Why Did I Leave Charleston?

If you know me, you know I love Charleston. You probably also know that before becoming a Clemson Tiger(one of the best decisions I've ever made), I was a College of Charleston Cougar. I often am asked why I left Charleston if I love it so much, and it's a great question.

I think it's funny sometimes when I think about my freshman year at CofC, because it seems as if there was no reason for me to be unhappy. But, I was. I was very unhappy. To sum it all up in one sentence, CofC was not what I needed at that point in my life. I knew when I left that I eventually wanted to come back, but I also knew that I was in need of something different.

So, I went to the school that I didn't give a second thought to in high school, the one I said I didn't want to go to because it was out in the middle of nowhere, the one my guidance counselor said she couldn't see me at, the one that I never could have seen myself at. Clemson is everything I imagined college would be and more. I've met amazing people that have completely changed the way I look at people and the way I look at the world, I'm known in my classes of 100+ people because I'm always talking in class, I've joined some clubs I never would have thought I would be interested in. I've grown up a lot. I've been living in an apartment and paying rent and bills, I've had internships, and now I'm studying abroad.

I had a lot of growing up to do to. I never realized I wouldn't be able to do the growing I needed to at CofC, but looking back it makes a lot of sense. I have family there and have grown up making several trips a year just two hours south of my hometown, my sister was a senior at CofC my freshman year, I was already familiar with the campus and with the dorms and the "to-do/not-to-do" of a lot of classes, professors, etc. There was nothing for me to figure out really.

I remember when I was freaking out because after signing my lease in Clemson and getting my acceptance email, I suddenly did not want to leave. I cried every single day for probably a week and a half straight and I could barely eat for a week and a half straight. I have never honestly believed I couldn't go through with something until then. I ended up calling one of my old teachers from high school who was basically my Mr. Feeney because I knew he could be a voice of reason for me one way or another. I don't remember all of what he said, but I remember the phone call was almost an hour long and I spent a good part of the conversation in tears. I remember he said it was okay to be sad because I was also leaving behind a lot of good things. I remember he said he had been praying about the conversation while we were playing phone tag for a few days, and he was reminded of the story of Abraham. He said God told him to leave his home and to go to a place he would show him, so Abraham did. He got there and settled down for a little bit, and then God said "Okay good, now go just a little bit further."

(I've published a pretty detailed entry a while back["On Being Scared"], so I won't repeat all of the details again here.)

I think it's funny how despite how much I love Charleston, it wasn't right for me at that point in time. I've grown up a lot and changed a lot since then. In my post-high school life I've now lived in the wonderful Charleston, the mountains of upstate South Carolina, and in the crazy, bustling Paris. For a long time I said I might like to move somewhere else for a while, maybe Charlotte or Florida or somewhere up north or even somewhere abroad for a year or so before settling down in Charleston.

But now, I'm getting a little tired of feeling like I'm living a gypsy life. And that's something I never thought I would say.