On Tuesday, I moved back into the dorms for my JUNIOR year. On Thursday, classes started.

Coming back here, back to this place I’ve called home for going on three years now, it was hard. I was excited, of course, but my heart was also hurting. Two years in a row I have applied to be a part of various leadership teams here on campus. Two years in a row I have wanted so badly to be around for freshman move in and orientation week, helping to welcome the new students to their new home. Two years in a row I have been turned down for all positions applied for. And it hurts.

The people chosen for these positions are phenomenal people, do not get me wrong. They are my friends, my peers. They shine in their roles, and I am so happy to see them in these positions because I know they are great. Yet that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt to not be a part, to not be in the positions with them.

So coming back was exciting, but also hard. There are so many reminders of what I missed out on at the beginning of the year, and each little reminder is a dagger in my heart. Each reminder brings up questions about why I didn’t make the cut, why I wasn’t someone who stood out as being a good candidate, questions like: am I good enough? And, is there something wrong with me? Am I foolish for thinking I might be a good candidate?

And saying all of these things here, online, on a public blog, is really vulnerable. Those close to me have heard my ranting and questioning, but I try not to walk around campus having a pity party because that does no one (especially myself) any good. It does not change my circumstances. It just causes unhelpful rumination.

And my intention in this post is NOT to have a pity party: I don’t need sympathy.

I just want to share my experience in returning to campus this year, because something tells me I might not be the only one.

Sometimes places we love hurt us and hurt to be in, and I think that that’s okay. No place or person is perfect. But, just because a person or place is not perfect does not mean that it or they cannot be good.

I still love this place. We had our annual commencement ceremony on Thursday, and I was so very proud and happy to be in this place. It reminded me of the good, of why I chose this school, of why I keep coming back. Because even in this place that has hurt me, there is good and there is joy and it is home.

I am here to learn and to grow and to be challenged, and I have to trust and believe that I was not selected for a reason, that this is what was best for me. That does not make the pain go away, but it helps me carry on. It helps me seek answers about how I can grow and what I can work on to improve myself. It helps me keep fighting for the things I want in life. It helps me stay driven.

Not exactly your typical back-to-school blog post, but these are my thoughts coming into this year, so we’re rolling with it.