“No, I didn’t have any problems adjusting to college.”
“Really? …Really?” She is taunting me, I think. Or maybe she can already read me after only 15 minutes. “Almost everyone goes through a difficult transition at that time.”
“Well, I had just gone through a really big breakup. So yeah, I was sad. But I knew the reason, and it made sense, so it was okay.”
It also caused me to shut myself off from everyone and consider transferring to the state school. But I don’t say this. Even at $110 an hour, for reasons I can’t explain, I am still censoring myself.
“You have more difficulty dealing with change than most people,” she concludes not long after.
At first I protest, but upon quick reflection, this is pretty accurate. I was a mess both leaving for and coming back from my study abroad. I spent a lot of my first six months in Houston crying on the phone. There are always reasons, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true.
“But you’re going to be fine,” she says. I am less than reassured.
Yesterday was the official first day of my indefinite vacation-sabbatical. My watch is stolen and we pull a Taylor Swift in which there is drinking and yelling and running off and a few tears… and you, telling me for the first time that I am your best friend in the entire world.
I am trying to start adapting better. But while I am accepting the change in my relationship with time—I am boycotting buying a new watch—I am just not ready when it comes to us. Not yet.