Reflections on a Year. And friendships.

Fun Fact: Grad school is very expensive.

Another fun fact: There is absolutely no way of knowing what you're going to find when you stick 26 people in close proximity to each other when they were originally oblivious to each other's existence.

When I moved to a new state for grad school, I had no idea what I was going to find. I was going into the wilderness with all of my belongings, and hoping against hope - and my anxiety - that I would land somewhere and be able to call it home. I was in a new place, with new people, and very unfamiliar personalities. I arrived, having quit my job willfully to pursue higher education.

It was insane! For the first time, I was around 25 other people who loved psychology as much as me! 25 other people that could geek out as much as I did about learning how to administer an intelligence test. 25 other people that cared about what diagnostic criteria went into giving someone a diagnosis - but only if it was warranted. 25 other people who had dreams of helping people, in 25 different ways, in probably as many places.

One of the third years in the program called our quick friendships "trauma bonding." When you go through the same crazy stuff together, it kinda bonds you to them. It was definitely true for us. At first, we tried to stay a cohesive unit of 26. We wanted to process all the new stuff together. It was so much fun.

We chilled out a bit by the time second semester got there. We had realized that that many people was too much to keep up with at the same rate. So, we did what everybody does: we became little groups. Granted, we were more like a bunch of little, oddly-shaped Venn diagrams, where some members of one group overlapped to others, and some people just stayed in the one group, because that's just what people do sometimes. But we started finding a way to exist as a whole, but in easier-to-hold pockets. And we went through our second semester, where intelligence tests became personality tests, and talking about psychopathology segued into talking about psychotherapy.

Our second semester was a whole new level of adventure. We had one semester under our belts, so we didn't feel quite as new, quite as unfamiliar with everything. But that second semester was not a joke. It was rough on everybody in all kinds of different ways. We faced challenges we didn't have before.

I didn't come out unscathed, either. My mom died that semester. I'm still trying to make sense of that one. Cancer sucks. 

I will say, though, that for as much as I would trade ANYTHING for more time with my mom, my cohort did the most fantastic job of taking care of me during that time. They let me cry, they let me vent, they distracted me and gave me normality so I wouldn't drown. It was fully because of them that I was able to survive that semester.

The amazing student that was in my initial interview said that her favorite thing about the program was the cohort. They helped her get through one of the toughest situations in her life. They supported her better than she even knew how to ask for.

I had no idea what she meant, because I didn't know how a bunch of completely rando people could be that much cohesion to a person.

Well, now I know.

Now, I'm almost halfway through my summer semester of my first year, and the refrain that I kept is proving endlessly rewarding:

The people are important.

No matter how busy I am, no matter how much time I don't have, no matter how imperfect these silly, imperfect humans show themselves to be, no matter how I'm feeling that day, the people are important.

To me, humans are beautiful. It doesn't matter what you look like, what you wear, how you talk, what gender you identify as, what your political views are, whether you've figured out deodorant is a thing, where you live, how messy you or others think you are, whether you can recite the "to be or not to be" monologue, what your sexual orientation is, whether you think snow is home or bask in swimmable humidity, what your favorite sportsketball team is, how good you are or aren't at a decathalon - math or running, what your views on abortion are, what your views on gun rights are, what your views on immigration are, what your views on vaccination are, what your phone carrier is, what your religion is or isn't, or what your job is or isn't....

or ANYTHING ELSE YOU CAN POSSIBLY THINK OF.

Humans are beautiful. We are so similar, but so ridiculously different from each other. Sure, we get on each other's nerves, and somebody is going to hate what you love, or love what you hate, but so what? Does that make them less human? Does that mean they have less to offer humanity? Does that mean that you can't learn something from them? Does that mean that you've arrived and have it all put together?

We all have the right to be treated with kindness, dignity, and respect. ALL of us.

Remember what's important. Please. Before you mess up something that has the potential to be beautiful.