Queen’s hasn’t been for me, but maybe fourth year is

I’ve been having growing pains.

This isn’t an uncommon thing for university students to feel. Between navigating living alone, more intensive schoolwork, and increased personal financial responsibilities for the first time, undergrad takes a while to ease into. However, thousands of high school graduates choose to pursue their education at Queen’s each year. It’s reputation for having a vibrant student life that promises excitement and fun alongside a major life adjustment attracts them. Tight-knit communities, a strong social culture, and healthy school spirit both draw students in and help them to enjoy their stay.

I feel incredibly lucky to be able to attend a university of Queen’s size and prestige, with an engaging program, financial security, and amazing friends. To be swimming in privileges such as these made me even guiltier for what I felt: being at Queen’s made me miserable.

It wasn’t one thing or another; there was no magic wand I could’ve waved to bring myself where I needed to be. In short, I felt empty. I didn’t recognize the hollowed-out person I became after each new semester, and I didn’t like that person either. In my personal situation, transferring schools was not an option. As a result, the feeling of being stuck amplified my self-alienation.

Many factors contributed to my gloom. My cultural heritage, which I can fully immerse myself in back home, felt difficult to connect to here. As someone who is lucky enough to have a tight-knit bond with my sibling, parents, and grandmother, I felt guilty about letting them grow older and go through day-to-day life in ways I would be a stranger to. Coming from a larger metropolitan area, Kingston also felt constricting in size and number of available experiences. I felt as though my life had somehow gotten smaller, at a time when it should have felt more boundless than ever. I craved feeling like myself again.

Trust me, it was not for lack of trying. I joined clubs, found a job I enjoyed, pushed myself to make new friends, and made the effort to try a myriad of fun activities around Kingston. My experiences richened, I found new favourite spots around town, and I made memories that I deeply value. Still, the feeling didn’t go away. Eventually, I sought professional counselling in an attempt to figure out what was wrong with me. It helped me engage with ways to soothe my strongest emotions, but didn’t quite ease the question I kept asking myself: why do I turn into a person I don’t like when I’m here?

As the years have gone by, I’ve felt much of my own self-development take place in the time between April and September. I’ve matured, increased my self-confidence, and gained new perspectives. Maybe it’s the lessons of the year catching up with me when I have the space to process them, sure; but it’s a lot harder to see it like that from inside my own body, feeling trapped for eight months of the year before feeling the warmth of self-growth.

So, this year, when the end of August came and I could smell my fourth year approaching, the feelings that arose startled me. Suddenly, I felt scared and sad that my university life was coming to an end. Daily routines, my favorite haunts, and now-familiar activities all took on a rose-coloured tint. Being in the thick of it had distorted my own perspective to the point of regularly sobbing myself to sleep. Now that I can see the end and know I will soon be unstuck, I’m not so eager to let it all go.

In a way, I feel invalidated for ever being so unhappy in the first place. At the end of the day, I am so grateful to be able to pursue a post-secondary education at such a good school. However, the day to day isn’t always easy. For me, it felt like I was wasting valuable years of my life being in a place that estranged me from myself, all while being unable to change the situation short of dropping out.

To those who have a similar dilemma, whether you’re in first year or fourth, I understand. Have hope. When you’re feeling stuck physically, there are always ways to help ‘unstick’ mentally. When I think about what I’m scared to let go of the most, it’s the things that Kingston and Queen’s uniquely offer.

Engaging in discussions that make you feel curious and worldly with the wide network of brilliant scholars here is a true gift, and one that has made my daily life feel wider than the edges of Kingston.

A very walkable downtown, full of interesting small businesses and community events, is also something that I had always appreciated but now can’t imagine leaving. Watching a flick at The Screening Room, enjoying sunset ice cream at Mio Gelato, or trying a yoga class at Skandiflow are just a few of my favourite ways to enjoy the local charm. I found a small way to recognize myself through each of these community fixtures, and it helped me gain back a sense of self-familiarity that I missed on the day to day.

The experience of being surrounded by people at a similar stage in their lives, going through it all at the same time together, is especially cherished to me. Small talk takes on a larger force when it consists of people asking ‘what the plan is’ after this; you know, for your life? The fear of the unknown is definitely part of what makes fourth year feel more welcoming to embrace and difficult to let go of, but it also inspires me to live with a distinctly tricolour flair while I’m here.

My graduation goggles are strapped on tight, but my expectations are still tempered. There will be good days and bad days, that’s no question. However, I am committed to appreciating this stage as more than a transitory one. Being at Queen’s has taught me to foster my relationship with myself first and foremost. After all, it is the most important one I’ll ever have.

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