January is a particularly interesting time for college students for two reasons:
First, we're all smacked in the face with the stark (and depending where you are, freezing) reality of a new semester right after relaxing with family and loved ones and being filled with overflowing amounts of Christmas cheer. This means a lot of things for everyone, including being homesick, incredibly stressed and overwhelmed, feeling depressed, or some horrible combination of the three. And second, January is the time when we all come up with our "New Years Resolutions," which are usually, but not always, quite lofty and unachievable, no matter how good and well-intentioned they are. "I want to be a better person," we all inevitably write down. We look at ourselves and see what we lack, what we know we should be doing, and what we know would make us happier about ourselves. But then we come back to school, and the perfect storm starts forming in the clouds.
"I'm going to go to the gym every day," we said. "I'm going to have a more positive attitude," we said. "I'm going to do more for those around me and think less about myself," we said. And then we have five classes to go to. And a part time job. And a million readings and assignments to complete. And our goals and aspirations are suddenly overshadowed by points and grades and lectures and 18 page research papers looming in the distance. And the stresses of school combine with the stresses of our identities and who we want to be and form into this raging tornado of self-doubt and frustration that rips right on through the trailer parks and Kansases of our souls.
(Was this a dramatic enough metaphor for everyone? Okay, good.)
In times like these, I like to think about what one of my English professors told us the summer after my freshman year of college. I'd like to share this analogy to you, in case you're feeling any degree of these feelings right now. Or ever.
She talked to us about caterpillars.
"You all probably know the gist of how caterpillars become butterflies, right?" she said. "They eat a lot of leaves, bundle up into a chrysalis for a while, and then break their way through and emerge as a butterfly. You probably all learned about this in elementary school. But do you know what happens inside the chrysalis?" she said. "This is really interesting, I promise."
She went on to explain that inside the chrysalis, caterpillars break down into this sort of soup—that's really the scientific word for it. They become this gross goo that eventually reforms into a completely different animal. They even have a separate set of DNA that lies dormant within them until they become this soupy mixture of their former selves, where it emerges and forms them into their butterfly selves. They actually change DNA. It's crazy.
She told us how we were caterpillars up to this point in our lives, and how this period of life we're in is the "grey goo" part. We are soupy messes of people right now, wondering when and how and what we'll be like when—and if—we become butterflies. It almost feels as if our very own DNA is being altered at times. And it hurts, and it's difficult, and it's frustrating and uncomfortable. We are broken down and forced to muddle through it all. And it has to be that way in order for us to change and morph and learn who we are. But that DNA, the strands that contain that better, older, more amazing winged version of ourselves ready to fly, is within us all the while. It's been within us from the beginning. And if we can muddle through this goo—these questions and doubts and disappointments and life decisions that lay before us—we will become that butterfly that seems so elusive to us now.
So if you're struggling to decide what to major in, how you're going to accomplish all of your assignments, or you're upset because you've realized you won't be able to stick to all of your resolutions like you wanted to, it's okay. Because you're soup. And all of the experiences—good and bad—that you're going through right now, are preparing you and directing you to become the glorious person you want to be. It's going to be difficult, and it's going to be emotional, and it's going to be incredibly stressful. And you might be in this soupy state for longer than you'd expected or hoped. But who wouldn't want to go through this struggle if it means becoming a butterfly? I know I want those wings more than anything.
So yeah.
Hopefully this is what someone needed to hear right now—I know I definitely needed to be reminded of it today.
"The goo will be worth it." (You can quote me on that).
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