“Nine times?”

“Nine times.”

That would be how many major and minor changes I underwent in my first two years of college.

We don't really allow it to set in just how unfathomably unrealistic it is to have your life planned out at eighteen, yet so many people chain themselves to that expectation. It's hard to picture your role in the real world until you have actually stepped foot into the real world.

It's hopelessly vacant but overwhelmingly crowded, and everyone seems to have the map except for you. Choosing a major feels like making a blindfolded throw at the dartboard, one that becomes branded to your identity. Identities change, however, and the venture across disciplines can give you a clearer vision of your strengths, desires and passions.

I was utterly plagued by dread on the winding road out of high school because I knew I was entering a four-year period that required me to be solidified and figured out by the end of it. Nobody in my family had gone to college, so I didn’t have any examples to go off of and, coming from a small-town school, I wasn’t offered a ton of resources or opportunities that showed me what to expect. Even as a kid, when filling out the “all about me” page on the first day of school, I always wrote a small, unconfident “I don’t know” beside the looming demand of “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

I couldn’t list any great talents I possessed or picture any job that I could leave with a satisfied smile each day. I had no interest in anything. I guess then, I thought to myself, I’ll become a doctor. My heart was in the right place, but I don’t think I could’ve made the same judgment on other organs had I been given the white coat.  

It felt cool to tell people I was studying kinesiology; I liked the way the word felt on my tongue. But that was about it. When I’d visualize my eventuality before bed, I felt continually bummed that I’d be coming home from a hospital. I’d always imagine my husband as a writer, and then I’d get so jealous of him that I’d throw that whole life away by ceasing my fantasies and just going to sleep. He had the title I wanted, but I felt pressured to remain loyal to the major I chose. 

And this is when the sirens should be going off. If you’re settling for your future because it seems like the easiest option, that is your sign that you’re not on the right path. 

I hate to sound platitudinous, but everything does happen for a reason. There’s something to be taken away from each turn and roadblock. College is your time to learn and grow, both academically and personally. Exploring different specialties also provides you with a unique set of skills that most people in your profession won't have. Bonus!

It may feel like you missed out on receiving some divine vision on what to study, but sometimes that initial uncertainty is what will help you maximize your time in college. You will never have this many chances to try and fail.

There is no shame in chasing something that catches your eye, even if it'll cost you some schedule space. The problem comes when you submit to the fear of escaping the box. It's unnatural to push back against your desires; you'll only end up with a counterfeit, coaxed passion for the label you've put on yourself. 

Each time I sat in an advisor’s office, I uncovered a new truth about myself, and I was able to narrow down the terrifyingly wide list of possibilities. It was like finding another piece of life's great puzzle. As someone who had no knowledge of their capabilities or passions coming out of high school, weaving through majors helped me to be refined.

A lot of students view college as a ticking time bomb; every second that you don’t feel secure in your major is another second closer to it exploding, confidence is the only way to defuse it. And when everyone else seems to have had it figured out from day one, it feels like you’re the only one carrying the weight of confusion. In reality, the bomb can be defused at any moment. It’s your own tension that’s making it tick. 

College will bend and stretch you into uncomfortable shapes, but that allows you to see yourself from new angles. You won’t be the same person leaving as you were when you entered. Lean into the curves. You’ll always have a destination, but the wisdom of direction comes with each step you take. And, hey, you’ll need the elective credits either way.