I went to college close to home and it was the best decision
I’ve known since I was a little kid that I wanted to move to California. My dad grew up in Los Angeles and we visited his childhood home any summer we could. I loved it there so much. When people asked me where I was from, I often lied and said I was from the west coast, when in reality I was born in Washington D.C. and raised in a Maryland suburb. (FYI: Lying is not the best way to make friends.)
High school came and went way quicker than I expected. I felt bamboozled by college applications: I wanted to apply to schools in California, but only had time (and funds, to be honest) to visit universities close to home. As the oldest kid in my family, I had no reference for how to pick a college. Before I knew it, I made the decision to go to a school in D.C., only 45 minutes away from my parents’ house.
As I packed up my stuff to move into the dorms, I kicked myself. If I was going to box up my life, say good-bye to my old room, and deal with the anxiety of starting over in a new place, why wasn’t that place in California, where I knew I wanted to settle down?
I had no idea how lucky I was.
Going to college close to home turned out to be awesome for reasons that had never occurred to me. I vowed not to get into a habit of going home every weekend, but I knew that I could if I really needed to, which strangely helped fight homesickness. There were definitely nights when my nerves felt out-of-control, but when I called my mom for support, I knew she wasn’t that far away. When my siblings were in their school plays, I dropped by to see them, returning to school early enough to catch whatever late night movie was playing in the common room. If I left every single pair of underwear I owned on my bed at home, I could easily pick it all up (luckily, that only happened once).
Many of my college friends came from other states, which meant that if they wanted to go home, they had to spend a day traveling on a plane, planning their trips weeks in advance. While I have no doubt I could have learned to adapt to that kind of situation had I moved far from Maryland, seeing how hard it was for my friends made me appreciate being close to home even more. I got to explore outside my comfort zone without being too far away from it.
Eventually, college became a second home. I grew more and more independent, but visiting my family and high school friends was always a treat. By the end of my junior year, I knew I was ready to relocate to California. This time I did my research and applied to a grad school program in Los Angeles that was exactly what I wanted. Four years on my own helped me understand what I hadn’t known I wanted when I applied to college as a senior in high school. I now understand that it’s totally okay to take your time figuring out what (and where) you want in life. Things might not magically fall into place, but time usually makes it easier to pick pieces up and put them together yourself.
I used to call myself a coward for going to college close to home. Now, I wouldn’t trade my experience for anything. I’ve lived in California for three years now, and even though I love it, I still get homesick. When I call my mom, it can be really hard to remember that she’s 3,000 miles away. College was kind of a rehearsal for missing home, and now, thanks to that rehearsal, I know I can handle it.
And knowing really helps.
