I thought I was ready for college. I’ve been packing away various items in a large green tub next to my bed. I’ve been planning purchases and ordering books and asking clarifying questions. I’m excited for the new experiences and challenges.
I just took a look at the Welcome Week schedule, and was hit with the sudden realization that I am not ready.
I have been undeniably sad for the past few weeks (months, even). I know I don’t like change and that the upcoming life changes were (and are) hard for me.
I’m not ready. I don’t want to leave my parents. I love my parents. I need my mom and my dad. I need hugs from people I can trust. I need talks with my daddy and reality checks from my momma.
I don’t want to leave my church. Sure, I don’t feel as if I’ve been growing there, but my church is where my mentor is. Some of my closest friends. Some friends I’m just beginning to get to know. Some wonderful adults that still have knowledge they could pass on to me.
I don’t want to leave my Robotics team. Yes, I’m tired of going to meetings and having responsibility there. But I have friendships there that are coming to a close, along with this time in my life. I don’t want them to.
I don’t want to leave my cousin. For goodness sake, any time I give that thought enough genuine time in my brain, I burst into tears.
I’ve already left my school and lost the majority of the shallow friendships I had there.
What kind of psychotic idea did I have to go to a college almost four hours from home? For crying out loud, I had never even put gas in my car on my own until a week ago. I think I’m ready to go off and be an adult, all by myself? Manage my money and my time?
It’s not even that Welcome Week sounds all that bad. It’s designed to acquaint new students with the campus, each other, and to build community. I just keep seeing drop-off day playing in my head. My dad helping to get everything set up in my room. My mom, triple-checking that I have everything I need. Getting in my last hugs, and watching them leave, just like they do every time they dropped me off at summer camp.
But this isn’t summer camp. This is my new life. A tiny room with no air movement. Classes I might not be able to handle. Decisions every day, all on my own. Routines and habits and being my own mom-friend.
Go to bed now, Lexi.
Don’t forget to set your alarm, Lexi.
Twenty more minutes of studying and you can take a walk, Lexi.
Don’t forget to eat, Lexi.
I know you hate communal bathrooms with a passion but you need to shower, Lexi.
And it’s scary.