Oh, sophomore year, where do I even begin?

This year was such a whirlwind that I haven’t had the time to reflect — hence why I’m forcing myself to write this.

But let’s rewind back to before the semester even began. By the end of last summer, I felt ready to come back to school.

During my final month at home, I counted down the days until my mom and I would make the six-hour drive from my middle-of-nowhere town in Pennsylvania to the bustling city of Boston that I now sort-of call home.

The first few months of my sophomore year taught me a lot about myself: mainly the things that I enjoy doing and the things that I definitely do not. My first semester courses gave me a taste of what real journalism was like — from the different news stories I wrote to learning how to make a documentary.

While I enjoy talking to people and learning their stories, I could never shake off that feeling of anxiety.

Cue the “did I choose the right major?” identity crisis.

Any normal person would consider maybe just switching their major to something that didn’t force them to put themselves in that position.

But, if you’ve never met me, I’m what my mom likes to call stubborn. I would describe myself as determined — but hey, it’s all just semantics. However, because of that, I couldn’t possibly fathom switching my major.

So, I decided not to — and I’m so glad that I didn’t.

While I found news writing super daunting, documentary-style journalism is something that I really enjoy. I’d even go as far as saying that I love doing it, and it’s been quite a long time since I felt like I was doing something I loved in school.

Even though my Premiere Pro experience and camera skills are nothing short of mediocre, the feeling of being behind a camera and splicing together someone’s story in a way that makes it accessible to a broader audience was inspiring, to say the least.

Then came second semester.

I started to take more work-intensive classes, became more involved in some of my clubs and started a position that I had been looking forward to since I started writing for the FreeP: the fated Lifestyle Editor role.

All of these experiences were invaluable to me. I finally started making friends in my major whom I truly hope that I’ll talk to forever, and I became super immersed in editing and writing.

Sophomore me thought I had it all figured out. Fun fact: sophomore comes from the Greek language and translates to none other than “wise fool.” Oh, the wise fool that I was.

I thought it was a splendid idea to fill my Google Calendar with events and activities for every minute of the day. The only open time slot I had at the beginning of the semester was quickly filled up by an hour that I scheduled for myself to go to the gym.

But, this article is called “The year of the wise fool” for a reason.

By week three of the second semester, I was burnt out.

On one fateful night, I cried and said something along the lines of, “I think I bit off more than I can chew.” And now, I’m not one for cliches, obviously they’re overused and cliche for a reason, but I will say that that was exactly what was happening.

I had over-signed up. And there was nothing I could do other than just do it.

I realized that I must decide for myself what I want to be doing. No one is forcing me to do anything, and I’m choosing my commitments for myself. I have to take matters into my own hands, and figure out how to manage that.

Now, you might be wondering what I did to get through it — I wish I had some grand advice on how everything worked out. But in all honesty, I don’t. I felt like I crashed and burned every week, and I was constantly playing a game of catch-up.

It wasn’t until a few days ago, that I realized that I did it.

Yes, the semester did not go the way I planned.

I rarely ever made time to take part in my hobbies: reading, playing guitar, crocheting, you know the drill. You can probably imagine that I very rarely ended up even having the time — or the energy — to go to the gym. I went to bed most nights right after I finished doing my homework — some of which was still undone.

But with that said, I don’t know that I’d do anything differently.

I forced myself to get through a situation that was less than ideal. I was determined to work through the pressure that I usually crack under. In high school, I would sometimes feel so overwhelmed that I couldn’t do anything at all.

But now, I don’t have a choice.

I signed up for commitments, and not only were other people counting on me to do them well, but I was counting on myself to do it as well. So, I made myself figure it out. I did the things I needed to do, and I’ve created things that I’m so grateful to look back on.

I made friends with people who never failed to make me smile, even if I had just spent the last hour crying — true story. I put out work that I had no experience with before and am extremely proud of. I ran a section, this very one that you’re reading, and gained experience that will undoubtedly help me with my future career.

And while I would have probably liked to have done it differently, I still did it, and that has to mean something.

So, was I a little foolish to think I could have it together this year? Absolutely. Did I grow and learn more than I ever have? Indubitably.

I will never take for granted the opportunities and experiences I had from this year alone, and I can’t wait to walk into my junior year of college, fully accepting that I don’t have it all figured out. Some things are not in my control, and thank God that they are not.

If sophomore year was the year of the wise fool, maybe junior year can be the year of the wise friend — to myself. A year that I can remind myself — and you — to commit to the things I know I can handle while also prioritizing things that are personally important to me.