Dear First-Year Me.
Dear first-year me,
It's August 2001 and you've just begun your journey as a first-year student at Rhodes College in Memphis, Tennessee. Roll Lynxcats!
You know the song, "Hold On" by Wilson Phillips? I know you know it. Long before it became re-popular thanks to the ending credits of the film, Bridesmaids, you were the proud owner of that album on cassette. You'd play it in your bedroom belting out the lyrics. I know this. I was with you. That song will become your karaoke JAM (for the two whole times you'll sing karaoke in public). But for now, it needs to become your anthem. Because the "It Gets Better" project won't launch for another nine years. And counseling centers aren't as widely promoted as they are today. You're a man who isn't supposed to admit he's having a hard time navigating this whole thing called college. And you're definitely not supposed to be crying. All the time.
But you are. Three hundred and ninety miles from home, homesick beyond belief, and a crying mess. You'll go through the motions of attending class and participating in fraternity recruitment but each day feels like a month. You feel like someone has pressed pause on your life and you're anxiously waiting for the play button to return home and keep on living. So it must be some cruel joke that this is life on play. There's no rewind and there's no fast forward.
Hold on for one more day.
The first few weeks will be the toughest. You'll plan a last minute trip back home to see your family and they will notice you've lost a bunch of weight. Almost 15 pounds in three weeks. Your orientation leader will vanish and you'll never recall meeting your resident advisor. September 11, 2001 will rock the nation and you'll feel like your world has been turned upside down. You'll cry almost every day those first several weeks.
Hold on for one more day.
You will visit the counseling center and find a safe space and outlet to process your transition and homesickness. You'll end up joining a fraternity. You'll bond with your pledge brothers, challenge the brothers on the true meaning of "brotherhood," and defy their attempts to haze you. You'll make great friends that first semester. Friends who will still call you in a moment of need 15 years later.
Hold on for one more day.
You'll ring in the new year with your new college friends. You'll accept a leadership role in the fraternity. You'll join the orientation staff determined to ensure no first-year student ever has to feel as sad as you did that first semester. Little do you know that will launch your career and you'll spend the next 15 years helping new students through their transition into college. You'll one day hold space for countless college freshmen who just want to press rewind or fast forward.
Hold on for one more day.
Many challenges await you as you wrap up your first year and prepare to spend your summer back home in New Orleans working at the Gap. You'll wrestle with your sexual identity, grapple with your faith, and struggle to find a major and field of study that excites you. Those things will shake you. But you conquered your first year, with a 3.9 GPA to prove it. You've got this.
Your anthem will change from one of resilience to one of celebration. You'll become the boy who put on his blue suede shoes, touched down in the land of the delta blues, walking with your feet ten feet off of Beale. But you won't be Walking in Memphis. You'll be dancing.
Hold on for one more day,
Brad
P.S. Even though you'll hate the fact that you're a tiny tot and often asked if you skipped a few grades, you'll appreciate much later in life that you look younger than you actually are. Trust me.
It's August 2001 and you've just begun your journey as a first-year student at Rhodes College in Memphis, Tennessee. Roll Lynxcats!
You know the song, "Hold On" by Wilson Phillips? I know you know it. Long before it became re-popular thanks to the ending credits of the film, Bridesmaids, you were the proud owner of that album on cassette. You'd play it in your bedroom belting out the lyrics. I know this. I was with you. That song will become your karaoke JAM (for the two whole times you'll sing karaoke in public). But for now, it needs to become your anthem. Because the "It Gets Better" project won't launch for another nine years. And counseling centers aren't as widely promoted as they are today. You're a man who isn't supposed to admit he's having a hard time navigating this whole thing called college. And you're definitely not supposed to be crying. All the time.
But you are. Three hundred and ninety miles from home, homesick beyond belief, and a crying mess. You'll go through the motions of attending class and participating in fraternity recruitment but each day feels like a month. You feel like someone has pressed pause on your life and you're anxiously waiting for the play button to return home and keep on living. So it must be some cruel joke that this is life on play. There's no rewind and there's no fast forward.
Hold on for one more day.
The first few weeks will be the toughest. You'll plan a last minute trip back home to see your family and they will notice you've lost a bunch of weight. Almost 15 pounds in three weeks. Your orientation leader will vanish and you'll never recall meeting your resident advisor. September 11, 2001 will rock the nation and you'll feel like your world has been turned upside down. You'll cry almost every day those first several weeks.
Hold on for one more day.
You will visit the counseling center and find a safe space and outlet to process your transition and homesickness. You'll end up joining a fraternity. You'll bond with your pledge brothers, challenge the brothers on the true meaning of "brotherhood," and defy their attempts to haze you. You'll make great friends that first semester. Friends who will still call you in a moment of need 15 years later.
Hold on for one more day.
You'll ring in the new year with your new college friends. You'll accept a leadership role in the fraternity. You'll join the orientation staff determined to ensure no first-year student ever has to feel as sad as you did that first semester. Little do you know that will launch your career and you'll spend the next 15 years helping new students through their transition into college. You'll one day hold space for countless college freshmen who just want to press rewind or fast forward.
Hold on for one more day.
Many challenges await you as you wrap up your first year and prepare to spend your summer back home in New Orleans working at the Gap. You'll wrestle with your sexual identity, grapple with your faith, and struggle to find a major and field of study that excites you. Those things will shake you. But you conquered your first year, with a 3.9 GPA to prove it. You've got this.
Your anthem will change from one of resilience to one of celebration. You'll become the boy who put on his blue suede shoes, touched down in the land of the delta blues, walking with your feet ten feet off of Beale. But you won't be Walking in Memphis. You'll be dancing.
Hold on for one more day,
Brad
P.S. Even though you'll hate the fact that you're a tiny tot and often asked if you skipped a few grades, you'll appreciate much later in life that you look younger than you actually are. Trust me.
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