And it's Hard to Say Goodbye, My Love.

Every time I have to say goodbye in any way, a song consistently pops into my head. To be more specific, the closing scene of Dreamgirls where Beyoncé belts out, "And it's hard to say goodbye, my love. Hard to see you cry, my love." Every time.

It does go by so fast. I think that we go on autopilot for most of our stay -- because that's what it is, just a stay. It's the same thing, every week. Get up, school, work, get to the gym if you're lucky, work some more, and go to bed. On weekends you drink your thoughts away, almost as a reward for the repetitiveness that you had to endure throughout the week. But then, weeks turn into months, which then turn into semesters. Semesters turn into years, and then you're done. You're given a piece of paper as a receipt and a friendly pat (or maybe push) on the back to send you off to the real world. It's difficult enough, and then you add something like a worldwide pandemic on top of it.

I graduated a couple of weeks ago from a lovely little liberal arts college. Already, I've been hit with the same question multiple times. "So, what next?" My answer... "I have no fucking idea."

And guess what, that is okay. I know that I will figure it out because I care. There's plenty of opportunities, and sometimes it's better not to rush. It's not lazy; it's careful. I've come to realize that everything does seem to fall into place. I know that there is a master's degree in there somewhere and a career helping people. There's moving into the city with friends and working my way up. There's a whole lot of love and opportunity.

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My roommates and I were sitting together one night trying to think of a word to describe college. My answer was traumatic. It's not true and was quickly met with laughs. However, a few days later, I found a photo of my freshman year self, and my heart sunk. I just looked happy...and well-slept. Now, I feel worn. I hardly recognized myself. That is a very sobering experience.

After I packed up my college life and headed home to figure it all out with the help of my super (super) supportive family, I took some time to think of some things that happened during my four years. I lost the two grandparents I'd ever had. I had a lot of outstanding professors. I lost someone who was like a brother. I got very close with my mom. I questioned if I was in the right place and studying the right thing. I worked hard. I felt let down by my body. I pushed myself. I felt lonely. I met some fantastic people and made a lot of friends. I lost some friends. The tough times were a lot, and the majority of them happened in my final year.

It's whiplash. College is whiplash between happy moments spent planning for the future and times when you're just really scared of what is coming next.

The most important thing that happened, though, was that I had to learn that it is okay to ask for help. Before my last semester, I lost my grandmother from an over five-year battle with Alzheimer's in the midst of a pandemic. One could say my anxiety had hit its limit. Every second provided a new opportunity for something to stress about, and I took full advantage of it. I couldn't really do anything fully. Every morning I woke up, and all I could think of was the relief I would feel getting back into bed at the end of the day. It wasn't until the end of an appointment where my Doctor asked if there was anything else she could help me with. My answer: "Actually, yes. Yes, there is." It took me years to get to that point.

I talked to her, and we came up with a plan. I'm finally starting to feel better. I will be eternally grateful that I was able to finish college with this new mindset. It took a lot. Many years of repressing thoughts and thinking that it would be selfish to bring other people into it. A lot of thinking. But then it struck me; nothing is wrong with me. It's just the way I am. To cater to your body and your needs, that's the least we can do for it.

As the end of May is nearing, closing out Mental Health Awareness Month, it's essential to talk about it and break the stigma -- because it is human. So this is me, finally talking about it.

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I think this particular goodbye is going to be a longer process than usual. I still am in the midst of realizing the things that I'll miss. The sigh of relief after submitting an assignment. The knock on the door of a neighbor saying hello. Sitting in the kitchen with Ethan, Will, and Colin merely because we all enjoy each other's company so much. The girls next door rollerblading by our window. The walk down the stairs in the morning. The paint chip on the wall beside my bed that lined right up to my eyes. The sound of Meghan turning on the Keurig to make her third cup of coffee and watching Criminal Minds on the couch with Brianna after everyone is asleep. Sitting with Lex studying as the Outlander soundtrack played for the fifth time. The smell of Hanna's fresh laundry that filled the whole second floor. The smiles. The Laughs. Even the tears.

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With all of the bad, I still have an immense love for my time spent in College. It gave me some fantastic memories and incredible humans. It was hard, but it was so, so worth it. If I were to look at that freshman who was so naive and unaware of what was to come, I would say breathe, stay calm, talk about it, and maintain your grace. Balance is what will get you through.

Goodbyes are hard. Change does, in fact, suck. I mean, it does for me. But it also is an opportunity for something new -- and we should cherish that we have the ability to move on.

So yes, it is hard to say Goodbye, my love. But it is time. Keep singing it, Beyoncé!!

We did it!!

And it's hard to say good-bye, my love

Hard to see you cry, my love

Hard to open up that door

When you're not sure what you're going for