Melanie M.

Photography by Peyton Mears

If you’re reading this, remember that growth doesn’t happen in comfort—it begins in the moments that challenge you.

As a psychology student, my college journey has been as much about understanding the human mind as it has been about understanding myself. 

What if the real story of our lives is not written in moments of comfort, but in the times when we are challenged and uncertain of what comes next? Through my college experience, I’ve come to understand that growth often follows an emotional roller coaster—a journey marked by distinct stages. It begins with excitement and a sense of contentment as we step into a new chapter. But once the initial thrill fades and reality sets in, discomfort creeps in. We start to feel the fear of leaving behind the familiar, the safe. We’re stretched, challenged, and uncertain of what comes next. Then, almost without noticing, something shifts. You slip into survival mode, not from panic, but from a kind of quiet strength. We begin to uncover an inner strength we didn’t know we had. It’s this strength that helps us confront our fears, our flaws, and the doubts we carry about our ability to adapt. These stages haven’t always been easy, but they’ve shaped me in ways that comfort never could.

Now that this “college chapter” is coming to a close, I find myself reflecting on the journey and the transformation that unfolded over the past four years. Looking back, I realize that the very first step toward growth was discomfort. Moving to a new country, navigating a new language, and meeting new people created the perfect storm for transformation. It was unfamiliar, unsettling—and exactly what I needed. I believe everyone who goes through college experiences a clear “before and after” in who they are. People usually say college is ‘the best years of your life’, full of fun, freedom, and memories. But what we don’t hear as much is how it can also be ‘the most confusing years.’ Those years change who you are, shape your values, and influence how you see life. And in that space, you’re forced to grow—not because it’s easy, but because it’s necessary. Discomfort presents a choice: it can either break you or shape you. Coming here meant shedding old versions of myself, lifestyles, habits, even relationships that once felt aligned but were really tied to a version of me I was outgrowing. College challenges you to evolve in ways that are uncomfortable but liberating. You’re no longer bound by who others expect you to be, you can just be you. You get to redefine yourself on your own terms and take control of your life and goals. 

Before I arrived, I remember thinking: “I’m scared of change, but I’m more scared of spending my whole life never discovering new versions of myself.” Now, I know that fear was the beginning of something extraordinary. Throughout these years, one of the biggest challenges I’ve faced has been recognizing the limits and labels I placed on myself. And I want you to really sit with these questions: Am I truly ______, or is that just a label I gave myself to feel protected? How many of my beliefs about who I am are genuinely mine, and how many were inherited from others? Am I the sum of my limitations, or the sum of my possibilities? So many of the things we believe about ourselves are rooted in lies we once chose to accept. They’re false labels we put on when we didn’t think we could be more—when we lacked confidence or needed to shield ourselves from something. Over time, those lies quietly become part of our identity, and we carry them as if they were true.

Confront yourself. Confrontation isn’t easy, it means looking directly at the stories we’ve been holding on to and daring to rewrite them. For example, I always believed I hated presenting in public. I even convinced myself I just wasn’t good at it. During my internship this past summer, I had to give multiple talks in front of people I admire, and I remember feeling anxious and afraid because I was thinking “Public speaking just isn’t my thing.” But when I finally got up there and spoke, I realized I wasn’t bad at it at all. I actually enjoyed it and to my surprise, I was good at it, and the people around me saw it and congratulated me. In that moment, I let go of 20 years of believing I wasn’t good at that. It made me realize that if I truly tried all the things I’m afraid of or the things I’ve falsely labeled as flaws, I could be living up to my full potential. And so can anyone. There are countless mysteries within us, still waiting to be unraveled. And there will always be more. Maybe that’s what makes life truly worth living.

Unfortunately, we live in a world constantly chasing the next big thing. As a senior this semester, most of the questions I’ve received have been: “What will you do after?” “What are your plans?” all before I’ve even graduated. These questions carry a weight of uncertainty, something I believe we all face daily, but on this journey, I’ve had to remind myself that the joy of an achievement, like graduating, can coexist with the fear of what comes next. It’s about realizing that not everything is black and white and that the colors in between matter just as much. They represent the opportunities we often overlook because we’re too focused on black or white choices. The truth is, the only guarantee in life is uncertainty and yet, uncertainty is what we fear most. The key to calming that fear, something I believe we all do unconsciously, is to have faith that things will work out, even when nothing is guaranteed. If your peace depends on everything going perfectly, that’s not peace that’s control. True peace is the ability to remain calm in uncertainty and for a person like me, this was the most valuable lesson learned. When your body is in the present, but your mind is already living in the future, that’s your sign to slow down and simply be here now. A present and peaceful mind is far better equipped to make decisions from the heart, rather than from the ego. And by decisions, I mean the ones that truly shape your future.

I read something recently that stayed with me: “Maybe that’s what these years are meant to be. Not about having all the answers. But about growing through the questions. About carrying the uncertainty and still moving forward.” You are not behind. Not too much, not too little. Just right. Just on time.

Melanie M., Florida State University

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