If you’re reading this, it’s ok to be lost and unsure of who you are.
I came into college thinking I knew exactly who I was and exactly who I wanted to be. I acted like I knew what to do, like I was worldly, and if I didn’t know the answer you could damn-well bet I would find a halfway decent one. Yet despite all that self-aggrandizing talk, I still felt uncomfortable in my own skin. I thought if I pretended to know who I was and who I wanted to be, my feigned identity would stick - shaking off doubt like a bird shedding rain. I took on burdens that I had no reason or right to bear, trying to help those around me without ever regarding the toll it took on me. I thought I would somehow find meaning in my own life by focusing fully on others. All the while, I filled with a greater sense of dread for what was to come. I felt included but never quite like I belonged, and the thought came often that I would not live to know what being 30 felt like.
My use of drugs and alcohol increased. My comfort around groups and my ability to socialize or act appropriately decreased. I hurt people I claimed to love, stopped trying to understand other views, and became stuck in my own pain. I was coming apart at the seams and in complete denial of anything being wrong.
Then the pandemic hit. That sense of misalignment within me was now a shared feeling among everyone else as they tried to cope with loss, sickness, and disruption. Everyone was chasing a sense of normalcy in uncertain times. I felt prepared for it - a step ahead- because it was not a new feeling to me, and I could help others accept those emotions. I knew how to stay up after taking repeated hits, even when all I wanted to do was go down and stay down. It’s what I’d done internally for years, while smiling outwardly as if that would mask what was happening beneath the surface.
Jump forward through a tumultuous series of events - a bumpy relationship, suicidal ideation, multiple jobs, and a whole hell of a lot of therapy – and I feel like I haven’t gotten anywhere. It’s my senior year of college, and I’m asked what I’m doing next and told to enjoy the rest of my time as a student. But I feel even more lost than ever before. I still feel included but not like I belong. I don’t know who I am, what parts of my identity are truly me and what parts are influenced by others. Meanwhile, I’m trying to connect with my senior peers before distance makes strangers of us all. As cynical as that all sounds, it’s not all dark and broody. I actually came out of the last few years with a new vocabulary, one better suited to express the chorus of a thousand voices in my head.
I spent 22 years of my life trying to fit into the mold that was made for me: live up to the expectations of my parents, fill the shoes left by my older brothers as they grew up, and live up to the potential in me that apparently is readily visible to others, yet invisible to my eyes. I’ve tried to fit everyone else’s idea of who I should be because I’ve never had a clue who I am. The value and acceptance I’ve known has all too often been reflective of what I can provide and how I compare to others, and rarely is it given solely for being me. I am tired of feeling lost, I am tired of marching forward without a clear goal in sight, and I’m tired of putting one foot in front of the other for what needs to be done instead of what I want to do.
I don’t know what I want, and I’m scared to find out. Thanks to an extremely patient psychologist and a few good friends, though, I understand that it's ok to feel this way, to be this way. Eventually, I’ll make my peace with being lost, and hopefully I’ll handle it better than Hemingway and Fitzgerald. Until then, it’s the little things that matter the most, like the falling of small pebbles that start an avalanche.
If you’re reading this, you’re not alone when you feel lost. And even though it can feel like the sun won’t break through the clouds, know that there are resources and people who are willing and able to help you until the sun shines again.
Ben C, Colorado College ‘23
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