When College Life Leaves Little Time For Self-Exploration

By Leslie Quan

If you know me, then you already know that I love to keep myself busy. Whether that be editing columns for The Hawk newspaper, creating social media posts for the SJU Community Garden, planning the next ASA event, going to Wednesday ice hockey practice from 9:30 p.m. to 12:30 a.m., or spending hours working on a project for my pottery class, there isn't a moment in my day that isn't filled with some sort of responsibility related to being in college.

While I love every single thing that I'm a part of, my most treasured moments of solitude are no longer existent. Time that should be spent recharging and reflecting are overburdened by the work that I have dutifully and forcibly placed upon myself.

As I'm nearing the end of my second-to-last semester at Saint Joe's, I've become increasingly frustrated with myself. The book that I've been wanting to read in my free time might as well check itself back into the library, the gloves that I brought to wear for my weekend runs might as well return home with me for Thanksgiving break, and the people that I've promised to hang out with this semester might as well put me down as an endless raincheck.

My current reflection (and existential crisis) upon all this on a Sunday at 12:40 a.m. is a testament to how I do not prioritize my well-being or my hobbies and other interests. Even as I'm writing this, I'm simultaneously working on a homework assignment and editing an article.

The purpose of this piece isn't to complain about how much stuff I have to do (maybe it is a little), but I mainly took to my blog tonight because I realized how much I've relied on school to shape my identity. 

Throughout the semester, there have been moments when I so desperately needed time to explore who I am, but I failed to do so, which is evident in the publication of this piece tonight.

I'm a runner. And take that how you may perceive me. I literally like to run on the weekends (well, we certainly do try to, among other things) and I figuratively like to run away from all my problems. Running away from my problems involves all of the aforementioned activities that I bury my nose in so that I don't have to face what my real identity looks like.

While this may be a bit more than what I intended on sharing, I have an inkling that others may be able to relate.

For me, I want to be more intentional about setting aside time to reflect on what my identity looks like, what is shaping it, and why it is the way it is. One solution that I would prescribe for myself is to learn how to set boundaries (something I rarely do if you couldn't tell already). 

I don't want my identity to solely be shaped by things I do in college, and while I know it (hopefully) won't be, it certainly is hard to see that in the moment.