Growing pains
By Kamryn Burton (@kamryn.burton)
I’ve always struggled with embracing change. As a kid, I would insist on picking out the same glasses frames every time I went to the eye doctor, and I’d cry when they weren’t available. Every birthday I feel saddened at the thought of being one year closer to adulthood. It seems like just yesterday when I was singing Taylor Swift’s “Never Grow Up” on the playground, daydreaming about being older. I now hum the same tune feeling the polar opposite. Where’d all the time go? This past school year was full of constant reminders of the end of an era: “lasts.” Last dance and theater performances, last club meetings, last spirit weeks. But perhaps the most bittersweet goodbye was my high school graduation.
Those who know me would agree that I’m not a crier. I’m sentimental, but not one to reveal my emotions. I had contained myself throughout several senior milestones, but graduation felt different – the official end. That night, I cried. I said goodbye to people I may never cross paths with again. Even if we weren’t best friends, they were constants in my life. I could count on seeing them in the hall or across the cafeteria, no matter the day. Those constants no longer exist. I’ve been intertwined with these people for the last four years, and now we’re going our separate ways, leading independent lives.
It’s difficult to feel like you’ll soon be leaving everything you’ve ever known. Well, maybe “leaving” is a bit melodramatic. Though you can always come back to visit, your former relationships with your home and loved ones will change forever. Your bedroom, a refuge you once frequented, might become a place where you merely sleep during the holidays. Daily conversations and dinner rambles with your family might be reduced to weekly recaps over FaceTime or text.
These changes in your relationships are small and gradual enough to go unnoticed for a while – the same people and things might still be in your life, just with less prevalence than before. So when do you realize that your loved ones are slipping through your fingers? Once it’s too late? Is this an inevitable aspect of growing up? I am paralyzingly afraid that one day, I'll look up to find them completely gone before I’ve had a chance to do something about it.
My ongoing battle with this fear took the form of procrastination and disregard. I put off practically every task on my incoming freshman to-do list until hours before the deadline. I only recently found the strength to start dorm room shopping after weeks of nagging from my mom. I knew it was something I needed to do, but the task signified moving on. A moving on that I acknowledged, but did not accept. It was the difference between filling my Amazon cart with college must-haves versus actually buying them. A small part of me wrongly believed I could put a pause on time by ignoring it.
In retrospect, I wasn’t seeing the big picture. I focused on the smallest details and amplified them into fears that prevented me from moving forward. I can concurrently grieve the past and anticipate the future. Yes, growing up is scary. It can feel like you’re being uprooted from your home. But that means you’ll be replanted in a new environment full of freshness and “firsts,” allowing you to blossom like never before.
Find the excitement in the unknown and unwritten chapters. I’m looking forward to new beginnings, and that doesn’t take away from the amazing experiences and relationships I already have. In one month, I’ll be halfway across the country, hiking in the wilderness. In two, I’ll be at UNC, navigating new topics, settings, and friendships. And I can’t wait to discover what other adventures I’ll take on later, further shaping me into the person I want to become. Though there is comfort and familiarity in stagnation, seasons of change and growth make us who we are. In the wise words of trailblazer journalist Gail Sheehy, “If we don’t change, we don’t grow. If we don’t grow, we are not really living.”
