trying to make up for lost time now though, so wish me luck as I cram four years of teenage angst into one semester!
Along the lines of life and school and all that jazz, I have to have to address college. My “thing” this year was to just not talk about it but I’m an imperfect human so I’ll admit, I’ve definitely gotten wrapped up in higher education talk here and there. And sometimes everywhere but trust that I definitely regret it afterwards. I’m still working on it so if you’re reading this—please hold me accountable! Not gonna lie I totally vowed not to write about college anywhere on my blog (which was originally supposed to be a fashion blog but I got lazy trying to keep up a theme … anyways I digress) but when it comes to senior year takeaways, it’s probably my biggest one. Plus I can always just delete this post at the semester’s end and wipe my blog clean of any evidence. It’ll be like it was never here.
If I could tell freshman me anything, it would be to not stress out about college so much. If I didn’t maybe I would’ve lived up to my pediatrician’s 5’11” prediction, became a world famous supermodel, and wouldn’t even have to go to college. My older cousins and friends always joked about how unmotivated and lazy they were in middle school (and 9th and 10th grade) but that junior year was when they really got down to business. They started taking shit seriously and threw themselves headfirst into the college application process. Some attended the college of their dreams and others the college of their despairs, but by and large the message I was getting was that the last two years of high school were crucial. Every waking (and non waking) hour of every day, I had to be focused on the prize if I wanted to achieve the ever elusive goal of obtaining a prestigious college acceptance.
If it wasn’t already obvious, my senior year self took that advice and ran 1000 miles in the opposite direction. Ok, maybe a thousand is a bit of an exaggeration—after all, my friends know me as someone who is very much conscious of the whole college admissions process. But trust me when I say my mind is a lot more distant (in a good way) and at peace these days.
My parents, bless their souls, have always insisted that it’s the person not the prestige that makes one successful. Although I nod along and remark that they’re just preaching to the choir, I haven’t truly internalized the notion until this year (to be fair, I haven’t really tried). I think part of it is that the expectations to be “successful” and “accomplished” have been steadily building up like a pressure cooker. Come August, I had two options: let it get to me until I exploded or open the valve and simmer down. And though I would’ve loved to have come to this conclusion earlier, I know that it simply would’ve been impossible. It took specific circumstances (senior year) and an environmental catalyst (quarantine) to consider that maybe the worldview ingrained within me wasn’t necessarily the best to believe.
Now, as I look at my college spreadsheet, I can picture a fun, fulfilling future at (almost … sorry to that one school you know who you are) every single college on that list. Whether I end up at my safety or get into a reach, I can finally, genuinely, say I’m excited for what the future holds. My type A, neurotic, older sibling personality isn’t going anywhere and contrary to popular belief, neither is my potential. I regret ever letting myself think otherwise.
Clearly, I’ve spent an embarrassing amount of time first semester complaining about the past: about what could’ve been and should’ve been but wasn’t and what I would’ve done differently if I hadn’t done what I did. But my mom has gotten a bit fed up as of late, and that’s definitely not a good sign considering she’s the most patient person I know. So with this blog, I’m gonna (try) to finally close the chapter on my regrets and (taking a page out of Baby Sugg’s book) give myself some grace. I can’t rewrite the past and I’ll certainly make some questionable life choices in the future, but I’ll aim to do so without regrets. You only get every day once and I’m #driven to squeeze the most out of them … even if it’s taken me 6434 to realize it.