rooted
I need to go back to my roots. I don't know what I'm doing. Freshman year so far has been me feeling so so so uprooted. I've been physically uprooted from my home in California with the sun beating down on me to give me the encouragement and strength I needed to get through my teenage angst. I've been emotionally uprooted from my family and friends, the very people that motivated me to keep trudging forward. When I was in danger of falling and tripping over myself over and over again, they held me steady and tethered me to them so that I may find myself in the midst of the chaos of growing up. I've been mentally uprooted from my future aspirations. I came into college thinking I wanted to do non-profit management but what am I doing now? I'm thinking of 3 different concentrations at once, two of which I never thought I'd even stop to consider. There was a point I was walking back to my dorm, as the only light to illuminate my insanity came from the moon, covered by the clouds that seemed to judge me with their omnipotent presence... when I unlocked my phone to search "CS secondary Harvard." I know I don't want to do CS. Not because it's a bad concentration, because I'm not interested in it. And yet here I was, ready to sacrifice a fundamental piece of myself for the sake of fitting in and feeling like everyone else. To feel that I was rooted somewhere. To feel as though I had a steady rock.
I've been uprooted. I need to go home and show myself what my rock is. I need to show myself that my rock moves with ME. It does not stay tethered to the California sun or to the west coast. It follows me wherever I go. It was born with me in Hawaii, moved with me to Alaska and California, and now has followed me to Cambridge despite the hostile wind chills. My rock is within me. I just need to remind myself that it's there. My writing has been an amazing reflection of how I've felt for the last couple of months. If you've read my other blog posts I'm literally just afloat. I never come back to a single topic and all my blog posts were unfinished thoughts. For the first time in a long time I feel as though I can write freely without any inhibition. I feel as though I am freed from any expectations from my writing.
I felt for the longest time that I was at a disadvantage because I didn't know what I wanted to concentrate in. I am not attached to a single idea or a single field of study. If I'm being completely honest, I couldn't care less what I majored in. My practical skills for life will come from my experiences. My major is my chance to know how the world works, not how to work it. I'll learn how to work it when I get there.
I also need to remember I'm 18. Frances, chill. I know you want to do a lot and see a lot and especially eat, I mean experience a lot. But it's okay not to know what you're doing right at this moment. You have your life ahead of you. Remember that your mom changed her major when she was in her 40s. She is so much happier now; it may have taken her longer, but the journey I'm sure was worth it. I don't know why you expect yourself to figure it all out now. You are 18. There are so many advantages to that age but also so many disadvantages. You are young and free, but also plagued by so many worries. You are lovely and beautiful, but also so dark within. You are 18. Remember that. You have a life ahead of you.