Bittersweet Symphony

It's been a while since I wrote about my emotional turmoil caused by my transition from student to adult, so I guess it's about time for another post about it.

Friday night was the last home meet of the season for the Oberlin swim team, and ordinarily I would have though nothing of it. The athletic department, however, has started this cool streaming feature where you can go to a link and watch the meet live online. It's pretty cool, and since I was just waiting to leave for the swing dance that night, I decided to check it out. This decision may have been a mistake because, upon seeing my beloved home pool, an enormous host of memories descended on me like a swarm of locusts. No joke. All of a sudden, I missed Oberlin, and being on the swim team, so much it hurt. I wanted to be there, on the deck, cheering on my teammates and joking around with CMF. I wanted to run into the stands to hang out with my friends who had come to watch me swim. Most of all, I wanted to get in the water and swim faster than I ever have, feel the burning pain of competition once again.

When the girls 100 yard freestyle started, I actually started to cry.

Pathetic, right?

I have definitely missed swimming and all it brought with it - the pain of grueling workouts, the exhaustion from 6am practices, the joy of being surrounded by your teammates - but never so intensely as in that moment of watching my former team battle for victory. Ever since leaving Oberlin, I've felt adrift, trying to find my place in the swirling current of adult life. I've mostly managed to find a community here at school among my colleagues and in Boston among old and new friends, but nothing like that togetherness, that family feeling I had when I was part of the swim team. I think seeing them swim on Friday made me realize that I may never ever find that kind of camaraderie again. And it's true, I may not, because how many adults out there feel that kind of connection to those they work with, or the friends they've cultivated? That thought scares me immensely, because never have I felt as included and loved as I did during those four years at Oberlin. But I think it's also part of the growing up process; you have to leave behind those support systems that were once so vital to your well-being.

So, here I am, almost 24, almost two years out of college, and still floating around trying to find roots. I guess it's not uncommon for those of my age, but it's hard to deal with when I had been so firmly rooted before. I'm confident that I will find a place to land soon, though. It's just going to take more time than I thought.