I’ve been thinking for a while about how, and whether, I want to talk about this. As those of you who’ve read my blog before may have noticed, I tend to stick to simple topics, chatting about how much I love traveling, or what great new restaurant I’ve been to. I always devote some time to talking about classes and maybe even what I want to do when I grow up, but I’ve never delved into anything too deeply.
In the interest of being authentic, however, I’ve been wanting to write this post for a while.
Towards the end of last semester I started feeling out of sorts, just not quite myself. I blamed my higher-than-usual workload, and the inevitable stress of exams. I thought I was feeling tired after the half marathon, or maybe worried about graduation. I felt mentally foggy, though, and it was a feeling I couldn’t shake when I returned home for Christmas break and Intersession. Feeling tired and sad is just not me. As those who knows me can attest, I’m usually running around campus, coffee in hand, talking a mile a minute to anyone who will listen. But I just couldn’t snap out of this. I’d rather not hash out the details of it, but I am happy to say I am back now to my usual happy self. What I’d like to talk a little bit more about, though, is my friends.
I was incredibly lucky to have a great group of friends in high school. When graduation rolled around, I was nervous to leave my small school, my amazing support system, my crazy friends. I knew I was excited to go to Hopkins but I was sure I could never match my high school experience in terms of my friends. They had seen me go through the ups and downs of college applications, stressful cross country practices, and high school love dramas, all decked out in our funny girls school dress code of uggs, huge sweaters, and cordorouys. How could I possibly replicate that?
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I remember driving down to Hopkins four years ago with my dad, and confiding in him, panicked, at the outskirts of Baltimore, that I wouldn’t meet “my friends,” my people, the people I was supposed to be friends with. My dad, always matter-of-fact, responded that that was quite possible. I sat worriedly in the front seat, resigning myself to the fact that I had peaked, friendship-wise, in high school. Little did I know that that night I would meet Katie and Jillie, my next door neighbors but one in the AMRs, and still two of my closest friends today. I had no idea that Eve would approach me the very next day in line for a barbeque on the freshman quad, admitting she had friended me on Facebook over the summer in a fit of fear over Hopkins’ social life. Eve and I became fast friends and then roommates, and four years later we’ve vacationed together and she knows my parents by their first names. I would never have guessed I’d meet Laura, paired up alphabetically in rush, and she’d become my best friend, roommate of three years and counting, and general partner-in-crime. Or that I would run into Louisa, my friend from a high school summer program and we’d become attached at the hip yet again, that she’d become my go-to dinner date, running partner, and confidante. I have the best friends in the world.
four years ago
....and here we are today
I’ve always known that my friends would be there for me, but I had been lucky enough to never have needed to test that assumption. Over the past few months, however, I have been floored by their incredible kindness, selflessness, and the strength of our friendship. I returned for the semester still out of sorts, and a bit embarrassed by still feeling so. I thought I could conceal it though, and was a little shocked when one by one they spoke to me, expressing their concern. I had forgotten how well they all know me.
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I’m lucky to live in a tiny off-campus community, where many of my closest friends are just a few steps down the hall. They have seen me hobbling around after long runs, in my late-night study suit of glasses and leggings, and prepping for early morning exams with a bowl of oatmeal. They helped me apply for jobs last year, celebrated with me when I finally became employed, and listened to me deliberate over decisions big and small–from what shoes to buy and what to make for dinner to where to study abroad. Despite all this though, I had really never guessed how much we all mattered to each other. Silly as it sounds, I felt like I was imposing on their time when I returned to school, still sad. Four years of listening to and weighing in on those small decisions and little freak outs (spinach for dinner, last-minute exam stress, etc) has made them know me better than I know myself sometimes. They were so perceptive and helpful when I couldnt even identify what was wrong, they kept me busy and distracted and did everything in their power to help.
A few years ago, Roxi wrote about how Hopkins is “no joke.” I couldn’t agree more, but there’s a bit of a resistance to acknowledging that sometimes college is hard, whether academically or personally. Having gone through both academic and personal struggles in my four years here, and still loving the experience, I too felt a bit lost for words when trying to address it on this blog. I think, though, that it’s just as important to acknowledge the bad as the good. Life has its ups and downs, but being in a place like Hopkins, with my friends, has made it so much easier to weather those downs. I like to think that things happen for a reason, and tough as this semester has been, it has taught me so much. It has taught me that I am so much stronger than I thought I was, and that I am incredibly, insanely lucky to have my friends. Hard as it was, I would do it all again just to learn those things.
As we all move towards graduation, scary as it is, I am reassured by knowing that I have found lifelong friends at Hopkins. If Katie moves to San Francisco to be a food writer, when Allie goes back to Canada for med school, whether Dani stays in DC or returns to LA, we will remain friends. Four years of college brings some pretty serious decisions, and we have weathered them together. Looking back on the decision to attend Hopkins with four years of perspective and a bit of clarity, I can’t see it any other way. Regardless of the ups and downs, the basic fact is that if I hadn’t come to Hopkins, these wouldn’t be my friends. And that is unimaginable.
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Name: Lauren B.
