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Finding home

1 As a second-semester freshman, I still don't know everyone in my class.  I don't even know one quarter of the people in it. But something feels different this semester. I now find myself texting my roommate, "On my way home!!" after a long day of class as I climb the four flights of stairs up to my dorm room. That must mean something, right?

2 There is definitely something to be said about being a first-year college student. A new school is hard enough of a transition without having to adjust to living on my own. In the first semester, I couldn't even walk into the dining hall by myself because it was too large and intimidating, the faces too unfamiliar, and my own place in this new world was still very unknown to me. There were many things I was too scared to do, places I was too scared to go, and wherever I did go, I felt completely invisible. I had forgotten what it was like to be new. And it terrified me; it made me feel like I was doing something wrong, or worse, that I might not belong here.

3 The reality is, all things take time – especially growing up. Having never been away from home for more than two months, I didn't really know how to take care of myself. I certainly didn't know how to do my own laundry, among other things, and I leaned heavily on my parents to vent about my life and ask for advice – things that I should have been going to my college friends for. I did most of my homework in my room and I would only ask my hall mates to get dinner with me. If they weren't free, I most likely ordered in or picked up dinner and took it back to my dorm. For some reason, I was too scared to poke my head out of my shell and explore on my own. I didn't give myself the opportunity to even get to know my surroundings, so how could I possibly love them?