N.M.

Being from Florida, I came to Cal Poly my freshman year not knowing a single soul. Well, I guess that’s not entirely true because I have a cousin who goes to Cal Poly, but he was not in school fall quarter, so he didn’t really count at the time. Honestly, high school was full of crazy teenage hormones, strict parents, and not many friends, which made moving across the country feel like a fresh start. I imagined myself moving in and immediately making a ton of friends, meeting cute boys, and joining a “top” sorority. I imagined myself being the life of the party and posting pictures on Instagram so everyone at home could see them and think “damn, I wish I could have talked to her more in high school.” I thought that all of my insecurities would magically disappear since no one in California had any knowledge of the negative parts of my life. Spoiler alert: that didn’t happen. 

Cal Poly had the brilliant idea of putting 8 freshman girls into a very small apartment in PCV which meant that I had 6 roommates in addition to the girl I picked from Facebook. The first thing that I did when I got the names of my roommates was look them up on Facebook/Instagram and, wow, for some reason fate decided to put me with girls who deserve to be on magazine covers. Part of me was excited because living with pretty girls gave me an automatic “in” with frat parties and friends; the other part of me, however, saw these girls as my competition, and I immediately compiled a list in my head of all the things about them that made them better than me. The initial transition into college was actually not bad at all; my roommates seemed great, wow week was super fun, and I was adjusting to school. Side note: I also have to explain that my whole life I have been very insecure and overall negative about myself, so “not bad at all” meant I was still complaining to whomever would listen about everything wrong with my body, face, skin, etc. but this was just so normal to me that I barely noticed. 

The downhill slope, however, started around the first couple times I went out to parties with my roommates. Everywhere we went my pretty roommates were surrounded by cute boys trying to make their way in while I was completely ignored. This obviously didn’t help my already very low self-esteem. Then sorority recruitment started and every day I kept getting called back to the “top” houses I was imagining myself being in. That was until preference night, where I didn’t get called back to either of my dream houses and I was left with a house I liked and a house I really didn’t like. Getting dropped from houses made me feel rejected, which brought back memories of college rejections, rejections from boys, and weekends spent home alone. This basically gave those little insecurities in my head a large microphone to yell and confirm everything that I worry is wrong with me. And of course, my roommates went back to the houses I didn’t, which just further proved how much better they were than me. I pouted all day until bid night. That was the beginning of the end for me in room 102.

Luckily, I got a bid to the house I wanted. However, my brain decided to just focus on the fact that my roommates were now in top houses, some even sisters, and I wasn’t. Fortunately, becoming a new srat gal kept me really busy and gave me an outlet to finding more friends, so tension with my roommates didn’t seem to be so bad. Due to some dramatic nights and smack talk, my parents convinced me that it would be best to see if I could move to a different dorm room, and about a week later I was all moved out and settled into my new single room in a 6-person apartment just a floor up. By pure coincidence I moved into an apartment with two my new sorority sisters which made me feel much more confident the year would only go up from here. 

After parents’ weekend and being revitalized from seeing mom and dad, everything seemed to be good in my life. That didn’t last very long and the voices in my head telling me I wasn’t good enough came back. Engineering classes got hard and studying seemed hopeless due to a newly emerging test anxiety. Over winter break I went to see a psychiatrist because I was convinced I had ADHD only to find out I had pretty severe anxiety. Shocker, am I right? I was given a medication that I was told would help my anxiety, motivation, and energy and sent on my way. Turns out there’s a good chance the first pill you try won’t be the answer to your problems, so medication didn’t last very long. The rest of freshman year was basically just trying to survive classes, feeling depressed and lonely, with a little bit of strep and mono thrown in too. I spent all the summer after freshman year at home reflecting and working on myself and looking forward to making sophomore year my glow up. 

Sophomore year started off exactly what I had hoped, and I was right on track with turning my life around. Then my anxiety started to do its thing and creep right back in. A combination of things including not getting a little and some crappy boys led me right back down the rabbit hole towards a bunch more self-loathing. Towards the end of fall quarter 2018 I started to realize that I didn’t really have many friends that I felt actually gave a crap about me. I saw everyone around me living with roommates they loved (mine were random from Facebook) and close groups of friends and were truly happy and totally felt the FOMO. My depression got so bad that in February of 2019 when I was visiting my family for the weekend, I opened up to my parents and basically just said “Mom, Dad, I’m not okay.” I don’t have a very open relationship with my parents so for me this was hitting rock bottom. Their response honestly still shocks me because they said that they would approve of me adopting a dog for emotional support. My parents letting me get a dog on my own in the middle of college? I must have died and this is my last neuron firing.

 Within a week I had already brought home a puppy I named Pepper. The rest of junior year from that point on was all new territory for me. I got a dog, a therapist, and a boyfriend all at the same time (literally within 2 days). The therapist (and the boyfriend) gave me an outlet to talk about my loneliness and insecurities and the puppy gave me a reason to stay motivated. Unfortunately the therapist didn’t work out, my dog is still a bit untrained, and my first real relationship turned out to be very messy to say the least. Sorry, I know that stories are supposed to have happy endings, but honestly these past few months have definitely been my hardest; but thanks to a new psychiatrist and better anxiety meds, some of my lifelong problems are already starting to fade. I have a long way to go but hey, I’m on my way. 

The biggest thing I have learned from my college experience so far is that you’re not going to wake up one day with all your problems solved and sometimes you can’t solve them all by yourself. I have decided to share my story because social media and Hollywood make socializing in college look so easy. I really wish that I had someone freshman year, sophomore year, and even yesterday told me that it’s okay to struggle and it’s normal to feel alone, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t stop pushing forward. Just find one person who values you, one thing that inspires you, and one thing that you want to accomplish and focus on them. Do that and you’ll start moving. Be patient.