The Truth

Originally, I made this blog to remind myself of the good things that occur in my life. I have not written anything recently because I have been struggling with telling the honest not sugar-coated truth. I have had so many great adventures in the past few weeks. I have gone to the coast with my cousin, traveled to Sacramento with the best teammates a girl could ask for, and have taken advantage of the delicious food in Portland. In the past month, I have laughed to the point of tears more than I did the entire first semester. I could focus on these highlights and let my five followers be assured I am loving life. But I am sick of this false reality that is portrayed on social media. I will check Snapchat or Instagram and see my friends looking like they are constantly having the time of their lives. But what you don’t see is when they have hit rock bottom or crying themselves to sleep.

I am not going to lie first semester was rough. I was across the country in this foreign place I was trying to call my home. I would get lonely and have a horrible habit of checking my phone. I would see all my friends living it up. They would be visiting each other on the weekends and see familiar faces on campus. I felt like were all continuing life together but I was being left behind. I started to get into a slump and before I knew it, I was pretty depressed. I kept my feelings mainly to myself, because I didn’t want people to know I was struggling. If they would have known the truth, they would as a result worry about me and I didn’t want to put that stress on anybody. I couldn’t help but wonder if I made the right college decision. It would have been so much easier to go to a school close to home. I would already have friends, I wouldn’t have to go through the stress of making all new ones, and I could have the option to get away for a weekend by going home.

Although this was the farthest move I have ever made, it was not my first experience of living in a new place. My move to Charlotte, North Carolina from Omaha, Nebraska in seventh grade was not a walk in the park by any means. I remember my childhood friends saying, “I will always remember you” but honestly that was like a stab to the heart. I didn’t want to be remembered. I wanted to still be part of their lives. I got so stressed out that I would break out in hives every day before I would get to school. I tried so hard to fit in that I felt that I lost my identity. Although a horrible time in my life, I had always thought that it happened for a reason. I felt that something would come up and I would need the experience of my seventh-grade failure because I would be stronger because it took place.

College came around and I was sure that this was the time my previous struggles would be useful. But the truth is moving to me never got easier. It was just as hard as it was in seventh grade, possibly even harder because I didn’t have my family to come home to. To me, first semester was a failure. But when I came home for winter break I finally got to have heart to heart talks with my friends about their first semester college experience. Their responses were nothing what I expected. Due to their social media posts, I assumed they were loving their college decision, but it was the opposite. Most were feeling the same as me. I wish we all would have been more open about it, because I wouldn’t have felt so alone or that something was wrong with me.

Getting on the plane to go back for second semester was probably one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. I am not usually one to cry in public, but on this occasion, I was a train wreck. From the moment I hugged my mom goodbye in front of the security check, I could not hold it together. I just kept telling myself that I just had to make it to the point where they turn off the lights in the plane so I can secretly cry to myself. That moment came but only lasted roughly two minutes before they turned the cabin lights back on for maintenance issues. When they came on and the person next to me could clearly see the stream of tears going down my cheek and his face was priceless. He looked concerned but also did not really want to deal with my dramatic situation. We deplaned and I was able to sprint to the bathroom and try to hide the fact that I just cried out every drop of water in my body. I was given the option to stay home and wait for a flight out the next day or go to Denver and wait there for a day. Every part of me wanted to return home to my parents, but my Dad made the executive decision that I should get as close to Portland as I can.

I landed in Denver and my brother, Kevin, picked me up from the airport. That plane delay was such a blessing in disguise. For the first time in a while, I focused on the present. I was so content just driving around Colorado and hanging out with my brother. It was like a breath of fresh air from the daunting feeling of second semester. Once I finally arrived in Portland, my other brother, Ryan, picked me up. We had one of the realest talks I have ever had in my entire life. I opened up about my recent depression and found out he struggled through the same thing. That is the greatest thing about oldest siblings. They go through life before you and test the waters. It was nice being able to talk it out with someone who truly knows me and how I operate. He really changed my perspective and gave me the courage to take on my challenges head on. But also reassured me I was not alone in this and that he had my back no matter what. I am so thankful for both of them and do not know what I would do without them.

I am so glad I came back to this weird place of Portland. I would have missed out on so many memories. But I still have days where I look at flights home and fight the urge to impulsively buy a ticket. This experience has caused me to learn a lot about myself and my previously lost identity. Ever since I was little I have had a fear of people leaving me. I was so used to people coming into my life and then right when it is getting good, leave.  And I would just sit and wonder what I did wrong or why God took them away from my everyday life. I finally realized that in most cases it was me that left. I was the one that usually moved. I am a wanderer and that is just who I am. Only seeing my high school friends and family twice a year or my childhood pals once every two-years sucks. But I get to meet so many new people and experience a lot of unique things. My family and friends are always there when I return, and I just have to learn to truly cherish my time with them because I know it is short. The amount of time I spend with the people I truly care about in my life should not define our relationship. The best types of friendship are the ones that the moment you are back together you pick up, like you never left. God has blessed me with so many people in my life already and I cannot wait to meet more through the opportunities He has given me.

In the beginning of my second semester, my Dad sent me a speech about failure. It was one of those articles where you read them at the most relatable time in your life. So, I thought I might share it, in hopes that someone else finds comfort in his words. Nick Foles, the Super Bowl LII MVP, who had previously lost his starting job and considered retiring said “I think the big thing is don’t be afraid to fail. In our society today, with Instagram and Twitter, it’s a highlight. It’s all the good things. When you look at it, you have a bad day, you think your life isn’t as good, you’re failing. Failure is a part of life. It’s a part of building character and growing. Without failure, who would you be? I wouldn’t be up here if I hadn’t fallen thousands of times, made mistakes. We all are human. We all have weaknesses. Just being able to share that and be transparent.”

I am not perfect, but I am content with my life at this moment. Without my failure of first semester, I would not be where I am today. It took me a while to embrace my mistakes and it is something I will have to keep working on for the rest of my life. Part of the process is not bottling them up. I do not want his blog to just be highlights because, although it may seem ideal, it isn’t real life.

Until my next high or low,

Erin