Momentarily diverting from chemistry homework, I opened Instagram to give my brain a break from reactants and products. The first few posts I scroll through are already too much to handle. One being about global warming increase and another being about a recent mass shooting. Not sure where to turn next, I opened my email, which was totally the wrong move because all I find there is spam and canvas notifications saying this grade has been posted and that assignment is due tomorrow.
I glance at my other options: Snapchat? No, it’s the same as Instagram. LinkedIn? Definitely not. BeReal? And see other people not doing organic chem, no thanks. I won’t even consider opening the New York Times app after the initial Instagram scroll. In a last ditch effort, I text my boyfriend to find some relief, but he is busy at his co-op working nine to five. I exhale and put the phone down.
College has already taught me so much more than my small hometown could have, but sometimes the constant influx of information, media and competition is too much pressure. Attending a school in the city can be so inspiring, but at the same time, it can make you feel like you’re drowning in an overflow of stimulation. I’m typically not a homesick person, but sometimes I do miss the stillness of my hometown. I miss the beaches and the quiet boredom. I know that, coming from a rural small town, I have the privilege of being able to hear spring peeper frogs at sunset and see the stars at night.
It is probably naive to think that such a sheltered place can be so enjoyable. I’m sure that facing reality here in Boston makes me a better person in the long run, but as the semester comes to a close, I find myself feeling constantly overwhelmed. I look at my computer all day for classes; I put airpods in while I’m walking, and when I want to take a break, I look at my phone.
Concrete buildings and loud car horns lose their aesthetic. I feel like days just pass by, and I can’t even remember what I did during them; I can only tell you what assignments I turned in and who posted pictures from their formal. It’s so hard to escape from the glow of my laptop, and I’m inseparable from my to-do list. Not to mention the added stress of being surrounded by other Northeastern students obsessing over their resumes and declaring their lives meaningless unless they get the right job.
I feel fed up with this schedule, but what can I do to change it? Is this what it means to be a young student in the city? No, I won’t accept it. As hard as it is to pry my eyes from the canvas notifications and devastating news headlines, I know that I must. I am a chronic optimist, and I refuse to lose sight of the silver linings. So I spontaneously made banana bread on a Tuesday after class, and I even added chocolate chips to the loaf.
I watched Love Island episodes with my roommate at night and we laughed about all the drama. I read; I wrote; I sat outside. I opened the curtains in my apartment and let the natural light in. I recall what I did today and try to separate it from what I did yesterday. I do absolutely anything I can to remember that I’m more than a grade point average or a little pink heart on an Instagram post. I have noticed that as I try to find these little reminders, they begin to naturally present themself to me. My boyfriend bought me flowers. I found a shirt I thought I lost. I reconnected with old friends. I went to a birthday party.
Yes, I still cry and stare at my computer for hours. I still stress about my final exams and scroll through instagram, but as I finish another semester, I see how far I’ve come and the homesickness dissipates. This semester taught me to grab a liferaft when I feel like I’m drowning and to open the windows when I feel like I can’t breathe. I realized that finding small moments to be present can make a big bustling city feel a little more like home.