As the mid-January chill returns to inevitably dry my hands, burn my lips, and serve as good reason to stay indoors for the rest of the season, I am reminded of last winter’s freshman funk.
Yes, the freshman funk. It’s the not-so-great experiences that seemed to escape my older siblings appealing college descriptions shared with me during my high school days. It’s the college blues, the feelings of boredom and loneliness that even my friends from home didn’t mention as they recited thrilling college stories and experiences during our winter break reunion. Somehow things for everyone were always sunny and bright.
It’s as if the roller coaster ride was only bumpy for me. Only my hands blistered and my lips cracked as the icy chill of college life exclusively nipped at me, the way it does on the first really cold mid-January morning. I was apparently the only one who was stressing over my major choice, my on-campus job, my lacking social life, my own fragile self-image, and the homesickness that often struck me on weekends I spent in a small cinderblock cube I called home for many months.
I was definitely wrong to believe my experience was unique to me. It took a while to reverse my freshman funk and the battle to avoid the sequential sophomore slump still continues. Because let’s face it, the funk isn’t exclusive to freshman year, and it sure isn’t exclusive to my own personal college experiences, though it seemed that way during my first year at Rutgers.
When I returned to my hometown for the holidays after my first semester, I was somewhat relieved to have a break from college. While there were many successes associated with my first semester (I had made some awesome friends, experienced a few college parties, and did pretty well in my classes), I was still overwhelmed with many uncertainties (What will I major in? Who will I room with next year? Will the guy from my creative writing class still talk to me after break?). While these concerns seem trivial now, they were merely branches on the trees of insecurities that were rooted deeply within the core of my freshman self. Nothing had seemed more stable than my own tendency to overthink everything. And when I returned for winter break and saw my closest girlfriends, the bitter season had really started to take its toll. As I listened to stories about the wild parties, the new boyfriends, and the weekday midnight extravaganzas, I was flooded with jealous thoughts. Was I not experiencing college to the fullest? Am I missing out on something? My positive memories paled in comparison to my friends’ thrilling stories and suddenly my Friday nights spent doing homework and my concerns about choosing the correct major seemed more prominent than ever. I suddenly realized that the winter shivers were not universal, and the freshman funk was freezing within me.
As winter break came to an end, I looked forward to starting a second semester with new classes but remained nervous about the course of the year. I secretly worried that my current state of mind would be the forecast for the rest of college; the snow would never melt; the air would always be cold. But I timidly accepted that winter couldn’t last forever, that simply wasn’t possible. So I began my new classes with a weakly optimistic attitude that proved to benefit the outcome of my freshman funk. A new semester allowed me to meet new people, join new clubs, and experience new classes that impacted my decisions in declaring a major. Soon, I shed my winter jacket. The horses on Cook Campus reappeared again. The sun spent more of its time awake in the sky and I spent more time admiring it. The forest of insecurities that lie within me had even sprouted a few flowers. I was changing. My freshman funk was dissipating and I was too busy experiencing college to even recognize the shift.
When I ended my freshman year I remember hearing the question, so freshman year was pretty sweet right? The only honest answer to that question was yes and no. College is an adjustment, not a vacation. It isn’t always carefree and easy. The realistic snapshot of college isn’t always a Friday night party with your dozens of friends taking pictures of your genuinely happy self. College isn’t always earning all As in all the right classes. So no, freshman year wasn’t just sweet. Freshman year was often about discovering the sweetness after the bitter.
When I wake up groggy on a mid-January morning of my sophomore year and pull on my bulky winter jacket, I’m struck with that familiar winter chill. And when I meet up with two friends from home to catch up and discuss our first semesters back at school, I’m surprised to see my friend getting emotional about college. College can be kind of boring and monotonous, she complains. And some nights I worry about my major choice and my future. My other friend provides an empathetic nod.
A breeze coming from an open window seems to ambush me, causing unexpected goosebumps on my arms. As the familiar feeling washes over me during my friend’s rant, I become painfully aware of the frigid air and the gray sky. Though this time the chill is widespread; the sophomore slump seems to be present in all of.
We all lie awake every once in a while, overwhelmed with thoughts of the future. Sometimes we feel guilty about not studying enough for the exam last Tuesday. We find ourselves wondering if our friends this year will be our friends next year. We’re all college students experiencing all the fun college festivities as well as all the trying, stressful moments. We all exist on this iceberg together even if most of us try not to admit it. However, it’s important to recognize that we won’t be here forever; winter never lasts forever.
Winter will end, I remind my friend, and the flowers will bloom again, the sky will be blue, and one day you’ll wake up and leave your heavy jacket in the closet because you won’t need to carry the extra weight and everything will be okay.
The Lighthouse Journal 