The long march

If my life were ever set to music, August of my freshman year would be a solitary cello. Yes, it was that bad. 

Even a rough idea of what I wanted to study as I came to IU didn’t save me from the usual freshman malaise, which can settle on the shoulders of new students as the glitter wears away.

For starters, I’d become marginally involved with a girl I’d met, and after everything blew up, I arbitrarily decided that she meant a great deal to me and that the breakup hurt me terribly.

Meanwhile, the group I’d cobbled together out of survival friendships seemed hell-bent on scoring invites to parties that were measurably un-fun. Standing in the back of a room groaning under the weight of empty Keystone cans, asking people standing near you what they’re majoring in, encouraged by others to stay because ‘dude, there are gonna be chicks at this party – chicks, dude!’

Inside the classroom, things weren’t much better. I assumed that if I just talked to my professors they’d immediately recognize my brilliance and invite me to their offices to discuss the various honors they were going to recommend me for – a high ambition for a kid who was late even to classes he enjoyed and submitted most Webwork assignments at the exact minute they were due.

I began to suspect myself of narcolepsy, and I think the history department did too.
I wanted to transfer almost immediately. My particular complaints about college might have been derivative to the point of ridiculousness, but then again, freshman depression is so much harder precisely because it’s so common – everyone goes through it, so no one takes it seriously after they’ve dealt with it.

But to you, what’s happening is monumental, and depression never realizes its order of magnitude within the world.

Three years later, I’m quite happy with how things are going for me at IU. But if there’s some magic ingredient that made all the difference, some nugget of wisdom I received along the way, it didn’t make an impression on me.

Like most people, I only narrate my life when it’s particularly miserable, and like most people, it was bad, then it wasn’t any more. It’s hard to remember why.

I found a department I liked. I got involved in some activities and made friends. I guess all I can say is I kept going, and eventually emerged in a better place within IU.

If there’s any secret, it’s this – you just have to keep going.

Now, as a resident assistant, I see students battling the same things I did and, admittedly, struggle with how to explain it.

At the end of the day, all you can say is that, like most things, you need to just give it time, focus on what’s important and realize that if freshman year was the best year of your life, the rest would be all downhill.

Most of us are lucky enough to be better than that.