Moving In (or, alternatively, I’m an Emotional Mess and It’s OK)

Warning: Experience may vary. Not as humorous as desired, but important (?)

For quite a few students, yesterday was their move-in day, myself included. It was hectic. A little emotional. Draining. For someone like me, who’s never been alone far from home for longer than a week, a year away is a daunting experience. So much so that, as my parents closed the door behind them, with lingering hugs and final goodbyes, and I sank down on my bed to think, I…didn’t feel much of anything. I didn’t cry, or desperately text all my friends, or call my parents immediately after.

I didn’t sleep well, either.

I feel a sense of loss, I suppose. I’m rather introverted, and losing my support system so quickly was a shock. Even now as I write this, I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet that I am a college student, and with that change I’ve gained an independence I’ve never had before, due to having stricter (but no less loving) parents. Instead, I can only focus on what’s been taken away: the privacy of my own space, the familiarity of my surroundings, the comfort of hanging out with people who know my quirks, my nuances, and can read my ever-changing mood. I thrive in consistency, familiarity, patterns; college just isn’t that.

But I know that it gets better. Or, at least, I have to strive to make it better for myself. I’ve lost things, yes, and it’ll take a while for me to go back into the swing of things. But if there’s one thing that my parents impressed on me before they left it was this: responsibility. I can cry. I can mope. But in the end, I am in control of my own experience. I just…have to carry on, or something.


Pictures help make what’s essentially a concrete block into a home. Well, I’m in BEST Hall so it’s not quite a concrete block but…pictures ease the transition.