First Day of Sophomore: Overwhelming to Say the Least

The First Day of Literally the Hardest Year of My College Career

Well today was the day: the first day of sophomore year. I know my activity on this website has been pretty low, but I honestly do believe that I should be documenting the most pinnacle moments in my life, and boy was this one of them. I woke up almost two hours before my class, wore an actual dress with heels, my eyebrows actually made an appearance, and my overall confidence was through the roof. “I’m going to make sophomore year my bitch” was a phrase that would be ingrained in my subconscious over and over and over again. So when I arrived at my first class of the day, a statistics class with a focus in human physiology (my major), my confidence was absolutely through the roof.

After that class, a pointless physics lab, and studying for almost three hours in the basement of our main building, I began to comprehend what this year actually was. This was the drop period: the moment where almost fifty percent of my major class would switch majors because the classes and work load was too much for them. And realizing that absolutely shook my confidence to the CORE! Those self-empowering thoughts I had in the morning soon turned into thoughts of despair. “I can’t do this”, “You’re not smart enough for this major”, “Just quit now while you’re ahead”, “You’re going to crash and burn”. These thoughts were louder than screams, louder than thunder and lightening, louder than explosions five feet away from you. They were so loud that it would affect me physically, sending shivers down my spine and making me almost want to faint.

All of these thoughts, and I’ve literally only had two classes today.

My goals are pretty set: I want to help people. I know I have hands that were meant to heal. But sometimes I wonder why that one simple goal felt eons and eons away.  People are telling me not to worry, that these are the least of your problems, that I’m young and don’t know what it means for life to be hard for me. Sure, life will get harder for me, as it will for any human being, but I am living in the now; not the past, not the distant future, but NOW. And to be completely honest, I’m fucking terrified. I know I have people to back me up: my family who I love, my friends who I confide in, my advisor who encourages me to never give up. I have all these crutches for if I do end up falling, but that doesn’t make that terrible feeling inside you go away.

I’m honestly praying to whoever/whatever is in the sky playin games up there that I’m worrying for nothing; that everything is just a simple delusion in my way-too-psyched-out-mind.

My college years are supposed to be the best years of my life. I should be making mistakes, going to parties, hopelessly falling in love with random upper class boys only to have my heart broken a week later. Yet I’m afraid that most of it will be spent stressing out, having anxiety attacks, and wanting to give up when things get tough.

I honestly hate to say it, but only time will tell what will happen to me this school year.

A solid school year goal: too not fall apart.

Growing Up, “Adulting”, Becoming An Individual In Society: Why Is It So Fucking Terrifying

 The Big 2-0

At the end of this year, I will be turning twenty years old.


It didn’t really hit me until I was talking to a close cousin of mine. I was basically bragging about the fact that I was retiring the one in my age and stepping up in the world by replacing it with a 2 (as if it really is a big deal?) and I asked her about what she was doing when she turned twenty (she’s 33 right now). She then starts going on about how she was able to work full time while in community college, had a place of her own that she was able to pay off, and was some how able to stay fit, eat healthy, and maintain a healthy relationship with her then-boyfriend-now-husband. All of this was happening when she was twenty years old.

I was absolutely speechless.

I’m half-way through nineteen and where was I? A college student with a sea of debt rising to my neck, studying something that I thought I was passionate about but am not really sure, drinking Dutch Bros daily and eating Jimmy Johns every other day, and working a part time job at a pizzeria. I still ask my parents for money from time to time. I don’t feel like an adult at all. I still feel like a child.

I think back to my 17/18 year old self and wish I could slap that bitch silly for thinking that she was basically an adult. I remember feeling so high and mighty driving my own car that my parents bought, being able to afford the five dollar addiction that was caffeine, and carrying a handbag instead of a backpack as I roamed the halls of my high school. I thought I was the shit back then when I really wasn’t.

Turning twenty has made me realize that I need to get my shit together and fast. I hate the fact that I am so reliant on my parents because they have already done so much more than I believe they should. I want to become an independent, but I am not the only one that’s stopping myself from doing so. Society as a whole has made it so hard to become an individual. I remember hearing about some sort of triangle that represented life. Each corner represented a necessity: education, money, and a social life. It is impossible to have all three corners, but you could have two of the three. This represented living in society and how it was almost impossible to have it all. I feel like I currently possess the education and social life corners, but when it comes to money my funds are as dry as Donald Trump’s chapped looking lips. I want to have it all and still be happy with myself when I turn twenty, but I feel like it is nearly impossible.

Turning 20: The Gate That Leads To An Unclear Future

When I turned eighteen, I thought everything was as clear as crystal: I knew what college I was going to, I knew what I wanted to study, what I wanted to do after college, where I wanted to live in the future. For some reason I thought that figuring out your entire fucking future was as easy as creating a Pinterest wall. Once I turned nineteen, I realized the future I created so easily would not come so easy.

As I near the age of twenty, I realize that my futures is like wearing glasses in a sauna: foggy and unclear. For years ever since I was a little girl I was so sure of what I wanted to do in life: to become a doctor. That dream carried on for the next thirteen years, and I was so sure that while the journey would be hard, the goal could be achievable. But after my first year of college, I began to wonder if that dream was just that: a dream.

A part of that dream is still genuine to my heart. With my beautiful MD, I would travel the world and help those who didn’t have the basic health care that we have here. And I’m not talking like Spain or Belgium or any of those highly-developed areas. I wanted to go to places like the Middle East and Africa; places that were constantly at war and were destroying those hospitals that people needed. I still want to do all that very much, but the road to get there seems treacherous, as if I was destined to fail the journey.

If money wasn’t an issue, all I would want to do is travel, help others, and write. I feel like it’s those three things that really make me the happiest. If money wasn’t an issue, I genuinely think I would’ve dropped out of college by now and join some sort of volunteer group that aided Palestinians and wrote about my experiences.

But here I am: losing money as I gain an education to get a job that’ll hopefully earn me more money.

I am praying to whoever the hell is up there in the sky to make my twentieth a year of clarity, because I think that is truly what I need the most at the moment. I need to find a balance of all three things that I desire that’ll make me happy. Because no matter how nice riches and a successful career sounds, all I want is to be content in life and have no regrets (which I  know is humanly impossible, but hey, a girl can try right?).

I also want to grow as a woman when the big 2-0 approaches. I don’t have to become a fully independent person by the time I’m twenty, but even taking the first step would be fantastic. I want to grow emotionally, mentally, physically, and maybe even spiritually if that is what it’ll take to become my own happy individual in society.

So God, Allah, Buddha, Brahma, Ganesha, Zeus, or whoever the hell is ruling the skies above: please please PLEASE make this upcoming year a year of clarity and change. For the love of [insert deity]. Do it for your homegirl.