Unreasonable Expectations
I want to begin with sharing my eighteen-year-old dreams for the college experience. I believed it would be a time of fun, freedom, love, and all the benefits of adulthood. I expected to arrive at college and have instant connections with others. I believed that all the classes would be intellectually stimulating and enjoyable and lead me to a career that I found deeply fulfilling. Mostly, I desired to find a boyfriend who loved me unconditionally, and I would have a legendary kind of love and immediately have the dream home, career, and exciting life that I dreamed of. All of my hopes for college came crashing to an utter halt as instantly as I had believed they would flourish.
When it came to friendships, nearly all the girls I met were catty, judgmental, and downright mean to me sometimes. Everything I did and said just seemed “wrong” somehow. Joining a social club was supposed to help me find those deep friendships and feel accepted, but it was more of an all-out assault on my mental health, self-esteem, and priorities. I felt more alone than ever, save for one friend.That one friend became a shining beacon that I could hold fast to in the midst of all the disappointment I was experiencing.
Similarly, college classes didn’t meet my expectations either. Most were so boring I could have cried. We spent so much time discussing philosophical questions that seemed too pointless to bother showing up. Every class was simply a professor’s chance to have a platform to discuss their own interests. I also found I was lazier than I would have believed possible. I had no clue how to break assignments down and work on them consistently. I procrastinated on everything. The material wasn’t difficult but navigating completing assignments without severe external motivation just wasn’t happening. I was disappointed in myself, but I also didn’t know what to do about it but just try harder…..I did try harder sometimes. I could never seem to be consistent. I was broken.
As for my dreams of love in college, it could not have been further from what I experienced. Every young man I met was some combination of gay, a player, or a complete loser. Or – they seemed utterly and completely out of my league because, in my opinion, I was below average and couldn’t hope to be with someone above average. I couldn’t handle the bar scene, which was where girls went to meet guys who didn’t attend the school. Bars were just too loud, too smoky, and felt dirty. I couldn’t be comfortable meeting anyone there. It seemed there was a chasm between what was available and what I wanted. I was a sensitive romantic awash in a sea of inadequate options and hostility.
Mourning for what I Lost
While I was stuck out of place in the trials of the college experience, I longed for what I’d had in high school. I had friends who I felt close to, and I had fun with. I wasn’t ostracized for being “odd.” While school wasn’t the most interesting place, the teachers appreciated me, and I had always managed to complete my assignments in time. I had friends in class who made the experience almost worth it. I had also had boys who liked me, which seemed incredibly important to me. The unhappiness consumed me and all I wanted was to have what I had left behind.
The summer after freshman year confirmed how bad the year had been. I spent my study abroad experience in London essentially alone, despite being surrounded by people I had spent the whole year in the same building with. My only friend got married to someone from her hometown and wasn’t going to be my rock anymore. My grades were dismal, and my parents were so disappointed. We all knew I was smarter than I was showing – what was wrong with me? But back at home were my friends. People who accepted me. People I enjoyed being with. People who didn’t make me feel like I was an annoyance to put up with. And….there was a guy who claimed to love me, who wanted to be with me, and he wasn’t gay, or a player, and I didn’t perceive him as a loser. I dreaded the day the summer would end.
I Ran Away….
But it was time to head back into that world of darkness. My parents and I had discussed the expectation that I would do better. We had discussed a lot of things….but not how much I hated the experience of college. I’m not sure I really comprehended at the time just how much I hated college. In my mind, that path was the only option….until the day I had to go back to it. That day came, and I argued with my parents. I really don’t even remember what we argued about, but my dad took my phone, causing a feeling of a complete lack of control over anything in my life. I shattered … .and I ran as far as I could. I ran from my family. I ran from college. I raced toward what I wanted at the time.
I wanted to feel accepted and appreciated, and I wanted someone who loved me. I wanted my fairy-tale. And, for a while, I felt like I got that, though my relationship with my parents was fractured. But I also couldn’t imagine a world where I was anything resembling happy, and they were also happy with me. There were many times after that I regretted the impulse decision, but I was also stubborn and prideful and stuck to it for far too long.
I got caught up in a low-class lifestyle, married someone I never should have even considered dating, and piled up more debt than I care to admit. I didn’t stop going to school, but I did make bad decisions about school. I also didn’t get any better at attending class or completing assignments. I just barely managed to stay afloat in almost every way. I relied on someone who I thought loved me, but I found out they didn’t really know how to love, and I certainly wasn’t showing real love at that time either. I knew Christ, but I had forgotten Him. The person I chose to marry didn’t know Him at all and didn’t care to.
And then I Turned Towards Home
Even though I had devastated them with my behavior, my parents didn’t stop loving me. They didn’t love my decisions. They didn’t support my behavior, but they still loved me. They still sought me out. They didn’t disown me. They never treated me like I wasn’t their daughter. They didn’t alienate me, and I think that made all the difference. It took too long, but eventually my pride, stubbornness, immaturity, and penchant for fantasy faded, and I saw the shambles I had created. Mom and Dad had compassionately stepped in several times and kept me from completely going over the edge – but I was still in the bed I had made, and I wished I had never gotten in it.
After three years, I came to them and said I was finally ready to accept that I had been wrong, and I needed to get out of the mess I had made. They were there for me, as I knew they would be, but at a level I couldn’t have anticipated. Mom and Dad swept in like a fairy godmother with no questions asked. Aside from regret and bad memories, they made it all go away in what felt like just the wave of a wand. The gratitude I felt and still feel for their complete and total restoration of my life is profound. I didn’t deserve what they did for me. I deserved to have to claw my way out of that mess on my own – or worse, be stuck with it forever. But they showed me the love and grace of God when they covered my sins and gave me my life back.
I know that even after that I wasn’t a perfect daughter. I did try to be worthy of the second chance they gifted me, but I am also flawed and weak and have failed more than once. But now I know that even so, they love me. Their love and lessons have made me into someone who does try to do the right thing. Even as flawed as I am, I try to live according to what they have taught me is right. That second chance allowed me to move on into a career and family that does bring great fulfillment and make a positive impact in the world.
Leave a Reply