About Turning 21

I used to think that I knew what happiness was.

I thought it could be found in other people. 

Growing up as an extremely shy kid, I depended heavily on those I loved. I was always - and still am - the “quiet one” with not much to say, just sitting back to observe and crack the occasional smile. It takes a lot for me to feel comfortable opening up to and being myself around other people. This tendency only worsens in larger group settings, and has been an insecurity of mine for as long as I can remember. I used to assume that something had to be wrong with me for not being as outgoing or talkative as many of my peers.

So in the fifth grade when I made one of my very first best friends, I felt relieved that someone else (beyond my family) finally knew the unrestrained, goofy side of my personality. Luckily I’ve managed to continue making some pretty great friends since elementary school, and each time one of these friendships developed, I’d bask in that same feeling of comfort.

I learned that seeking comfort in others can only get you so far, though. Once I got to college, my close group of hometown friends couldn’t help me anymore. Sure, they still cared about me and were only a Facetime or quick text away, but I feared meeting new people all over again. Things like joining clubs or introducing myself to neighbors seemed intimidating as I continued to convince myself that I was “too shy” to share an environment with complete strangers. 

In these times, I wish I could’ve told myself that no set amount of friends or successful relationships can determine happiness. The past few years at Penn State have led me to realize that my own happiness should not be contingent on other people. I’ve lost touch with some great friends, been broken up with, and watched other relationships of mine simply dissolve over time; I learned the hard way that my comfort zone shouldn’t be defined by who is in it. A much more effective strategy, rather, is to accept and embrace that shyness is just a part of who I am, and know how to recognize true friendship as it occurs. Being more reserved isn’t something that I should feel guilty about. 

I thought it could be found in an appearance. 

Staying on the theme of college, I became increasingly self conscious about my body while in my first year at Penn State. I ate fairly healthy at dining halls, but hadn’t adjusted to all of the opportunities to enjoy all the late-night snacks, full tailgating spreads (think hot dogs, chips & dips, Costco-sized cookies every Saturday for weeks) and plenty of liquid calories each weekend. Since I no longer participated in sports, I wasn’t as active and was clueless when it came to the gym. So when I looked at myself in the mirror just to stare back at my round cheeks and tighter fitting pants, I felt ashamed to become a victim to “the freshman 15.” 

The way that I looked was my sole motivation to start going to the intramural building on campus. I traded in sandwiches for salads, pasta dinners for grilled chicken and bowls of sugary cereal for oatmeal. To hold myself accountable, I kept a checklist for the days I went to the gym until going became second nature to me. Forcing myself to be disciplined and cutting out my favorite foods (that I deemed “unhealthy”) seemed like the quickest possible fix to lose all the weight I had gained. 

I learned that health includes more components than just the physical, though. Even though I’ve grown to love all kinds of nutritious foods and modes of exercise since, I largely neglected my mental and emotional health for a long time. It took me years to realize that living in fear of gaining weight was not much of a way to live at all. I put so much of my energy toward not only worrying about what others thought of my appearance, but also wondering how I could become a harsher critic of my own appearance. 

Once I started losing weight, and after the initial sense of pride or satisfaction wore off, the results I saw didn't seem good enough. I could always find something to pick apart. I’m grateful to now realize how ironically UNhealthy this obsession with “being healthy” became. I continue to remind myself every day that my own happiness should not be contingent on my physical appearance. This has been one of the biggest, and most silenced, struggles that I’ve faced during my time in college. It has little-to-nothing to do with vanity, but everything to do with a self-deprecating mindset that I fear many people my age experience and battle in secrecy. It's a work in progress, but these days I make a conscious effort to treat myself with extra kindness; if I want to run, eat fruits & veggies or take time to rest, it’s because doing so brings me joy and makes me feel good - not because I believe it'll make me "look good." 

I thought it could be found in my plans for the future. 

The other week I found a box of old projects in my basement at home that contained projects I’d completed throughout elementary and middle school. Among these saved memories was some short story I wrote in either the second or third grade; my teacher commented, “You’re a great writer!” in the upper righthand corner and I believe this could’ve been the first feedback I ever received in regards to my writing. 

Becoming an author was the first dream job that I ever remember having, and this manifested itself in the endless notebooks and pads of paper I’d fill with fictional stories. I’m not sure if my imagination wore off eventually or if I just became more realistic, but in time I focused on more practical writing styles (like assignments for English class) instead. Either way, it didn’t take me very long to realize that writing was an emotional outlet for me - a means of processing my feelings, or to escape from them when needed. Ever since I discovered that I love to write, I’ve had this recurring thought in the back of my mind: I’d like to write something worth reading one day. Widely acclaimed fame or praise isn’t necessarily the goal, I’ve just always had this deep, underlying desire to create something meaningful for someone else. 

I learned that this was kind of an abstract goal, though, and didn't transfer to one specific career path. Part of the reason why Penn State was so appealing to me was because of its long and diverse list of majors to choose from. I enrolled in the fall of 2017 as an undecided student, and tried taking all sorts of classes. I’d be lying if I said that I’m completely certain of I wanted to do even now, just months away from graduating in the spring of 2021. Even though I’ve since declared a major, part of me still fears failure and is nervous to live a life beyond college - especially a life that has now so drastically changed most work fields. 

I still sometimes find myself worrying that my own academic/career path isn’t as impressive or as successful to those of my friends. But when I walk across the stage in May to accept a Bachelor’s degree in Public Relations (fingers crossed that this will be attainable in person), I hope that feelings of pride will win out over any of anxiety I could still be having. During a milestone like this, I’ll try my best to remember that my own happiness should not be contingent on a comparison of my future to others’ plans. Certainly there’s happiness and excitement to be had about starting my working life, but I don’t want to base my self-worth off of how my career ultimately pans out. It’s okay to not have all of the answers right now or right away.

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I’ve had ample time (more time than I’ve known what to do with, actually) over the past few months to articulate my thoughts. I’m just one of the many people who have turned 21in these bizarre circumstances, and this pivotal time in my life served as the inspiration I finally needed to put some of these thoughts down in writing.

Moving forward, I know that my senior year of college will be incredibly different than any other year that I’ve experienced so far. I know that many of the moments that I’ve looked forward to (the bar scene, final tailgates and time spent in my favorite classroom buildings, etc.) will be entirely different than I’ve pictured them, if not nonexistent altogether. I’ve already started to feel sad and mourn all of these losses, but I also concluded my own happiness just cannot be contingent on prior expectations anymore. The best choice now becomes to make the most of the new situation I’m in. 

I really don’t know the keys to achieving happiness - and maybe it's important that there’s not one particular way to do so. What I do know, however, is that putting all of my eggs into one basket won’t do me much good. With all this in mind, I finally feel ready to get excited about beginning this new chapter of my life as a 21 year old: more confident than ever to be an emerging senior at Penn State.