Helen M.

Photography by Satya Yalamanchi

If you’re reading this, know that it will get better.

I can promise this because I’ve been through it. A year ago, I was unhappy and isolated, anxious that my college years wouldn’t be what I had wanted them to be, and despairing that I would have to trudge miserably through the next few years. Now, I’m in a much better place, and I’m thankful for how I grew and where I ended up because of the challenges I faced.

My first semester of college went relatively smoothly, but by the second half of my freshman year, I had started feeling alone and stuck somewhere I didn’t want to be. I felt that I wasn’t actually very close to any of the friends I had made and that there was nowhere I could turn to find a real community at the small, insular school I attended.

I returned to college the next fall after a summer break spent dealing with the worst mental health challenges of my life. All summer, I was terrified of once again feeling alone and unfulfilled when I returned. I was so anxious about going back to school that I almost couldn’t bring myself to go back at all. With my parents’ encouragement, though, I dragged myself back, forcing myself to be hopeful that my sophomore year would be different because I was determined to make it different. I resolved to take initiative to build the college experience that I wanted for myself—one full of close friends, a supportive community, and a fulfilling work-life balance. I joined new clubs, I made an effort to meet and hang out with new people, and I even began seeing a mental health counselor.

On the outside, it seemed like I was doing great; I had good grades, was involved in lots of extracurriculars, and had a pretty full social calendar. On the inside, though, I was still more unhappy and less confident in myself than I had ever been. On top of this, it seemed as if I was the only one who was having a hard time, so I didn’t feel like I could confide in anyone because they wouldn’t understand.

As October came to a close, I finally took a step that I had been avoiding: I decided to apply to transfer schools. This decision terrified me—how could I know that my experience at another university would be any better than the one at my current school? How would other people see my decision? Did I really want to start over somewhere totally new? On top of all this doubt was the knowledge that I would be transferring in as a junior, which felt very late to be starting completely over. I would be in a new place, with unfamiliar people, taking different classes. Would it be worth it to go through this massive, potentially isolating transition with only two years left in my college career? I was terrified to change schools, but my gut was telling me that I wasn’t okay, and I needed to change something bigger to fix that.

I began working through my second round of college applications, and although the possibilities opened up by this process brought me some hope and excitement, I was still unhappy in college. I still didn’t feel very close with most of my peers. I still felt stifled by the school’s small size and lack of vibrant social life. I still felt that I was missing out on the “amazing” college experience that everyone else was having. It was a really difficult period of my life, but I got through it by promising myself that better things were ahead.

 Eventually, my promise rang true. A few months later, I started at Duke University—the school that I had dreamed of attending in high school.

 The irony of the whole situation? Just as my second round of college acceptances started trickling in, my old school started feeling less and less miserable. Hitherto unnoticed by me, my endeavors to create a community for myself had worked. The efforts I had made to remedy my loneliness had resulted in close friendships—ones that saddened me to think of leaving behind. As the end of the year drew nearer, I started realizing that, despite all the pain it represented for me, I would miss that school.

I’m not saying that the answer to every challenge in college is to transfer schools. Rather, I’m here to remind you to trust yourself, both in recognizing that you’re not okay, and in your own ability to take steps to pull yourself out of that place.

If you take nothing else away from this letter, take away that things will get better, and that you have the power to make them better. So join that club that looks fun. Start that peer study group for the class you’re failing. Reach out to that mental health professional. Try out that new workout program. Ask that cool person to grab coffee with you sometime. You never know what decision or action might end up being a game-changer. Putting yourself out there is nervewracking and it can feel like constantly pushing boulders up the hill. I can promise because of first-hand experience, though, that taking the initiative to make things happen to make yourself happy will be worth it. 

As I write this, I’m sitting on a sunny patio next to the Duke Chapel that is the landmark of my new home. Every day as I walk through my beautiful campus, I’m reminded how thankful I am to have ended up at this school, especially because the journey to get here was a difficult and hard-fought one. Things got better for me, and they will for you, too.

Helen M., Duke University

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