Reflecting On My Year Off
As 2019 begins and my second semester of university kicks into full gear I would like to take a moment to reflect on the year that I have had. I can easily say that this past year was the most challenging one of my life thus far. Sure, taking a year off came with a lot of opportunities, but it also came with a lot of setbacks. This is not an easy topic for me to write about, but I feel that it’s necessary and that to not write this all down would be a disservice to myself and to the year that I have had.
Coming out of my senior year of high school I was on top of the world. I kid you not, I have never felt that content and confident ever before and someday I hope to be back in that place. I worked my butt off and graduated with honours and admission into, what I thought was, my dream program surrounded by the most wonderful friends I could have ever asked for. My friendships throughout high school were a bit rocky, but by the time I was in grade twelve I really felt like I hadΒ finallyΒ found my people. If you guys are reading this, you know who you are and I love you dearly π
The summer following my graduation only heightened my confidence. I went on my first ever canoe trip with some of my closest friends (read about it here) and I brought five friends to my cottage with me sans-parents. Β The cottage trip was a big win for me. My cottage is by no means an easy place to get to or to operate. It is a boat access only island with no electricity. To make this trip happen I was required to trailer and tow a boat up to the lake, and to bring it back at the end of the week. Half my family believed that I could pull it off and half my family continuously tried to convince me that I couldn’t. In the end I did it and everything went very smoothly. It was one of the highlights of my summer and I will remember that week forever.
When September rolled around I was not anxious about school at all. Thinking back on it, maybe that should have been my first warning. It’sΒ normalΒ to be anxious about leaving home and starting post-secondary school. I can tell you that this time around I wasΒ extremelyΒ anxious about starting school, but I think that was a good thing. This school year has been completely different from my short time at Waterloo and that was exactly what I needed.
When grade twelve began it seemed as though all of the sudden we all had to make this big, life changing decision about our futures. I, as well as many of my peers, had absolutely no idea what I wanted to do with my life. Some people, like my sister, are lucky enough to know what they want to do from a young age. Emma has wanted to be a vet since she was about seven years old. I on the other hand love music, but also math. As a kid I spent my free time building houses out of cardboard boxes and sewing copious amounts of sock monkeys. I loved every subject that I took in school, arts, maths, and sciences. I was at a loss. There was no one clear thing calling to me.
Somehow I got the idea of becoming an architect in my head. My high school math teacher’s daughter is a recent architecture grad and one of my grandparents’ close friends is a retired architect. I set up meetings with both and we chatted about architecture school, portfolios, projects and the responsibilities that came with being an architect. I don’t know why, but I decidedΒ this was my calling. So, I applied to three universities, all for architecture, and started to work on my portfolios.
In high school I held myself at such a high standard. I was a straight 90s student, I was involved with sports and student councils. I had it in my head that IΒ hadΒ to do something impressive. I thought that if I went to school and got some general degree in some random program that everyone would be disappointed, that people would say “what a waste of that talent”, which is completely ridiculous.Β I think that’s why I latched on to architecture. It wasn’t some general program, it was tough and competitive and somehow I managed to get in.
When I got into architecture school everyone was so proud. My parents, my teachers, my friends, and my grandparents showered me with praise. I’m not one that seeks out praise, but it felt pretty damn good to have everyone this excited about somethingΒ IΒ had accomplished for once.
Everything fell apart very quickly. It did not take me long at all to figure out that architecture was not the right fit for me. At first I wrote my feelings of doubt off and blamed my anxiety on being homesick. I hid my struggling from my family and I hid it from my architecture friends too. Eventually it was just too much for me to deal with, so I reached out to my mom, a school counsellor and the director of the school of architecture.
At the end of September my grandparents hosted a party for their 50th wedding anniversary in Toronto. My whole extended family was there as well as all of my grandparents’ closest friends. All anyone wanted to talk about with me was school. All my extended family and my grandparents’ friends wanted to talk to me about my program and how wonderful it was that I was going to be an architect, meanwhile I was crumbling inside. Nothing about it was wonderful, at least not for me. I was holding back tears for almost the entire event.
That weekend ended with me formally deciding to withdraw from my program so I could take some time off to figure out what I truly wanted. This was not a decision that I came by lightly. There were many conversations with my parents, grandparents, and other family members that took place that weekend. My withdrawing from school was hard on everyone. Yes I felt relief, but I also felt remorse. I felt like I had failed and I carried that feeling with me for most of my year off.
My year off had many highlights, but it also had many low points. My self-esteem was crushed after I left school, which lead to a relapse of old disordered eating habits and terrible anxiety. I am so lucky to have amazing friends that I can turn to. My friends are what got me through this year and what made me seek the help that I so clearly needed, but wasn’t strong enough to find on my own. Admitting that you aren’t ok is daunting and it’s not easy to take the leap and tell someone. What I’ve realized though is that it’s not the actual act of admitting that you aren’t ok to others that is scary, it’s admitting it to yourself. When you say it out loud it’s like you yourself are hearing it for the first time. By saying it out loud you are admitting that you have a problem and that can be terrifying, but once it’s out there in the open it feels so much better than keeping it in.
As I mentioned before, 2018 wasn’t all bad. I learned a lot about myself and I feel like I grew as a person. I went on some incredible trips and I was lucky enough to work in an amazing work environment this year with some of the most hardworking, fun and kind people I’ve ever met.
Coming out of this year I’m happy with who I’ve become. I feel more knowledgable and more prepared to begin my “adult” life. Deciding to take time off is not an easy decision, but for me it was exactly what I needed. I was only 17 when I started at Waterloo and I had no idea what I was in for. This time I had an entire year to prepare.
Here’s to new beginnings and to accepting that there’s no need to rush into things if you aren’t ready. Time is the best thing you can give yourself to heal. Happy 2019!
xx
Ashley