College Friendships & International Exposure

I think back to August of 2012 when I made that first drive to Wichita all by myself, with my belongings all packed up and ready to move to college with me. I was only relocating an hour north, but at 18 years old, I was simultaneously thrilled and terrified. I can remember feeling excited to finally live on my own and be able to go anywhere and do anything, at any time of the day or night without having to answer to my mother. I remember thinking what a huge, vast place Wichita was and how I was probably never going to learn how to get around or remember where anything was located. I also remember feeling like my heart had been ripped straight out of my chest when I drove out of my mom's driveway after kissing my three-year-old baby brother good-bye. I remember feeling so guilty because I just knew he was going to forget all about me and things were never going to be the same again (he didn't, and they were).

I was so sad and scared for many reasons which I was leaving behind, but it quickly occurred to me that I was also scared for a few reasons looking forward. I didn't have a job secured yet and I was unsure of just how long the money I'd made at my summer job would sustain my new college lifestyle. I was moving to a place with a higher crime rate and I couldn't help but imagine being mugged in the bad neighborhoods of the city I would now call home. But perhaps most daunting of all, now that I look back at that moment in my life, is a fear which is far less tangible and  much more realistic: I did not know a single person in Wichita. I was the only one from my graduating class to be going to WSU as a freshman, and while I was very excited about getting away from the people I'd long ago outgrown, it also momentarily paralyzed me with panic.

I had no one. The realization really hit me that first night when I went to bed in my dark new dorm room, all by myself, without my Mommy, my baby brother, my best friend, or my boyfriend. I only had myself. My roommate hadn't arrived yet and there was no guarantee I'd like her when she did (I didn't). I was just going to have to make friends in my classes and cross my fingers that I'd eventually find some people who would understand me.

It took some time at first, but eventually I did find my own little tribe of various misfits and weirdos.

Freshman year was rough, and I really only still speak to one person who I knew at that time. I like to think of that first year as the awkward freshman year that a lot of people experience, where you try your hand at a lot of different things just to find out what you like and see what sticks. My roommate and I didn't have much in common and we lived in an unhealthy silence for the entire year. This greatly shaped my outlook on making new friends. My suitemate and I, however, banded together for a while, but towards the end of the year that began to disintegrate as our paths went in separate directions. I'd made a few other friends through work (I actually ended up getting a job before August was even over, and I stayed there for a year) and various other activities. At the end of the year, though, I left Wichita to go home for the summer still feeling pretty alone.

The following year was really the turning point in my college career. You always hear stories where people say "we met in college" or they talk about how they went to college with their best friends/bridesmaids/groomsmen. This is the really profound part of my journey where I first encountered those kinds of characters in my life's story. I moved into a different residence hall, partially by choice, and partially because the university's administration kicked returning students out of where I'd previously lived. It doesn't really matter now how my path led me there, because I ended up exactly where I was meant to be. I was at Brennan.

I cannot count on both my hands all of the countries represented in Brennan. There are a lot. Within the first week of living there, I had made new friends from all over the world; from places I'd never known anyone from before; and certainly from places I could not identify on a map. Brennan was a hodge-podge of so many different ethnicities and nationalities, due in part to its close location to the International Education office, and also because it had the cheapest housing rates available. Throwing so many international students and domestic students together in two buildings certainly had its quirks.

Although we came from many different cultures individually, the combined culture of Brennan was one rich in brutal honesty, immense sexual innuendo, racist jokes, and mild sexism. We all spent entirely too much time together, frequently invaded one another's personal space, knew terrible truths about each other, and at some point everyone had been pissed off at someone else. Despite all of our various differences, what kept us together were the things we had in common. We were one giant, usually loving, always misbehaving, slightly dysfunctional, multi-colored family.

I have this big world map on my wall right above my bed this year, where I put little adhesive tags with the names of my loved ones on it. I am a visual learner and seeing my friends spread out geographically like that really puts it into context for me. There are some tabs on the map which represent people who I did not meet through Brennan, and I cherish those international friendships just as dearly. I know by my age, plenty of people have accomplished much more. But I'm quite proud of being twenty-one-and-a-half years old and having friends from six out of seven continents. (Does anyone really live in Antarctica anyway?)

The Brennan residence hall has since been shut down by the administration, and we dispersed in different directions. We all feel collectively pretty sad and even a little bitter about it, but I remember what a friend told me last year: "Brennan's not a building. It's a community." A group of us moved together into another residence hall after it closed, and we still hang out regularly. It's not quite the same as it was before, but just like anything else in life, it has evolved as time has gone on. A few of the members of my Brennan family have since returned back to their home countries, and while I always hate it when the international students leave, Facebook does help keep us close. And I doubt if they know this, but I assume that I have a place to stay in any of their home countries if ever I should need it.

I look at this map on my wall, and I think back to my freshman year in Wichita. I spent that first lonely night in my empty dorm room, just a few doors down in the very hall where I sleep now. I didn't know a single person when I moved to (what I thought was) a big city three years ago. Wichita seemed cold and lonely and truly terrifying to even the most headstrong of eighteen-year-old girls.

Apart from my time spent cultivating international relationships at Brennan, I did travel abroad for the first time in college, which inspired me to take a solo trip to check out an even bigger city later. When I look at my map of friends and see how far away the places I've been are located from the tag that says "Mom & Zane", I realize that the one hour drive from home to Wichita in 2012 was not so far, afterall.

I have grown an incredible amount in such a short span of time during my college years. I know I'm responsible for most of it myself, but I don't pretend that at least part of that growth has been due to them; those little adhesive tags littered all over my map, which represent living, breathing people, with whom I've lived, slept, ate, argued, and known on a very real level. Without even one of those people in my life, I would not be the very person I am today. Nobody can do everything in this world on their own, least of all grow.

Three years ago when I made that interminable drive to Wichita with all my belongings, the thought never once crossed my mind that I was driving toward such meaningful friendships and such varied cultural exposure. I felt so alone in a city of 380,000. I knew no one. Now, a short time later, I feel so at home all over the world; and it all changed within the same city limits.

Now I feel I'm outgrowing Wichita, just as I felt when I outgrew Ark City. I made a big girl leap into a bigger city 50 miles away, even though I was scared. It took some time and adjustment, but I now know I survived. Having that knowledge and experience under my belt, I am now much more fearless to do it again, on a larger scale.

It's strange to think that so much has changed in such a short amount of time. But meeting so many people from so many places (along with my own traveling experience) has taught me that I can indeed go anywhere and do anything, because I now know I can make a home and find friends anywhere at all in this world, no matter how scared and alone I might feel when I first arrive. I've just got to look around to find my own little tribe of misfits and weirdos, wherever I may be. They look different and they come from different places, but no matter where I may go, they're there: friendships waiting to be made.

"Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open." - Albus Dumbledore

What Happened When I Followed My Heart

I have spent a lot of my life doing what other people want me to do. I have spent so much time adhering to the expectations placed before me, the loose guidelines of what any number of things is supposed to look like: success, happiness, inner peace, a good role model, a worthy scholarship recipient... Without even realizing it, my life has been plagued with these ideas of what I am supposed to be and the things I am supposed to attain.

Now, I realize my life is much easier than that of a lot of people. I do not discount that fact, nor take it for granted. However, I am able to clearly notice the small, yet meaningful, differences in my own consciousness when I am doing something for someone else as opposed to when I am doing it for myself.

Some people -- okay, a lot of people -- would say I have a bad attitude. They would say I am negative, pessimistic, and always complaining about something. It's true. Other people -- fewer people -- would say that I have a positive attitude, compassion, wonderful insight, and plenty of big ideas to offer this world. For the longest time, I was conflicted by those two opposing opinions of who I am. How on earth can one person be perceived in such polarizing ways by others?

Then I paused for a moment to examine what it was these people saw in me. I stepped out of my shoes and into theirs and I tried to imagine myself through their eyes. If I were to ask these people what it is I am always so unhappy about, what would they say? I can create a list of my most common complaints from my own memory: being stared at by strangers, inconsiderate co-workers, lazy classmates, being talked down to, and having too much homework. All in all, not unreasonable irritations.

All right, but what about the other people who would say I am a hopeful beacon of light for the future? If they were asked what it is that makes me so great, what would they say? The compliments I receive most often include: being mature and professional for my age, being intelligent, giving solid advice, being inclusive, and being able to see things from another perspective.

Now, perhaps the most important question: who are these people? Who are the people in my life that seem to think I am nothing more than a Negative Nancy? Conversely, who are the people who see the raw material I'm working with and encourage me to mold it into something more? What positions do all of these people hold in my life and why do I even listen to them, anyway?

This is when I understood the reason why I was so disappointed by trying to live up to the expectations of others. Each individual person expects something entirely different from me. By worrying so much about having good relationships with so many different people in my life, I neglected to have a good relationship with myself.

The people who have made me feel badly for being "too negative" are greater in quantity, but noticeably less in quality. They are acquaintances, co-workers, classmates, and even strangers I encounter in passing, who know only the surface of my life. They comment on what little behavior they witness from me, and they honest-to-goodness believe they have me all figured out: I complain too much and I'm so unhappy and I am always angry or in a bad mood. (Do you know what actually makes me unhappy? Feeling the need to defend my happiness against people who barely took any time at all to know me before judging me.)

On the other hand, when I think of the times I have had awe-inspiring, hopeful, optimistic conversations about the future, I think of an entirely different caliber of human being. I think of teachers, mentors, parental figures, and even a few very close friends. These are the people with whom I have discussed my worries about today and my plans for tomorrow. They are the ones who have taken the time and interest to more closely observe some of the things that make me tick; they're people who have read what I wrote or heard what I said and understood with a single look into my heart and mind that I had it (whatever it is), and then pushed me to be more.

Because of all the ambivalence I felt from such opposing forces, I was unsure for a while even who I was. Was I this mean, hateful person that so many people painted a picture of? Was I an insightful, wise-beyond-her-years, eclectic individual with something deep within her soul that stirred the interest of kindred spirits? Or did I fall somewhere in the middle and fluctuate slightly between good and bad days? I didn't really know for sure, and it resulted in a miniature identity crisis for me, at the age of 21. (Which, granted, is a better age for a crisis than 45, when I'd probably have many more long-term commitments.) So many people wanted me to be so many different things. But what did I want myself to be? Through all this struggling, I was able to find some answers by myself.

You see, I was so preoccupied with worrying about these two very different perceptions of my personality, that I forgot to take into account one very important opinion on the matter: my own. I became so worried about why I might seem bitter and cold to a mere acquaintance, or if I were falling short of the exemplary mark set for me by a mentor, that I failed to leave enough time and energy for me to examine how my personality was measuring up to qualities that I valued.

I can't pinpoint an exact moment when it happened, and I can't even tell you the exact sequence of events that led up to it, but there was a moment in time when I just quit. I didn't quit listening, I didn't quit trying, and I didn't quit caring about the people in my life. What I did quit, was concerning myself so much with the validity of others' opinions. I quit caring more about how they perceived me than about how I perceived myself.

In that moment, I stood up for myself. I realized that what was in my heart was the only thing with any true consistency -- the only thing that really mattered -- and I decided I would give following that a chance, instead. It occurred to me that I was always going to let someone down if I kept trying to please so many different audiences, so I might as well try to please the one audience I knew best: me.

I didn't know where else to start, so I just asked myself, "what do you want, Alyssa?" My heart answered, and I made sure to listen closely. It spoke softly to me about all of the glorious, adventurous, beautiful things it wanted to see and feel. After it was finished whispering many splendored things to me, I started with the smallest, easiest item on the list: writing.

I had procrastinated accomplishing anything at all with my writing for months, and I had made excuses for myself about how busy I was with my life. I let other things (albeit credible things like class, work, and family) dictate my actions. I did not make time for what my heart really needed. I had not been listening to my own desires, and I had suffered because of it. But that was about to change.

I sat down one afternoon, and I wrote. I applied to publication after publication, and I sent several different samples of my work into numerous websites which I had previously scouted. And when I was finished, I felt so good about myself. I felt accomplished, like I had just crossed something very heavy off of my heart's to-do list... finally.

A few short days later, when I began to receive email responses with positive answers from those publications, I was absolutely elated. My heart was so happy and I felt so pleased with myself, because I knew that I had made this happen. I was the one who had done the hard work which earned me this reward. Because I chose to finally listen to myself and value my own opinion above others, I took action toward my dreams and I had now reaped the fruit of my labor. I did it all by myself and I was beyond proud.

This is what happens when you follow your heart. It applies to every area of your life: personal, professional, academic, and even athletic. When you act based on your own heart's wishes, you will be happy with the results. As soon as I stopped allowing the perceptions of others to set boundaries and expectations for me, I opened myself up to endless possibilities for joy with a horizon limited only by my own imagination. I reminded myself that I don't have to impress anyone else, fans or critics alike. I always took for granted that I knew this before, but society has a nasty way of creeping up on you and ingraining things into your mind before you are even aware it's taking place.

I think that's what happened to me. I spent so much time listening to so many mixed messages from everyone else, that I lost myself among the noise. The only thing louder than all that racket was the consistent, steady beating of my own heart. I chose to focus on it, and soon its reverberation rose above all the external static, until eventually it was the only sound I could hear.

Friend or foe, the opinions of others are irrelevant to your existence. You are the only one living your life; and ultimately, you are the only one affected by the decisions you make. So save yourself some stress and follow the instructions written on your heart. They are the words that will lead you exactly to the place where you are most happy. They have always been there, and that's where they will remain, for you to fall back on when the commotion of everyone else becomes too loud.