V
aledictorian. Editor-in-chief.
Vice President. President. AP
Scholar. Lead Role. Part-time
job and God knows what else. This
describes high school me, like it does
for many of us on campus.
I had it all together in high school.
I put effort into everything I involved
myself in, certainly, but I always
received what I wanted: an A in a class,
a raise, a well-done project or
an emotional boost. As long as
I tried, I achieved my desired
perfection. I did not know my
high school had been on the
list of the worst performing
schools in Michigan until
I graduated, but even if I
had, I doubt that would have
scared my younger self when
preparing for my transition to
college.
I came to Michigan knowing
I would be challenged by
thousands of great minds,
many my age. I felt ready,
and was excited whenever
I thought about my new
“Victors
2021”
identity
—
especially
inserting
the
hashtag into my Twitter and
Instagram bios. I thought I
knew what I was getting into,
and felt extremely ready. “It
won’t be that bad,” I believed.
I quickly realized that I
didn’t know what I was doing.
I was challenged beyond
what I felt my brain capacity
allowed
academically,
mentally
and
emotionally.
Mentally
and
physically,
I
experienced
complete
drainage.
And to make things worse,
I believed I was the only
freshman who felt this way.
My sanity felt as though it had
been stretched so thin, like
how a rubber band loses its
elasticity each time you use it,
until eventually it just snaps.
Everyone else seemed to
have
their
academic
and
social lives together; good
grades, friend groups, club
acceptances and everything else I
couldn’t attain. While my consistent
lack of self-confidence didn’t aid in
these
frustrations
I
experienced,
I couldn’t understand what I was
doing wrong. I kept my nose in my
books while maintaining the balance
of seeing friends, writing for The
Daily and attending a party when
I could. I tried to get enough sleep
because I cannot function without
my eight hours. I checked every detail
of my resume as I sent it to clubs or
companies. I did everything everyone
else was doing, and perhaps even
more.
Yet, I was struggling to get where I
wanted while everyone else seemingly
zoomed past me.
“Why am I struggling even when I
put so much time into everything I do?
Why was I even accepted here?”
Many nights, I cried into my pillow
with these recurring thoughts. I
couldn’t understand why I felt I was
doing so horribly. I felt I was learning
more in a semester than I felt I had
learned in four years of high school.
Yet, when the time came around, I
became lucky if I earned an average
grade, even though I had prepared
more than many people I knew. My
peers went to me asking for help
with course material, yet they earned
higher grades than I did. No matter
what I did, I was not enough.
But, with this, my soul still felt
lost. I worked my ass off but wasn’t
rewarded like I was in high school. I
read my textbooks, went to class and
office hours, participated and studied.
I put the time into my academic
relationship with school. All of this
occurring while I slipped further
into the cracks of lacking self-worth
and confusion of whether I belonged
at this school. I loved Michigan but
thought Michigan didn’t love me.
I remember telling my mom in
many tearful phone conversations
that I wanted to drop out. I wasn’t
good enough for Michigan. I put my
academics first yet seemed like I
always finished last. I believed I had
failed myself. Others had everything
they could ever want, and I was
struggling to make it through.
However, after sobbing to three
friends about my stress when they
rushed to my room because they saw
my face soaked with tears
in the hall, I realized that
many students felt like I did.
They were also exhausted,
lost
and
confused.
They
experienced insecurity about
their academic readiness, and
began to blame themselves for
it, similarly to me. Even those
who I perceived to “have it
all” here at Michigan, came
forward to me that they felt
opposite of the image they
tried to portray.
I suddenly didn’t feel alone
or susceptible to self-blame.
I also reflected on the
positive experiences of my
first semester. Football games,
study sessions that involved
more laughing than studying,
numerous
Grilledcheezerie
macaroni sandwiches (I think
some of the drivers know me by
name), meeting amazing new
friends, sledding with laundry
baskets, having a squirrel in
my dorm, midnight walks
through Nichols Arboretum,
getting lost on North Campus
while
walking
back
from
buying Little Caesars and
other nights that I can’t talk
about in this article continue
to be some of many wonderful
memories.
Through just one semester,
I learned an important lesson:
If I’m putting in my best
effort, then the result that
comes out of this is all I can
do, and that’s okay.
We can’t expect ourselves
to perform more than we are
capable of. We will not be
able to solve complex math
problems when we haven’t learned
how to solve basic problems. We
won’t be able to accomplish goals if
we are not capable of accomplishing
them yet. It took me 18 years to learn
this, but thank God I finally did. This
experience saved my sanity.
My freshman bubble had been
popped, but with it came a healthier
and happier me.
Wednesday, January 24, 2018// The Statement
7B
ILLUSTRATION BY BETSY STUBBS
Popping the Freshman Bubble
BY RACHEL CUNNINGHAM, DAILY STAFF REPORTER