At 18 years old, freshly graduated out of high school, my heart was set on Pepperdine University. After a three-week backpacking trip through California when I was 16, I knew I belonged on the West Coast. My parents and I packed my 2014 Honda Pilot tightly with all the dorm essentials and my dad drove it from Richmond, Virginia all the way to Malibu, California. As soon as my parents left and I began freshman orientation, a familiar feeling crept into my stomach: homesickness. I’d experienced something similar at a sleep-away summer camp when I was little. This time, the intensity of the feeling was increased ten-fold; it was inescapable and lasted indefinitely. I know understood the reasoning behind the term “homesickness”— because it literally makes you sick. I could barely eat, my stomach hurt almost all the time and I was a ball of anxiety. By Thanksgiving Break, I still hadn’t cured it.
Three months at Pepperdine and I was still missing home.
Nobody tells you that there’s a second wave of homesickness that hits with the same, if not more, intensity after winter break though. That was the real kicker. I cried almost every day on the phone to my parents. It was extremely frustrating because no matter what I did, or how I tried to move past it, it was always there lurking in the corner of my mind following my every move: during class, at the dining hall, even when I was going to the beach with friends.
I began to think that it would never go away and that going to college across the country from my family was a mistake.
Halfway through my second semester at Pepperdine, I decided to take time off from school for my mental health. That period of time was one of the most transformative of my life. The ABCs of my changes are as follows: I moved to San Diego. I got a job working at a doggie daycare. I ended up adopting one of those dogs from said daycare. I transferred to the University of San Diego. I changed my major from Environmental and Ocean Sciences to Philosophy and Communications. I moved into my own apartment. Lastly, I cured my homesickness. But how exactly was it cured?
That’s a question I still ask myself.
Something happened during that gap year, seemingly subconsciously, where I started to break the intense attachment to family and the familiar sense of security, I had connected to the place I grew up. Forced out of my comfort zone, I stuck it out. I took my path and direction into my own hands and proactively made decisions that all led to where I am today. So, I guess that’s my remedy to homesickness. Stick it out and make decisions, however drastic they may be, to take control of your own life and captain your own ship! Now, the Virginia shaped hole in my heart has morphed into a San Diego shaped hole. I call San Diego my home and when I go to visit family (which I am currently while I’m on winter break) I miss it.
I recently turned 21 yet I feel like I’m in my mid-thirties.
Somewhere between 18 and 21, I feel like I skipped ahead ten years or so. I live in a single bedroom apartment, furnished plainly, with my dog Rusty. The daily routine goes something like this: wake up around 7:30 and feed Rusty, Starbucks, workout (either run or rock climb), shower, and then head to classes. Being a commuter at the University of San Diego feels like working a regular 9 to 5 job; you clock in (drive on campus), work (take classes), and clock out (drive back to apartment). Maybe this contributes to the feeling of maturity past my age level. I’m in bed by 10:30 after doing homework and then the schedule resets itself. Sure, I hang out with friends and add some other things in to spice up the routine, but there’s something about the simple self-sufficiency of living off-campus as a commuter at USD that feels like I’ve skipped some sort of stage in the “normal” timeline of a “regular” college student. I look forward to what will come as a result of my rapid maturation and what lies around the corner of my graduation.
