a couple days ago, I cracked my phone.
Nine days before I make the three hour drive to my new home for the foreseeable future, and begin the process of settling into college.
To say I was irritated was the nicest way I could put it. Freaked out was an understatement. I immediately started researching the cost to fix it, and even went so far as to call an insurance company to inquire about getting a replacement. In all honesty, it was another odd and end I had to add to a piling list of Things Emma Had to Think About, and essentially collapsed the Pit in my Stomach that had been creeping as soon as August first hit.
The months leading up to then were filled with pure excitement. If you know me, you know how long I’ve waited for this time to come. This was supposed to be the beginning. I was completely enthralled by the idea of absolutely thriving on campus. Rushing a sorority, and applying for writing positions was all I could think about. Mid-August couldn’t come soon enough. Now, the past couple days had been filled with fear, and a sense of not being quite ready to leave home. And on top of that, I now had a shattered phone back that seemed to be the cherry on top of all my worries. What was the deal?
After multiple hours of stewing over the spiderweb of imperfections on the backside of my iPhone 8 Plus, it suddenly occurred to me that this piece of technology was actually a far-off metaphorical representation of my mental state. It was a physical representation of how I attempted to handle the feeling of dread for the school year. When I first felt those feelings, I instantly tried to shut them out. The “who am I to—?” and “what ifs.” There was no way in heck that I had time to deal with those trickles of self-doubt. I was supposed to be completely prepared so I could automatically walk in and be the most successful college student ever. I figured there’s no possible way that I can feel any less than happy and perfect in this moment in time.
I tried to deal with them in a similar way-by freaking out over the fact that they weren’t completely perfect, and all it did was make me curse the price of ever-multiplying electronics.
It’s been a couple of days, and the obsession has died down quite a bit. This little excerpt seems to be all over the place. I have taken the time to truly understand these feelings. Not shove them down, not glorify them, but to accept them as my own, and run with it. Just as I will now with my technological device, to which I tried to procure a metaphor from. How successful I was at doing so, I don’t know, but I know I had to get these jumbled thoughts somehow before I leave for school. I’ve come to the conclusion that no matter how I feel won’t define how I’m perceived or how I see myself. I will walk on campus, with myself as I am, cracked phone ready to document the start of my college experience.
Thank you for reading