Independence

by Victoria Chen

I’ve always fancied myself a pretty independent person, yet independence with the safety net of your family is far different from independence without it. Since being on campus, my first instinct when I found myself in a sticky situation, was to call home. For the first few weeks, I bit back the urge to call mom when I got lost in town or when I failed my first test. And, increasingly, I find myself omitting information on the phone with her, not because I particularly have anything to hide, but because I’ve found I can handle many of my own problems now. However, dealing with problems myself also means shouldering all of the responsibility of my actions. As a freshman, finding this new independence feels strange, realizing that in addition to the freedom of making my own decisions, independence also means the shock absorber in times of conflict is gone.

Yet, this independence, more than a choice, at times feels like a necessity. Advice from my parents sometimes feels like a favorite sweatshirt that’s become too tight. The same words used to bring me comfort, yet now they seem not only uncomfortable, but unsuitable. Like style, which morphs as a person grows, adapting to new surroundings, my mother’s words of advice sometimes feel outdated, oddly juvenile, like she didn’t quite understand the situation and although she’s trying, the essay just barely missed the point of the prompt. The balancing act of independence --figuring out what I should handle by myself and what I want to share-- has made me realize a big part of becoming an adult is having more agency in my relationships. I guess I never thought the metaphorical growing pains of maturing would feel so tangible, almost analytical.