All good things must come to an end

Much like other military kids, I grew up moving from place to place and jumping from one friendship to the next. In total, I attended seven schools and lived in four states and two countries. But after two years in Papillion and 22 years in the military, my dad decided to retire here in Papillion. I had gotten so used to moving around that staying in one place, being forced to maintain relationships and truly stay connected within a community seemed like a daunting task. 

In an attempt to take control of said task, I jumped into as many activities and clubs as possible.  Even if I would be stuck here, I would still be in control of how it went, right? Wrong. Little me was way in over her head and a number of things such as COVID and life in itself would ultimately thwart my plans. 

Soon, I discovered that my involvement was too much to balance, and that some things needed to go, some of which were things I really enjoyed. Not only did activities go, friendships went as well.      

It’s hard to maintain friendships when your lives begin to overlap less. Once COVID happened, we all had to let things go and it felt like everyone’s lives started to drift apart, aside from the shared trauma of a pandemic suddenly dictating our days. 

I regretted giving up everything that I did as I realized that it was increasingly hard to keep up with all of my friends, and I began to feel left behind. 

Eventually, I decided to fill the void with something different. In spring of my sophomore year, despite not having any experience, I tried out for our school’s JV tennis team. I’m almost positive the coach’s decision had more to do with my ability to crack a few jokes mid-tryout than my actual tennis ability. 

However, after only a month of being the team’s comic relief, a hip injury cut my season short. That summer, my seemingly long walks with my crutches were the closest thing I got to a summer fling. 

It’s safe to say that my junior year didn’t go as planned either, but unbeknownst to me, a bigger opportunity was just around the corner. Soon, I would be working with my principals and counselors to figure out a way for me to attend a tennis academy for a semester. 

Making the decision to leave for the first semester of my senior year was much more complicated than I thought it would be, but before I knew it, I was saying goodbye to everything I knew, the place I had learned to call home, and looking forward to the life that was waiting for me 1,000 miles away in San Antonio, Texas. 

The first day I got there, it was hard not to be scared of what I didn’t know, but I reminded myself that many good things happen outside of our comfort zones. Despite this being my eighth school and fifth state, I was still in an unfamiliar place, playing an unfamiliar sport, with unfamiliar people, and it was certainly outside of my comfort zone.

Additionally, I was in a place where worth was heavily equated with skill level and ratings, and seeing as  I essentially had none, I had to learn to find value in myself for who I was, and not what I could do. This was a hard lesson to learn, but I think it’s one we all learn at some point.   

I also discovered that a change in environment can change things tremendously. It won’t change you at your core, but it certainly helps reveal things about yourself you didn’t know before and forces you to grow and adapt. 

Moving 1,000 miles away from my parents gave me a glimpse into what the next stage of life might look like. Since I was living on my own, I was in charge of doing my own grocery shopping, laundry, and I had to hold myself accountable for showing up for practices, my online classes, and overall, taking care of myself. 

I experienced what it was like to share a small space with a roommate as we bonded over things like battling cockroaches, the sketchiness of our dorm itself, our late night talks, and our shared tears from both laughter and sadness. Living in such close proximity to another human gives you the opportunity of seeing the true unedited versions of them. 

It wasn’t long before I realized the circumstances that had led my Ukrainian roommate to this place, and it was a reality check. As much misfortune as I had felt I faced in the previous year, there I was with someone who had experienced a war in their home country, firsthand. A realization like that makes you open your eyes and think beyond yourself. 

Looking back, I see that I was growing and changing every day. Some days were harder than others. But I enjoyed it so much that sometimes I would tear up because it was easy to think about how this version of myself would soon come to an end. And before I knew it, it was the end. 

Having to say goodbye to the people that had become family, those who’d made me feel so special, and go back to a life that was wildly different, was a harder change than I expected. I got a taste of what the next period of my life could look like beyond high school, and then came back. 

Coming back has felt like pressing a restart button on my entire high school experience, as if I’m a freshman again. 

I joined athletic weights, which is vastly different from the “old school” fitness I had in Texas, so I’m facing a learning curve, as a senior. I’m also adjusting to classes that have had a semester of experiences together, with bonds already established. 

It’s hard not to feel like an outsider, which is a weird feeling to have somewhere you dedicated three years of your life to. 

It’s hard to walk in the halls, pass by old friends, and not feel like strangers. I guess in a lot of ways, we are. Many of us haven’t reached out to our old friends and some never will. 

It’s hard for me to not feel like my experience away was all just a dream. But the changes I’ve observed in other people are proof that it wasn’t. 

It’s hard no longer being a part of things you once dedicated a large amount of your time to. This is my first year not being a part of our Student Council. It’s weird going from being in charge of Homecoming to reading our spirit days off of a flier, and soon I won’t ever see those fliers again.    

It’s crazy to think about how, with most things, you don’t know the last time is the last time.

Recognizing all of the things that have already come to an end, and all of the things that will be coming to an end, makes me reflect deeply. 

After getting a glimpse of the next version of myself, I’m overflowing with excitement just thinking of the future, yet I can’t help but feel nostalgic about all the past versions of myself that will be coming to an end after May 14.

Come Graduation Day, we seniors will all be saying goodbye to the past versions of ourselves, as well as the versions of the people around us. But, in saying goodbye, we also say hello. And, in every ending, there is a beginning. A true example of bittersweet, I suppose.